“I wonder if Luke would take a hit of tomato ketchup for me. I might ask him later. Just casually.”

“I know this is our honeymoon. But just sometimes, I wish Luke was a girl.”

“I'll show Luke I can fit into the city. I'll show him I can be a true New Yorker. I'll go the gym, and then I'll eat a bagel, and I'll ... shoot someone, maybe? Or maybe just the gym will be enough.”

“Ciao," I say casually, and flick my hair back. "Si. Ciao."I could so be Italian. Except I might have to learn a few more words.”

“I thought marriage was for ever. I really did. I thought Luke and I would grow old and grey together. Or at least, old. (I'm not intending to go grey, ever...)”

“Becky . . .” Luke looks at me carefully. “Have you ever been on a horse in your life?”“Yes! Of course I have!”Once. When I was ten. And I fell off.But I probably wasn’t concentrating or something.“Just be careful, won’t you?” he says. “I’m not quite ready to become a widower.”

“Luke!...We have to be able to do cool dancing so we don't embarrass our child!""I'm a very cool dancer," replies Luke. "Very cool indeed,""No you're not!""I had dance lessons in my teens, you know," he retorts. "I can waltz like Fred Astire.""Waltz?" I echo derisively. "That's not cool! We need to know all the street moves. Watch me."I do a couple funky head-wriggle body-pop maneuvers, like they do on rap videos. When I look up, Luke is gaping at me."Sweetheart," he says. "What are you doing?""It's hip-hop!" I say. "It's street!""Becky! Love!" Mum has pushed her way through her dancing guests to reach me. "What's wrong? Has labour started?"Honestly. My family has no idea about contemporary urban steet dance trends.”