"What about Mason?" Mia asks carefully. "What’s he going to think?"
"We’ll tell Mason together," I say. "He’ll probably flip out. But he’ll listen. Eventually. Hopefully."
"And feelings?" Mia asks.
I hesitate.
"We don’t complicate it," I say.
Robin stares at me. "You already have."
She’s right.
Because nothing about this feels neutral.
It feels like standing on the edge of something that’s been circling me for years.
"If you do this," Mia says softly, "do it because you want to build something. Not because you’re rescuing him."
I nod.
"And if you don’t," Robin says, "don’t let guilt decide for you."
"Either way," Annabelle adds, "be intentional."
Lila raises her glass. "To intentional unknowns."
We clink.
Daisy barks once, approving.
***
Hours later, when the containers are stacked and the wine bottle is empty and my friends have filtered out with promises to text in the morning, the apartment goes quiet.
Too quiet.
Daisy curls at my feet.
I stare at the reflection of the city lights in my window.
Married.
Not pretend.
Not temporary.
Married.
I picture Maddie’s face if we told her.
The way her eyes would widen.
The way she’d ask if Daisy gets a bed.
The way she’d probably draw us as stick figures holding hands with uneven hearts overhead.
And then I picture Gabriel.
