“Killjoy,” Lauren said. Mai tais were the new love of her life. Ah, well. There was always tomorrow.

It took Josh a full day to stop checking to see if she’d faint again. She had to admit, she kind of loved being treated like a delicate orchid. The honeymoon progressed with no further incidents . . . just love. And fun. Joshua got a tan. Lauren’s nose sunburned a little. They took an inner tube ride down an old plantation canal through the rainforest. Snorkeled with turtles and brilliant-colored fish. They went jet-skiing, and saw a pod of spinner dolphins who played with them for a few minutes before darting off into the cerulean ocean. One night, they ate at a little shack-like restaurant and heard a Hawaiian singer, and the music was so lovely and happy. Lauren sat with her back against Josh, and the singer dedicated a song to “the young lovers at table four.” So, so romantic.

Best of all was going back to their pretty little rented house each night, giving their food leftovers to the stray cat who had marked them as softies, and watching the sunset, holding hands.

It was hard to leave.

“We’ll come back,” Josh promised. “Every few years, how’s that? This house, every time. Maybe we can even buy it if it ever goes on the market.”

Sometimes she forgot he was wealthy. Well. They were wealthy now. Josh wouldn’t sign a prenup, even when she had said she wouldn’t mind. “That would indicate a lack of faith in our future,” he’d said in his serious way. “And my faith in our future is absolute.” Lauren asked Stephanie what she thought, and Steph smiled and said, “Josh has never once made me question his judgment. I’m not going to start now.”

So yes, a house in Hawaii wasn’t out of the question. And hey, she made a decent living, too. It wasn’t like she brought nothing to the table.

Back home, her dry cough returned. After a couple of weeks, she went to the doctor, who drew blood and tested her for the usual viruses, and everything was negative or normal.

So she didn’t worry.

Just before the wedding, they’d moved into a bigger apartment in the same mill building where Lauren had lived. It had more character than Josh’s building, so he sold his place and they bought a three-bedroom with access to the rooftop garden.

Oh, the joy in making it lovely and warm—her specialty, after all. She turned one bedroom into his study and got lounge chairs and a table for the garden up top. He had to sit in the middle of the roof, given his fear of heights, which she thought was cute. The second bedroom could be for guests, though they agreed they’d eventually want a house. For now, the apartment was absolutely perfect. They had friends over, like real grown-ups. One Sunday, they made dinner for their mothers, Jen, Darius and Sebastian, who now called Joshua “Unca Josh.” Seeing him play with her nephew was a preview of coming attractions. Oh, he’d be such a good father! Maybe even as good as her own.

Though Josh was a workaholic, Lauren made him limit his computer time on weekends so they could cook together, take walks, go to the farmers’ market and buy beautiful mushrooms and tomatoes. Work was going great—Bruce the Mighty and Beneficent loved her and gave her some plum assignments. They had him and his husband, Tom, over for dinner, and moved from boss-employee to friends.

At her annual review, she got a nice raise and an office of her own, which made Lori Cantore hiss with jealousy. Lauren didn’t care; Lori was just that type, and she had Louise and Santino as work friends. The first thing she put on her desk was a picture of her and Josh, taken in the lush yard of their house on Kauai, the glorious sunset in the background.

Every Thursday night, she volunteered at the Hope Center, and helped with the open house on the first Sunday of each month. Josh donated a 3-D printer and hit up RISD for a grant. (They had ignored Lauren when she asked, but for their golden boy, anything. It was for a good cause, so who cared how it got done?) She saw her sister for lunch at least once a week, and she and Josh babysat so Darius and Jen could go out.

Twice a month, she made sure to go out with her girlfriends—Sarah, Mara, sometimes Asmaa and Louise, too. She didn’t want to be that woman who disappeared after marriage, and while being with Josh was her absolute favorite thing, she wanted to remind both of them that she had other people she loved.

Every morning, Josh made her breakfast. He cooked her dinner once a week; she loved cooking, and he didn’t, but it was the thought that counted. He set up a weekly flower delivery for her office, so every Monday as she shook off the faint melancholy that the weekend had ended, there was a fresh bouquet of flowers in her office, never with lilies, because they gave her a headache. The fact that he remembered that about her was as romantic as the flowers themselves.

He still worked a lot, often leaving bed while she slept. On the nights when she did something without him, he worked, and if she fell asleep watching a movie on a Sunday afternoon, she’d wake up to see him with his laptop, working on a design that would save humanity from whatever problem he had in his sights.

One night after they’d made love and lay tangled in the bed, heart rates returning to normal, she said, “Do you remember the first time we met? You told me I was too pretty and shallow. You could barely deign to look at me.”

He looked at her with a half smile. “I do remember.”

“Was I so bad?”

He shrugged. “You were so . . . different from me. So confident and popular and . . . socially graceful. But I think even then, I knew.”

“Knew what?”

“Knew you’d be trouble.” His hand grazed her ribs, tickling her.

Oh, God, she loved him. She loved them. His hermit days were over, thanks to her, and he learned to live more like a human and less like a feral raccoon. He emptied the trash before it was overflowing and tried (though failed) to wipe down the counters so they were spotless. He said he loved her daily, and he still blushed over the words sometimes. He made small talk with her mother and hugged Jen awkwardly when she came over. And when he looked at her with those dark-flame eyes, she felt him in every cell in her body.