A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. As always, if you recognize it, I don't own it.

Before I go any further with this, I ought to explain the origins of the marriage pact. It all started when I was twelve and George was seventeen. No, it started even earlier than that. When I was four and George was nine, I kissed him during a family dinner and announced that someday I was going to marry him. He told me to stop licking people like I was a dog.

But back to when I was twelve. My parents were having marital problems, and so they sent me to England to spend the summer with the Knightleys so they could work on their marriage. George had a girlfriend, and I had a crush on George. I was heartbroken, but I was determined to hide it from everyone-especially George.

And that worked beautifully until the day he found me in the backyard crying. I wasn't crying about him; I swear. But I was in the backyard crying because I was convinced that my parents were going to get divorced. And George came and sat down next to me, put his arm around me, and told me that no matter what happened, I'd always be his best girl and he'd never let anyone hurt me.

And I told him that I'd never marry him because he was too nice to marry. He laughed and told me to let him know how that worked out for me.

After that, we didn't talk about marriage much for the next fifteen years. I occasionally wondered why he had never gotten married, but I never got the nerve up to ask him. He did date; he wasn't a hermit or anything. But nothing ever got serious.

And then came the night when I broke up with Paul in November of 2010. It was the only one of our break-ups that I ever initiated. I was twenty-seven; George was thirty-two.

We were in the living room of the apartment we shared. George had done most of the decorating of the lofty, rustic space. Few people who visited us ever believed that my tall, thin, very masculine roommate could have decorated this space that seemed to have been ripped from the pages of an Anthropologie catalog. And so I just took to smiling and blushing whenever anyone complimented me on the space.

But there we were. I remember that I was wearing a baggy, navy blue sweater; I'm sure that I had Kleenex stuffed up the sleeves. George was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, an odd outfit for his gangly frame, but that was his style. I even remember that I had bright pink nail polish on my toenails, but I don't know why that detail stuck with me over so many years.

"Em, why are you angry?" George asked as I sniffled my way through Sleepless in Seattle.

I shook my head. "Maybe I'm dumb, but I thought that maybe, just maybe, he could be the one."

"Why did you think that?" his voice was surprisingly soft and gentle.

"I know you didn't like him," I began harshly.

"No, this isn't about me. I just want to know why you thought that Paul was the one. What made him so special at first? And how did that change?"

"Good gravy, it sounds like you're writing essay questions about my relationship."

George laughed. "Well, I have given a few essay-based exams in my life."

"So what do you want to know, Professor Knightley?"

"What do you want out of life, Em?"

I sighed. "I don't know. I want to be happy. And I want to be loved. I want to be safe, taken care of-you know. I want things to always be like this."

He smiled. "You want to spend the rest of your life living in this apartment with me?"

"Well, maybe not in this apartment, but I really do enjoy living with you."

"Then marry me," he replied without a touch of humor in his voice.

"I just broke up with Paul. I can't marry you."
"I'm not suggesting that we run down to the JP tomorrow and tie the knot. But in a couple of years, we could get married."

"Maybe," I replied casually as if this was a totally normal idea.

"It's just an idea," he said.

I smiled. "Let's make a deal."

"Oh dear," he sighed. George had heard far too many preposterous ideas come after that phrase.

"Hey now, listen to me. I think this is a good idea."

He smiled. "Okay, spill."

"I propose that if we're both still single when I turn thirty we should get married."

"Are you serious?" George asked.

I nodded. "As the grave."

"Okay, then I consent. But are we getting married on your thirtieth birthday or during the year following that birthday?"

"On my thirtieth birthday, we'll hop down to the Justice of the Peace and do the deed."

He extended his hand. "Let's shake hands on it then, shall we?"

I smiled and shook his hand. "I doubt anything will ever come of it, but it's nice to have a plan in place."

We then wrote the whole pact down and signed it. Then we put it in George's copy of his favorite Shakespeare play, Much Ado About Nothing.

At some point along the way, we amended the pact to include two children in the deal because we both wanted to have a family. I wanted kids of course, and George was born to be a dad. He needed a daughter. A daughter (or two) would complete him.

Present Day

Anne Shirley once remarked that tomorrow is always fresh with no mistakes in it. And that's what I was looking for the next morning. I just wanted a good, peaceful day. I wanted things between George and me to be the way that they'd always been.

But I was pregnant. And that was not the way things had always been. That was a change, something that could get in the way of my friendship with George. Nevertheless, I was hopeful and determined that things wouldn't change.

But some things must change. The cup of coffee that George had always made me wasn't on the kitchen counter when I stumbled into the kitchen that morning. "No more coffee," he told me when I looked at him grumpily. "I made you tea instead. It's better for the baby."

I took the mug of tea from his hands and smiled. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

He smiled. "Someone has to take care of you, pumpkin."

George shrugged. "It's a nice, cutesy name. It's perfect for you."

"So you're not calling me big and round?"

He chuckled. "No, not at all, I think you're adorable."

"But I'm going to get big and round soon. And statistically speaking, I'll be very emotionally insecure about it. And then you won't think I'm adorable."

George smiled. "Em, you're my best friend. I'll always think you're adorable."

"Even when I look like I've swallowed a pumpkin?"

He smiled before coming around the counter and hugging me. "No matter what happens, I'll always think you're the cutest little Emma Woodhouse ever."

"Even when I'm not little?"

He held me close and kissed my nose. "Em, you're my best friend, and I've known you since you were a baby. I will always think you're beautiful. And I'm actually kind of excited for you to have a baby. I think you'll be a good mom."

I looked up at him. "Do you really?"

He smiled. "You love kids. Kids love you. You are one of the most caring, compassionate people I know. You will be an amazing mom I know."

"But I'll be alone."

"No you won't, pumpkin. You'll always have me."

"Always?" I repeated. "Will you be in the delivery room, holding my hand the entire time?"

"You can cuss me out and break my hand if you need to," he replied.

I looked him in the eye. "And this doesn't change anything about the pact, does it? You'll still marry me if I'm single on my thirtieth birthday even if I have a baby, won't you?"

George nodded. "If you insisted, I'd marry you tomorrow, but I doubt that you'd agree to that."

I shook my head. "I can't marry you right now. I'm not good enough for you. I need to grow up and heal from being with Paul before I can marry anyone."

He pressed his lips together and nodded. "Of course, I don't understand, but I can accept that."

"Thanks, George," I replied. "Thanks for being the best friend in the history of the world."

You're probably wondering why I was so steadfast in refusing to marry George then and there when I was perfectly willing to marry George in the future. I can try to explain that. I idolized George at a certain level. I had put him on a pedestal. George Knightley, in my opinion, was perfect. He wasn't like Paul Churchill who had gotten me pregnant only to bail on me. He was steady and constant. He would be there for the long haul. And I didn't think that I was worth of that. I saw him as too good for me.

I think that at some subconscious level I knew that he was in love with me and I reciprocated those feelings. But that was all very subconscious in those days. I wasn't ready to acknowledge the fact that I was in love with him and he was everything I wanted in life. I was too angry with myself for having gotten into the whole mess with Paul in the first place. And while I was open to the baby I was carrying, I viewed myself as somehow tainted by the time that I had spent with Paul.

"George," I called loudly one morning about two weeks after George's return from England. "Can you please come here?"

"Where is here?" he yelled back.

"My bedroom," I replied.

"Why do I have to come?"

"Just come here and I'll explain."

Two seconds later, George's blond head was poking into my room. "What do you want?"

"I need help buttoning my pants."

"You need what?" he asked.

"Help buttoning my pants," I repeated. "They won't button because my belly is too big."

He sighed. "Can't you just wear something else? Wear a dress or something, Em."

"George, I have a doctor's appointment today. I want to wear pants. So please help me button my stinking pants."

That just elicited another sigh from him. But he did walk into the room. "Okay, show me what I need to do."

I pulled up my shirt slightly. "See my pants. Button them."

"On one condition," he replied.

"What?" I barked.

"After your doctor's appointment, you have to buy at least one pair of maternity pants."

"Fine," I sighed. "Just button me up."

"Ask nicely, Emma Clare."

"Please button me up, you idiot."

He complied and then pulled my shirt down over my belly. "I think you look cute."

I put my hands on my belly. "I think I look fat."
"Nah," he replied. "You're still my adorable Emma."

"And you're still full of it."

"Whatever," he replied. "Let's just get ready for your doctor's appointment."

"You're coming with me?"

"Well, duh, I have to be there when you find out if you're having a boy or a girl. That is one of my official duties as your best friend."

I smiled. "You're the best. "

George stood up, rolling his eyes. "Well duh; that is part of my job description as your best friend. If I am your best friend, I must be the best."

"You're ridiculous."

"And you love it. Otherwise you wouldn't keep me around."

"You keep me from being bored. I just keep you around for your entertainment value."

George snorted. "Well, gee, thanks. I feel the love. Maybe I won't go to your appointment with you or stick around to see the baby born. I mean, if I'm just here for entertainment, I've got to be pretty darn easy to replace."

I sighed. "George, you shouldn't believe everything that I say. I know I don't listen to half of it. "

A/N: Thanks for reading and please review!