“They’re horrible,” she said, tilting her head toward the two couples they had just spoken to. “George brought me here. I guess he thinks I’ll like it. And maybe I would, if I were their age.” She tilted her head at the girls in yoga gear. “They’d just laugh if I tried to join up with them, and I absolutely can’t stand children, so I suppose that leaves me with the Plastic Patties. Does either of you have a cigarette? George has me off them, and I’m dying.”

North was a little too slow saying no, and Shaw took note of that.

“Too bad,” the woman said. “I really feel like I might start grinding bones to make my bread, that kind of thing. How long have you two been together? You’re cute. I’ve always liked the couples that don’t make any sense.”

“We’re not—” Shaw began.

Before he could finish, North slung an arm around his shoulders, pulling him to his side. “That don’t make sense?”

“Oh, oh. Christ. I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m sorry, I’m such a bitch. It’s just, at first glance, that’s all. I’m such a bitch.” A tiny smile creased her mouth. “Just ask George.”

“Have you seen the goats?”

“No. There was all sorts of talk about a class this morning, but I came out here, and one of those women that run this place told me that the class had been cancelled. You’re sure you don’t have a cig? I think you’re lying.”

North’s arm tightened reflexively around Shaw. “The woman that was here earlier? The one who was crying?”

“Sister Hecate Moonbow-Rising?” That same crinkle of a smile. “No. This was another one. A little wisp of a thing. The Plastic Patties would probably kill to have a waist like hers. Hell, I’d kill to have a waist like hers. George would definitely kill for me to have a waist like hers.”

“Do you know her name?”

“No. She was wearing a Janis Joplin skirt, I mean, tie-dyed, the hem in the dirt, that whole ensemble. You can ask around, I guess. You didn’t tell me how long you’ve been together.”

“Eight years,” North said, dragging Shaw against him and kissing the crown of Shaw’s head. Shaw sputtered and tried to push him off, but North’s arm was like an iron bar, and to be totally honest, Shaw wasn’t trying very hard.

“That’s adorable.”

Shaw finally managed to squirm free. “We’re not. He’s not. He’s—he’s married!”

North shrugged.

The woman bent forward and touched Shaw’s wrist. “Honey, we’ve all been down that road. Good luck. You don’t want to throw away eight years.”

This time, North was the one who led the way, and Shaw stumbled after him. “I don’t really think you should be pretending we’re—well, you know—I mean, North, what if—what about—I mean, Tuck would kill me if he found out.”

“We’ve been together for eight years,” North said without slowing. “Floormates in the dorm, then friends, then roommates, then partners.”