Love Your Life(42)

“Steak night,” Topher elaborates. “Choose your cut. You’d like it rare, I assume?”

“Could you…could you possibly move that away from me?” I manage, almost wanting to hurl.

“Oh, Ava’s vegetarian,” says Matt, lining up his shot. “I should have mentioned.”

“Vegetarian!” says Topher, halted. “OK.” He looks at the steaks again. “So…medium-well?”

Is that supposed to be a joke? Because I still have revolting meat fumes in my nose, and those steaks were once an animal.

“It’s fine, I’ll just eat some vegetables,” I say faintly.

    “Vegetables.” Topher looks taken aback. “Right. OK. Vegetables.” He thinks. “Do we have those?”

“We have some peas,” says Nihal vaguely, staring at the screen. “Although they’re ancient.”

“If you say so.” Topher moves toward Nihal. “OK, Nihal, which is it to be?” He lowers the platter so Nihal can see the steaks—and there’s a blur of brown and white, accompanied by the scrabbling sound of paws.

Oh my God. No.

“Harold!” I cry out in dismay, but he’s already on the other side of the room, a dripping raw steak in his mouth.

“What the hell?” Topher gapes at the platter, which now has only three steaks on it. “Did that dog just steal one of my steaks? I didn’t even see him.”

“What?” says Matt, putting down his putter and looking up incredulously.

“He came out of nowhere,” says Topher, looking shell-shocked. “He’s a stealth missile.”

We all look at Harold, who eyes us with mischievous defiance, then falls on the meat like the happiest dog in the world.

“That’s a grass-fed, dry-aged filet steak,” says Topher, staring at Harold. “I took out a mortgage to pay for it.”

“I’m sorry,” I say desperately. “Could I…reimburse you?”

“Well, it was yours,” says Topher. “So, you know. Sort it out with Harold.”

As Harold polishes off the remaining steak, Nihal starts laughing, which is the most endearing sight. His face screws right up like a baby’s and his glasses mist over.

    “Topher, you looked so freaked out,” he says gleefully. “Topher never gets freaked out,” he adds to me. “That was worth the price of a steak.”

“I was not freaked out.” Topher has regained his composure.

“You so were—” Nihal breaks off as a buzzer sounds. “Who’s that?”

“I’ll get it,” says Matt, heading to the answerphone. “Probably a delivery. Hello?” There’s a crackly, inaudible response, and he peers at the little video screen. “Hi? Hello? I can’t…” Then his face changes. “Oh.” He swallows. “Mum. Dad. Hi.”





Ten




Oh my God, oh my God! I’m beyond excited. And nervous. In fact, I’m a bit hyper. Matt’s parents are on their way up, and I don’t want to overdramatize it, but meeting them is basically one of the biggest moments of my life.

Because let’s suppose that Matt and I stay together forever. Just suppose we do. Then…this is my new family! They’ll be part of my life for good! We’ll have nicknames and in-jokes and I’ll probably do little errands for them and we’ll laugh happily at the antics of the children Matt and I will have—

Shit. Wait a moment. I clutch at my glass of wine, halted in my thoughts. Does Matt want children? I haven’t even asked him.

I feel a bit stunned by this realization. How has this not come up? I asked if he had any children and he answered “no.” But that’s a different question. Maybe he doesn’t have any because he’s taken a vow not to overpopulate the world. Or he’s infertile. (If so, would he adopt or foster? Because I would be so up for that.)

    I need to find this out right now. He’s nearby, reading something on his phone, and I grab him by the arm.

“Matt!” I drag him out of the main living space into the scary atrium and lower my voice to a hiss. “Listen! I have something really urgent to ask you.”

“Oh.” He looks concerned. “What?”

“Do you want children?”

Matt gapes at me. “Do I what?”

“Children! D’you want to have them?”

“Children?” Matt seems staggered. He glances toward the living space as though afraid of being overheard and takes a few steps away. “Are we doing this now?” he whispers. “It’s hardly the time—”

“It is the time!” I contradict him a little wildly. “It’s exactly the time! Because I might be about to meet the grandparents of my future babies!” I gesticulate at the front door. “Grandparents! That’s a big deal, Matt!”

Matt looks utterly baffled. Doesn’t he follow my logic? I’ve been perfectly clear.

“And if you don’t want children—” I stop dead mid-sentence, because I’m drawn up short by the enormity of a dilemma which is presenting itself, right here, right now.

I love Matt. I love him. As I gaze at his perplexed face, I feel an overwhelming rush of affection for him. If he doesn’t want children, even adoptive or foster ones, then he’ll have his reasons. Which I will respect. And we’ll carve out a different sort of life. Perhaps we’ll travel…or we’ll open a donkey sanctuary and the donkeys will be our children….