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Hardly. “It’s not easy. You have no idea what you’re in for.”

“Well, yeah—I reckon juggling time zones will be a total pain in the arse, but you’re worth it!” He blinked sleepily, his puffy eyes mirroring Riley’s. “You know me—I like a challenge.”

“This isn’t fun like our Never Dunnit game.”

“I know…”

“It’s no joke, Ben. Being apart can eat away at you. There’s all the missed FaceTime calls, delayed texts, silences that make your mind leap to the worst thing, and the worry you’ll fall out of love without physical contact…”

“But you and me, we’re not like that.”

“I used to think Josh and I weren’t either.”

Ben inhaled a deep, painful breath.

“I just don’t want you unprepared, that’s all.” She swept his hair from his eyes.

“Coach me, then. Tell me what to expect.”

“Ben, it’s late. Don’t you want to sleep?”

“I want you to sleep, and I don’t think you’ll be able to until we discuss this.” He kissed her nose.

“Okay.” She exhaled heavily. “Well, birthdays and most holidays will be spent apart.”

“Not if I can help it.”

“Unless we win the lottery, we’ll be lucky to see each other once a year…”

“Guess I’ll start buying lottery tickets, then!” He smiled. “Carry on.”

“You’ll see friends coupled up in the pub, and you’ll feel so lonely your bones will ache. You’ll have to come home early on nights out if you want to catch up with me over FaceTime. All your money will go into calling, texting, saving for flights, and when we are together for a rare visit, we won’t just pick up where we left off—we’ll have to get used to each other again, and it will feel a bit awkward until we do. You’ll find your memory plays tricks. Annoyances you never thought of before will pop up, like ‘I don’t remember her hogging the duvet,’ ‘She smacks when she eats—’”

Ben laughed. “You don’t smack! Did Josh say that?”

She shook her head. “Plus, long distance means months without hugs, kissing, sex—”

“Physical contact sex, yeah, but not FaceTime sex! Riles, I’ve done many things in bed, but I haven’t made love through a screen before…I’m a FaceTime sex virgin!” He raised his eyebrows. “You’ll have to teach me, but please, be gentle!” He chuckled. “Look, I know it’ll be hard, but I promise, I’ll do whatever it takes. I want you, Riley. I love you.”

I know he loves me, but if he’s had problems committing to relationships before in person, how will he handle one separated by an ocean? “I love you so much. I just want this to work.”

“And it will. I know it’ll be a test, but we’ll smash it, Riles. Seriously, it’ll take more than some daft ocean to separate us, okay?” He kissed her nose. “Now get some kip, sleepyhead. Maggie won’t be happy if we doze off in her frittata.”

Sixty

The news of Ben’s accident and pending departure left an air of resignation hanging over Saturday lunch at Maggie’s, the usual laughter and eighties tunes sadly absent.

A wet paper towel traveled across the counter underneath Maggie’s hand, mopping up melted butter and eggshells. “I feel completely useless,” she said quietly.

You and me both. Riley stuffed her hands in oven mitts and squatted down, keeping an eye on the skillet underneath the oven’s broiler, their spinach, cheese, and red pepper frittata gifting the kitchen a delicious aroma—not that anyone was hungry. How am I gonna eat this? I feel sick.

“I wish I could make them change their minds.” Maggie dropped the garbage in the bin and washed her hands, her face still wide-eyed with shock. “You’d think they’d make an exception on compassionate grounds…”

“I don’t think immigration knows what compassionate means.” Leaning against the kitchen doorjamb, Ben pulled up a pair of ill-fitting purple sweatpants. That morning, Riley had helped him shower (with a plastic bag covering his cast), but afterward, Ben realized he couldn’t do up the buttons on his jeans by himself. Riley raced over to the NYU bookstore, returning with the deeply discounted—and ugly—sportswear. If there ever was a reason to learn how to fasten buttons one-handed, those sweats were it.

“It’s just wrong, making you leave now,” said Maggie. “You’re not fully healed from surgery, and you’ve got doctors here who know your case inside out.”

“I told them that, but they didn’t care.” Ben shrugged. “One of the immigration guys laughed and said, ‘Nice try, buddy,’ like I was moaning about a cold or something.” He caught Riley’s gaze and smiled softly. “It might take a while, but I’ll find a transplant specialist on the NHS to keep an eye on me.”