Bella Summer Takes a Chance by Michele Gorman

malice, but with a certainty that scared the crap out of me. I couldn’t let myself believe she was right. Her experience, and Marjorie’s, just meant there were two kinds of relationships.
    ‘Kat, believe me, I haven’t made a mistake. I spent Friday night with Mattias and it was nice, but that’s all it was. Nice. Comfortable. Like spending the night with you or Clare. Nothing more. And I have to believe there’s more out there.’
    ‘You spent the night with Mattias?’
    ‘Not like that. He asked me over for dinner. That’s all. I slept on the sofa. Absolutely nothing happened. It was just a friendly evening.’
    ‘But that’s wonderful! B., you can get back together with him.’
    ‘My feelings haven’t changed. We’re friends. That’s not enough for a future. At least, it’s not enough for mine.’ I didn’t tell her how nice it felt to be back in the flat, or in Mattias’ company, or that he was texting again. Just friendly messages asking about my day, but she’d get the wrong idea if she knew. Nostalgia and a shared love of Spanish cuisine weren’t the cornerstone of a future together. And I didn’t believe that friendship alone held together Kat and James’ marriage either.
    Mattias and I had talked about marriage over the years, generally after well-meaning friends demanded to know whether nuptials were on the cards. Our answer was consistent, and convincing. No need for that piece of paper to prove our commitment. After all, we’d been together longer than many married couples. Mattias did check in every so often, away from friends’ questions, to see how I felt about it. My answer was honest. I’d never felt the urge to walk down the aisle. In truth, the very idea made me feel a little sick. That probably wasn’t a healthy reaction to the idea of spending your life with someone you love. Mattias’ reaction was more sensible, and less nauseous. His parents were happily unmarried, as Scandies often are. He was comfortable with the status quo. His point of view was cultural. Mine flew in the face of my upbringing. Married parents, married brothers, married friends. And yet I didn’t even entertain the notion.
    Kat and James were different. He proposed to her in a little ski village near her hometown. He wanted to take one more run, down to the village. She preferred the gondola. They bickered, Kat wanting to meet at the cafe at the bottom, James insisting they ski the last run together. James won. And halfway down he stopped alongside her, unclipped his skis and clumsily got on one knee. They were married a year later.
    I remembered my friend’s face when she told me the story. She’d looked like she was in love. Mattias and I never were. It was just an easy relationship, as long as we didn’t delve too deeply into its inner workings. We were the flat stones thrown across the surface of the pond, enjoying the movement and heat of the sun while skimming until, eventually, momentum stopped and we sank.
    ‘I think you just don’t remember about you and James,’ I said.
    ‘B., does it really matter?’
    ‘Of course it matters! I have to believe in it.’
    She sighed. ‘But the passion, even if you have it, doesn’t last. That’s not what makes the relationship work. It’s the friendship. You can marry and be happy with anyone who is your best friend. Trust me, you’ve got to have the friendship for it to last. James and I wouldn’t have made it through these last few years without that.’
    She was talking about Jonathan. I stroked my friend’s shoulder. Those were hard years. ‘I know that friendship needs to be in the equation, but so does passion. Surely you have to be in love, at least at the start.’
    ‘No, you don’t,’ she said with her usual conviction. ‘Love doesn’t really come into it at all, after awhile.’ Her sliding-away eyes said more than her words.
    ‘Kat, what’s wrong?’
    She stared at the enormous yellow, green and blue blown glass chandelier