Bea’s reaction to Freddie’s engagement had mirrored ours: abject shock, smothered by appropriate congratulatory words and then a lot of frowning.

“I always assumed he was going to run off with a cocktail waitress,” she had confessed to me. “I don’t have a binder for this one.”

To Freddie, I cracked, “Lady Bollocks is gonna Lady Bollocks.”

He shook his head, looking suddenly tired. “No, I can read between Bea’s lines. She’s cross,” he said. “I’d hoped she’d be happy for me, even if I did fire her. She willed this into existence, after all. I made a correct woman out of her.” He scratched his head. “At least Cilla and Gaz are on my side.”

The sound Gaz had made when Freddie told him was the exact same one you make when your friend who was supposed to bring drinks to the party shows up with nonalcoholic beer, and I was glad it had escaped Freddie’s notice. “Everyone is on your side,” I said. “We’re just going to miss you.”

Freddie nodded. “I’ll miss you, too,” he said, and the nakedness of it washed over his face for a second before he almost literally shrugged it off. “The Netherlands is beautiful, though. Far less air pollution.”

“Says the man holding cigarettes,” I noted.

“Well, I’ve got to ease my poor lungs into it, you know,” he said. “Can’t go cold turkey on deadly particles.” He smirked at me. “Though there are loads of other legal things over there that are probably terrible for me.”

I laughed and tossed a velvet pillow at him. “Don’t be childish, Frederick.”

“Excellent,” Freddie said, plucking the pillow deftly out of the air and tucking it behind his head. “You already sound like a mum. Do another one. Tell me not to sniff glue or something.”

I threw another pillow. “Too late, I think.”

“Cripes!” He ducked. “How many pillows do you have over there?”

“We bought an arsenal because we knew she’d need something to hurl during Cubs games,” Nick said, strolling in from the foyer. “And, of course, at idiots.”

Freddie smiled tentatively. “You’ll have to have Gaz over twice as often once I’m gone to keep your throwing arm from atrophying.”

“Or, you could visit often.”

We all let that sit there. Nick loosened his tie and bent over my lap.

“Hello, babies,” he said. “How’s Tuesday treated you so far? How many pancakes have you eaten today?”

“About seventy-four,” I said. As someone who generally preferred waffles, this was a very surreal pregnancy side effect.

“You can’t call them babies. You need to try out names,” Freddie said. “Like…Fred and George, after the Weasleys.”

“What if they’re girls?” I asked.

“Fredwina, then. Beautiful name,” he teased. “Ooh, or even better, sell the rights to a charity. Meet Her Royal Highness the Princess British Equine Veterinary Association and her sister the Princess Shark Guardian.”

“Helpful as ever,” Nick said. “I thought you were at The Hague learning about the Dutch parliament.”