He whistled a few more notes. “I can’t wait to tell Julia that you didn’t recognize ‘Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin’,’ from Oklahoma!”

I refrained from saying it might have been his whistling skill that was the problem, not my powers of song recognition, but as neither one was all that outstanding, instead I asked, “Do you know any other song from that show?”

It turned out that he did, and in show order, from the opening scene to the rousing closing eponymous “Oklahoma!” itself.

“You never cease to amaze me,” I said. “Why do you know all those songs?”

“Got cast in the show my senior year of high school.” He shrugged. “Wanted to be the bad guy, but they stuck me as the male lead. Ladies first.” This last was because we were at the bowling alley and he reached out to hold the door for me.

I gave him a look as I went in, wondering how it was I’d never learned that he’d done musical theater, and making a mental note to hunt up his high school yearbook and look for pictures. Not that I doubted him, of course. More that I wanted to see a young Rafe dressed in a cowboy outfit.

“Something funny?” Ash asked.

He was sitting on a bench close to the front door, switching from street shoes to bowling shoes. “Almost always,” I said as Ash and Rafe did the fist-bump thing.

“What are you two doing here?” Bowling shoes tied, Ash stood and picked up his worn running shoes. “Subbing for someone?”

I could feel Rafe looking my way. He’d made it clear that he would take only a supportive role in this, so it was up to me. “Um,” I said. “Do you have a minute?”

Ash glanced at the bowling lanes. “The first league is running a little over, so yeah. What’s up?”

“Um, it’s . . .” All capacity for words suddenly fled. There was nothing in my head except for that little voice telling me how stupid I was for interfering in a relationship between two reasonable and intelligent adults. “It’s just . . .”

And then Rafe’s hands were on my shoulders. “Do you love Chelsea?” he asked bluntly.

“Look, guys,” Ash said, “I know you want to help, but—”

“Do you love her?” I asked, reaching up to feel the warmth and strength in Rafe’s hands. “Because that’s what matters.”

He looked away. “Yeah,” he finally said. “I do. Nothing seems to fit anymore. Everything’s flat, you know? Nothing makes sense. But . . .” He shook his head. “Love isn’t always enough.”

“Of course it isn’t.” I felt my jaw set. “But what if there was a way to get things to work out? You say you both want different things, but what if there’s a way for both of you to get what you need?”