“No. Two patients. They’d just come in from an accident and were pretty beat-up. She was about to go to surgery and he did this like…incredible, spur-of-the-moment, emotional proposal. Like he thought she might not come out of it and he didn’t want to waste another second without telling her how he felt.”
Reagan’s eyes went wide. “If this story ends with you telling me she died, I swear—”
“She’s fine.”
Reagan exhaled, a palm to her heart. “Good. Then what happened?”
“That’s it.”
Graham took a deep pull from his beer, apparently too shaken over the prospect of anything related to marriage or engagements to comment.
Reagan regarded Claire over her glass and twisted her lips to the side. “I mean, I’m always down for wine on the porch and it’s perfect weather tonight. But that really warranted all this?”
Claire sighed. “You don’t get it. You’re still young.”
“I’m twenty-five,” she defended.
Claire （thirty-one） glared, and Graham （thirty-six） made a choking noise.
“You’re a baby,” Claire said. “I’m thirty-one, single, and without prospects. Everywhere I turn, people are getting engaged or married. It just… I don’t know. Reminded me I’m not even close to that.”
“Good thing we have a pact,” Graham said.
“What?” Claire said, at the same time Reagan asked, “Pact?”
He blinked, as if unsure whether Claire was joking. “The whole ‘backup’ thing. Remember? We marry each other if we’re still single at forty?”
Claire laughed. “We’re not really doing that.”
He straightened. “What?”
She squinted at him. “Are you being serious? I’m not actually marrying you.”
“I’m completely serious,” he said. “I’ve been banking on our deal. Made plans and everything.”
“What plans?”
“I’m planning to avoid serious relationships until I’m forty and we get married.”
A mocking laugh bubbled up. “You’ve been avoiding serious relationships your entire life.”
“How is that relevant?”
Reagan waved her arm in the air. “Will someone tell me what’s going on here?”
Claire dragged her eyes from Graham’s face—which harbored a mixture of surprise and his signature playfulness—and cast Reagan an impatient glance. “Last year we were out with friends and I proposed we act as each other’s backups and all marry each other if we were still single at forty. I got stuck with Graham.”
He leaned forward and cleared his throat. “You mean you picked me.”
Claire continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I only brought it up in hopes Mia and Noah would get their heads out of their asses and realize how badly they wanted each other. And it worked. They were married a few weeks later. In keeping up with the ruse, though, at the time I ended up with Graham as my backup.” She used air quotes as she said “backup,” because it hadn’t been real.
At least, not in her mind. Had Graham actually believed it all this time?
Graham crossed one ankle over the opposite knee. “You say ‘ended up with,’ I say ‘will be blessed with.’”
“There’s no way you actually want to marry me.”
“I’d marry the hell out of you. Have you seen you?”
Claire snorted at the same time Reagan said, “Aww.”
Useless flattery would get him nowhere. “It’s not happening, Graham.”
He pursed his lips and frowned as he looked at her for a long moment. He seemed to be gauging how serious she was, then dropped his shoulders in surrender. “Fine.”
“Why do you even want to hold up the pact, anyway? You don’t want to get married.”
“This is different. We both know it’s just a convenience thing, no pressure for more. I’m not opposed to a guaranteed date for work functions, the tax benefits, splitting chores with someone. I hang the porch swings, you wash the cars. Seems like a win-win.”
Those things did sound nice, but that wasn’t all she wanted out of a marriage.
Before Claire could say as much, Reagan spoke again, her voice strangely thoughtful. “You know, it’s not such a bad idea.”
Claire shot her the side-eye. “What isn’t?”
“You and Graham. You’ve been friends for years. And you’re actually really similar, now that I think about it.”