“It’s perfect, baby girl,” Adele said, her eyes shining as she pulled Brighton in for a hug.
“Yeah, Lola did good,” Brighton said, holding her friend close and winking at Charlotte over her shoulder. “We’re thinking summer.”
“Not December?” Sloane asked, nudging Charlotte’s shoulder.
Charlotte laughed. “Going to try something a little different.”
“Good plan,” Adele said. “Plus, I want to swim in Lake Michigan. I’ve never even seen it.”
“Summer for sure, then,” Charlotte said.
“You’ll be my best mate?” Brighton asked Adele.
Adele tilted her head. “Like…?”
“Like maid of honor,” Brighton said. “But Adele, my darling, you are anything but a maiden.”
Adele roared at that, then pulled Brighton into her arms again. “Hell yes. To all of that.”
Charlotte and Sloane smiled at each other. Charlotte hadalready asked Sloane to be her own best mate last night, when she’d texted Sloane with the engagement news. The Berry sisters were the only people they planned to have in the wedding party, and Charlotte wanted Manish to officiate. She couldn’t think of anyone more perfect for the job, and she hoped Elle would be able to come east to play their cello as Brighton and Charlotte walked down the aisle.
To a new song.
One they planned to write together.
“Okay, okay, enough of that,” Adele said, but she wiped under her eyes a bit as she pulled back from Brighton. “I need a drink.”
“Hear, hear!” Manish said as Wes handed Sloane a glass of wine and Dorian did the same for Adele. Manish lifted his own glass. “A toast!”
Bonnie slipped glasses into Charlotte’s and Brighton’s hands, and they all waited while Manish grinned.
Charlotte felt like she might burst—the soft lights of their Christmas decorations, Brighton at her side, the Fairbrooks, her friends.
Her family.
She’d invited Anna…who had declined.
And while it hurt—her mother’s indifference would never stop hurting, as Talia had helped her realize and accept—Charlotte also knew,believed, that Anna was the one missing out. Anna’s lack of care for her daughter was just that—Anna’s.
“To the newly engaged Charlotte and Brighton,” Manish said, eyes glinting. “I never thought I’d live to see Charlotte Donovan so decidedly ungrumpy.”
“Easy,” Charlotte said, but she was smiling.
Manish laughed, but then he grew more serious. “And to friends. To family. To love.” He winked at Dorian, who grinned back.
“To love,” everyone echoed, then drank.
“All right, enough sappy sh—” Manish cut himself off, smiling wide-eyed at the Fairbrooks.
Bonnie laughed. “You can sayshit, Manish.”
“Okay, then, enough sappy shit!” Manish said. “What we all really want is a live performance by Beach Glass.”
Charlotte feigned confusion. “Who are they? Sounds made-up.”
But Brighton clapped and squealed, then hurried down the hall to their guest–slash–music room while everyone else settled on the turquoise sectional—a gift from Elle upon their move—and the squashy cream-colored armchairs Charlotte had brought from her own New York apartment. Wes pulled over two mismatched dining chairs from their small table and set them up in front of the tree.
“Et tu?” Charlotte asked him.
