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“What if I don’t know whether I want Friday to be what everyone thinks it is?”

The water lapped softly against the tile.

Paul didn’t answer right away.

Good, I thought. Think. Really think.

He did. I could see him doing it, his eyebrows drawing together, the smile fading.

Finally he said, “Then Friday doesn’t have to be that.”

My heart gave one hard, foolish lift.

“Really?”

“Yes.” He moved a step closer. “We can wait. There’s no reason to rush because our mothers have gone mad with flowers.”

I laughed once, shakily.

“And if you need more time in Madison, we’ll take it,” he said. “If you want to keep working, you should. I mean that. Once we’re married, the rest doesn’t have to be decided right away.”

Once we’re married.

Not if.

The water felt cooler suddenly, though the night hadn’t changed. He was watching me, earnest and worried, and the worst part was that he’d done better than I expected. He’d listened, adjusted, and made room in the future he imagined for me, though he still hadn’t considered that I might not want to step into it.

“Lorrie?”

I looked down at the moving water, at my tan legs wavering beneath the surface.

“I heard you,” I said.

His face fell a little.

“I’m not saying this very well.”

“No.” I looked up at him. “You are.”

That was the problem. We got out a few minutes later, both of us quiet. Paul handed me a towel from the stack near the lounge chairs, then wrapped one around his own shoulders, his wet hair falling over his forehead.

“I’m going to leave wet footprints in your bathroom.”

“I don’t care, I track water in all the time.”

I wanted to say something light and easy, but instead I stood there wrapped in a towel, with pool water dripping down my legs and thought about the strange cruelty of being wanted by two good, but entirely different men.

Paul changed in the pool house and came out carrying his wet clothes in a folded bundle. He’d put his khakis back on, though his hair was still damp and one sleeve of his shirt had wrinkled enough that I knew it would bother him later.

I changed and met him at the car. He tossed his wet clothes in the back, then paused with one hand on the open door.

“I’ll talk to my father tomorrow,” he said. “About Friday, the move, about all of it.”

All of it, except the one thing he still couldn’t see.

I nodded.

He stepped closer and kissed my cheek, lingering just long enough for me to feel the warmth of his mouth and the damp coolness of his shirt where his shoulder brushed mine.