We were all racing toward our thirties, settling down a bit perhaps, but never actually settling.

Lucas and Chloe invited us to stay for dinner. Neil and Sophia were staying the night. Simon and I had made reservations at a little boutique hotel down by the ocean, and I was looking forward to being lulled to sleep by the sounds of the waves. I was also looking forward to making Chloe give me a tour of the crazy house she lived in.

“Seriously, this house is like a time capsule! I’ve never seen anything like it—are you sure you didn’t get a designer to re-create 1958 in here?” I gasped, taking in all the kitsch.

“No way. Everything here is authentic, placed here by my grandparents and untouched for years. Even though it was a vacation home, I’m still amazed how well everything has stood up over the years—it’s all still in great shape.”

“I could literally sell every piece in this house to my clients; everyone wants midcentury right now. Jesus, is that a hi-fi system?” I asked, pointing to a large console sideboard with the center piece opened up. A turntable in mint condition sparkled from underneath. I’d had one of these refinished a few years back for a client, but this one was a beauty. Danish design, with clean simple lines; when it was closed it looked like a simple dining room buffet table. Everything I’d seen in this house so far was just full of great details like this.

“Oh yeah, we play records on that thing almost every day. Lucas, get that bad boy fired up!” Chloe called out, bringing her boyfriend out from behind the tiki bar.

“Sure thing, chickie baby,” he replied, and a moment later the smooth vocal stylings of Mr. Dean Martin were pouring forth. “Now, who wants a cocktail? I’ve got zombies over here.”

Two hours later, I’d learned a few things. One, zombie cocktails are lethal. Don’t have more than you can handle, which for me turned out to be two.

We enjoyed dinner on the patio, and after we finished up the great meal Chloe had made we sat around chatting and drinking coffee, trying to combat the effects of the very delicious but very strong cocktails.

“Might want to go a little lighter on the booze next time,” Chloe told Lucas. “We’ve been working our way through this great tiki bar cocktail recipe book, and some are considerably stronger than others,” she said to the rest of us.

“Especially when you’re the one in charge of the mai tais” Lucas murmured, and I saw a blush creep into Chloe’s cheeks. “So, cousin of mine, when are you two tying the knot? I noticed we haven’t received an invitation yet.”

Sophia patted her belly. “Not sure, but at least six months after the munchkin gets here. I want to get some of this baby weight off first so I can be stunning.”

“You’ll be stunning regardless,” I interjected.

“I mean prebaby-weight stunning. Sorry, I’m shallow. I said it so you don’t have to,” she said.

“You’re not shallow.” I laughed.

“You’re pretty shallow,” Chloe chimed in, with a smirk. Sophia picked up her knife and mimed slitting her throat. “Shallow and violent.”

“I told you I liked this girl,” Sophia said to Lucas, who threw back his head and laughed. “Speaking of weddings,” Sophia continued, and my hand froze on its way to pick up my zombie. “When do you two think you’re going to be making things official?”

My ears grew warm, my skin prickled, and my lips began to compose a retort when I saw that she wasn’t looking at me, but rather at her cousin Lucas. My lungs deflated and I snatched up my glass, taking a big gulp of zombie. Big gulp of zombie, what a great name for a . . .

But why the hell did I freeze? Why did I care if she was going to ask Simon and me about when we were going to get married? We’d get married when we wanted to. I mean, right?

As I shuffled through this mental Rolodex of panic, I caught his eye from across the table. He’d watched the whole thing, and he knew me well enough to know exactly what I’d been thinking. He grinned, knowing he’d caught me. I rolled my eyes and tried to act casual, paying extraspecial attention to the conversation that had continued during my freeze frame.

“Hold on—so you guys aren’t planning on getting married? Ever?” Sophia asked, looking back and forth at Chloe and Lucas.

“Feisty, back off, it’s not really your business,” Neil said, rubbing her shoulders.

“No, it’s cool. We’re not planning on getting married—at least not anytime soon. We were both engaged to other people, both went through the whole wedding planning process, we know what that’s like. We’re pretty happy just as things are,” Lucas said, leaning in and kissing Chloe on the cheek.

“It’s true, why mess with a good thing?” Chloe agreed, leaning into his kiss. “Granted, we were both engaged to the wrong people, so one day we might decide to tie the knot. But for now? Not for us.”

“I don’t trust a girl who doesn’t want to wear white,” Sophia said, and I slapped at her hand.

“I wear plenty of white. Your cousin here has a thing for pinup girls in white lacey corsets,” Chloe shot back.

“Too much—”

“Awesome!” Sophia and Neil shouted at the same time.

While the table dissolved into corset talk, I thought about what Chloe had said. If things were good, why change it? That was obviously working for them, and it was working for Simon and me, as well. Hmmm . . .

I stood on the balcony overlooking the ocean, watching the breakers roll in. Starting slow, just outside my field of vision in the black night, each one grew slowly from underneath, swelling to the top and moving relentlessly toward the shore. Finally rearing up, first white around the edges, then throughout as it fell in on itself, crashing onto the rocks and foaming through every crack and crevice. I watched countless waves, following their inevitable path. Each began the same way; each ended the same way. Time after time, unaltered for eons.

Waves couldn’t course correct. They couldn’t simply decide one day, hey, I think I’ll head south toward Mexico, see what’s up down there. The only way they were going anywhere other than where they were intended was if there was some major event. Hurricane. Earthquake. El Niño. Otherwise, they were heading for the shore. You could set your clock by the tide. Eventual. Unavoidable. It’s what happened.

Deep thoughts. Although it was hard to sit by the ocean and think shallow thoughts, my mind seemed to always go toward the heavy. It would default to melancholy sometimes; why was that?