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something to his pea-brained pet’s preference for his own space. Nick, too, had been living alone for nearly a decade, and he was wary of abandoning what Emma derisively called his bachelor pad. He knew the stereotype—that men were commitment-phobes, from Mars, et cetera—but Nick felt the opposite. He believed himself so committed that he felt terrified of moving in with Emma and having her discover some so-called deal-breaker. It was one thing for her to crash at his place and have to navigate piles of comic books, or to spot a month-old block of tofu festering in his fridge, or an X-rated clip loaded up on his laptop (she minded the rotting food more than the porn). But it was quite another thing for Nick’s unwholesome habits to contaminate Emma’s own home. A home that would also be his, in a new location with a new layout and new quirks and surprises and frustrations. Nick’s stomach flipped. Still, all of these worries had become moot when Emma eventually made it clear that, if he didn’t give in to the experiment in cohabitation, Nick was going to lose her.
    The loudspeaker emitted a beep, then hissed with static. “Attention, empty school. Paging Mr. O’Hare. Mr. Nicholas O’Hare, please report to the principal’s office, on the double!” Nick grunted. The voice belonged to Carl, who’d just been promoted to assistant principal. But Nick didn’t mind the excuse for a break, and when he arrived at Carl’s office, his friend had his feet propped on the desk and was cracking open a beer. “Want one? It’s just past noon, so we’re good.”
    “Where’s Lara?”
    “Our beloved principal is at some workshop all day. Something about the state’s new standards of excellence—in other words, blow me. They tried to make me go, but I talked my way out of it. More important matters to attend to here.” Carl raised his can.
    “Clearly. Pass me one of those.”
    “So, I hear Emma’s finally roped you into the next big step of relationship-hood.”
    “Did that landlady call you?”
    “Oh, you mean the C.I.A. agent with the epic list of questions about your personal character and criminal record? Yes, she certainly did. Congrats, dude.”
    “Thanks.”
    “With me and Suze, it only took six months for her to wear me down into living together. Two years in, we were bound for life and Suze had grown obese with the fetus that would become our whiny, diarrhea-prone, bank account–draining progeny.”
    “Nice talk, Carl.”
    “I love the rugrat, of course.”
    “Of course.”
    “But you’re a tougher case, Mr. Totebag-carrying, Tree-hugging Marlboro Man, always going on about how much you care about those snot-covered students of ours. You’re not an easy one to wrangle in, are you?”
    “Is there a point to this meeting, or were you just testing out how your voice sounded over the loudspeaker?”
    “Mostly the latter.”
    “Narcissist.”
    “I’ll admit it, Nicky boy, the power’s gone to my head. Mwa-ha-ha! ” He threw his head back. “But I also wanted to toast your blind leap into the deep pit that some call relationship maturity. Cheers, to you and Emma!”
    They glugged the remainder of their beers, and Carl unleashed a powerful belch.
    “So,” Nick asked, “what did you say to that landlady, anyway?”
    “I told her the truth, that you’re a gentleman and a scholar.” Nick felt a small blip of joy. If he was resigned to move in with Emma, at least they’d end up in that apartment that was almost too good to be true.

Chapter 3
    E mma drew seven tiles from the Scrabble pouch, then arranged and rearranged the letters on her rack until a seven-letter word emerged: BURGERS. A bingo on her first turn! She laid the tiles down on the board, and tallied her points: 76.
    “On second thought, I think I’m too tired to play,” said Nick.
    “No way, dude! You’re the one who convinced me.”
    Nick sighed, examined his tiles, then dropped FAX above and slightly to the left of BURGERS,