“Did something happen to make you think he mightwantto be with other women?” Emerson asks.
“Not explicitly. But…I don’t know. I saw his realtor on a video call, and she’s really beautiful. Like, stop traffic beautiful.”
“You justsawa beautiful woman? That’s it?”
“Don’t make me feel stupid,” I say. “She was there with him, and she was looking at him with these big, beautifuleyes, telling me how lucky I was. And thenhegot jealous of you?—”
“That one makes much more sense,” Emerson interjects.
“Oh, my gosh, stop,” I say. “I’m just saying. We probably need to talk about this, right? We need to be straight with each other about what the expectations are.”
“Definitely,” Emerson agrees. “You need dating rules about other people but you also need house rules just for the two of you. You’re going to be living together, right? Is he allowed to walk into his kitchen to get his morning coffee with nothing on? Swim in the pool naked? Watch TV in his boxer briefs?”
“Why did you just make him naked in every example? Normal people don’t do any of those things.”
“Not atyourhouse,” Emerson says. “But how do you know they aren’t normal at his house? You’ve never lived with the man.”
“Fine. Fair,” I concede. “House rules. And dating rules. About seeing other people?—”
“Hopefully aboutnotseeing other people,” he says, and I nod, really hoping for the same thing.
“Right. Yes. Hopefully that.”
“You also need rules about how you treat each other. Are you good with PDA? Is it expected? And how much? Hugs? Holding hands? Kissing? Will there be different rules when you’re in public than when you’re in private? I mean, bare minimum, you’ll at least have to kiss him at your wedding, right? I recommend practicing at least a few times first to avoid the risk of it being totally awkward. Wait—are you having a wedding? Or will you just do a courthouse thing?”
My heart swells the tiniest bit at Emerson’s stream of consciousness rambling. I’ve really missed seeing him on aregular basis. “We’re definitely having a wedding. Next month,” I say. “And you’d better be there. You should bring Jeremy.”
“Count on us both,” Emerson says. “Jeremy is actually a huge Jaguars fan, so he’d probably like that.”
I raise my eyebrows. I’ve only met Jeremy once, but he was all black cardigans and careful diction. The kind of man who reads the New Yorker religiously and looks like he’s never raised his voice in his life—least of all at a hockey game. “Your symphony-writing, violin-playing boyfriend is a hockey fan?”
“I know, right? I was shocked too. Shame on us for believing in stereotypes.”
I breathe out a sigh and look over at my friend. “This is good advice, Em. I’m really glad you happened to be in New York.”
He beams. “Me too. What a happy coincidence.” He glances at his watch. “Sadly, now I’ve got to run. I’m meeting Jeremy and his sisters for lunch. I’m so glad we got to do this. And now that I know everything, you have to keep me updated.”
“I will. Thanks for listening.”
“Do we need to brainstorm some rules before I go? Write out a list?”
“No, go meet Jeremy. I can call Anna if I need help.”
“Oh, she’d be perfect at this. How is she? Still pregnant?”
“For two more months,” I say. “And she’s good. She’s been a huge help through all this.”
“I’m sure. Tell her I said hi. Also remind her that Emerson would be a very cute name for a baby—boy or girl.”
I chuckle. “How many times have you already texted her that?”
“Apparently not enough, seeing as how I still don’t have a namesake.”
“I love how you’ve decided it’smysister-in-law’s job to do this for you.”
“Actually, don’t feel special,” Emerson says. “I have this conversation with anyone I meet who’s having a baby.”
“I’m going to tell Anna you said that.”
