She sits back, hands on the table, processing like a computer buffering under pressure.
Then her eyes light up.
“Oh my God,” she breathes. “Oh myGod. We’re going to be sisters-in-law.”
I blink. “We are not.”
“Yes, we are,” she says, already halfway to a Pinterest board. “Christmases. Family holidays. I’ll be your baby’s auntandyour sister-in-law. Theo will lose his mind.”
“Ivy,” I say, gently but firmly.
She barrels on. “And the wedding. I mean, obviously not straight away, but—”
“Ivy.”
“—something small, maybe, but still lovely, and—”
“Ivy,” I repeat, louder now.
She stops mid-sentence and looks at me.
“We’re not doing that,” I say. “There is no wedding plan. There is no romantic arc.”
Her face falls slightly. “Oh.”
“We’re friends,” I continue. “Friends who are going to raise a child together.”
She blinks. “Friends with benefits.”
“No,” I say. “Friends with a baby.”
She stares at me like I’ve just rewritten the laws of physics.
“So,” she says slowly, “no falling in love, no dramatic gestures, no sweeping declarations.”
“Correct.”
She studies my face, searching for doubt. I can feel it in myself, that tiny flicker ofam I doing this right, but it’s not enough to undo the certainty underneath.
“This isn’t me being cautious because I’m scared,” I add. “It’s me being honest about what this is. About what I want.”
“And Geoff’s okay with that,” she says.
“Yes.”
She exhales. “That’s… unexpectedly sensible.”
“We’re shocking everyone,” I say.
She laughs, then sobers. “You’re really okay with this.”
“I am,” I say. “Terrified, obviously. But okay.”
She nods slowly. “Right.”
Another pause. Then her mouth curves into a grin.
“This is wildly unconventional,” she says.
