“Would you stop?” I laugh, covering my face.
We shift to safer topics—Ruby’s sleep regression, Hazel’s classroom drama, Sophia’s potential movie deal—but eventually Blair glances at me with those soft, mom-level intuitive eyes.
“Can I ask something?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“No,” she concedes. “What are you so afraid of?”
The question slices right through me. “I was left at the altar,” I blurt before I can stop myself.
The table goes silent.
I force myself to keep going, even though my throat feels like it’s closing. “We had the venue booked. The dress. Hundreds of guests. I spent the morning getting ready with my mom and my bridesmaids, and I was so happy. So stupidly, blindly happy.” I swallow hard, but it doesn’t help.
Jess makes a small, wounded sound.
“His best man told me five minutes before the ceremony was supposed to start. Said he couldn’t go through with it. That he was sorry.” My voice cracks. “Turns out he’d been cheating on me for months. With someone from his office. He married her six months later.”
“Oh sweetheart,” Blair whispers.
The memory crashes over me. Standing in that white dress, makeup perfect, hair perfect, feeling like my entire body was made of glass and someone had just taken a hammer to it. The whispers I imagined from the guests, even though my mom rushed everyone out. The flowers that suddenly felt like a funeral arrangement. The terrible, suffocating humiliation of having to tell people, over and over, that there wouldn’t be a wedding.
I couldn’t eat for weeks. Couldn’t sleep. Kept replaying every moment of our relationship, searching for signs I’d missed. Wondering what was wrong with me that he could do that. What I lacked. Why I wasn’t enoughto keep him.
“It took me a really long time to come back from that,” I say quietly, looking down at my hands. “I questioned everything. Was it me? Was I not enough? Was I fundamentally unlovable?” I force myself to look up, meeting their eyes. “And I promised myself I’d never be that vulnerable again. Never let someone have that kind of power over me.”
My voice drops to almost a whisper. “Because what if Jake realizes I’m too much work? Too complicated? What if he decides I’m not worth it and just…leaves? I don’t know if I could survive that again.”
Jess reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “That wasn’t your failure. That was his.”
“Maybe. But there were no signs. I trusted him completely. I just, I’m not interested in going through that kind of pain again.”
Sophia’s expression softens. “I think Jake is worth the risk.”
“How do you know?” My voice is smaller than I’d like.
“Because it’s obvious he’s all in.” Stella says. “I think he’s the kind of guy you take the risk on.”
“And,” Blair adds gently, “you’re falling for him. Whether you want to or not.”
I don’t answer because they’re right. I am falling for him. Maybe I’ve been falling since July fourth. Maybe since that first doctor’s appointment when he held my hand. Maybe since he arranged groceries and prenatal vitamins without being asked. The terrifying part is I’m not panicking the way I should be.
With my ex, there were no red flags because everything was performative. Like we were playing the roles we weresupposed to play. He said the right things, did the right things, but there was always this distance. This sense that I had to earn his attention, his affection, his presence.
With Jake, it’s different. He shows up. Not because he has to, but because he wants to. He listens when I talk aboutSpellbound, asks thoughtful questions, celebrates my wins like they’re his wins too.
And the way he looks at me. God, the way he looks at me.
Like I’m not too much. Like my walls and my sarcasm and my fears don’t scare him away. Like he sees all of it and wants me anyway.
The thought should terrify me.
But underneath the fear, there’s something else. Something that feels dangerously close to hope.
Instead, I turn to Sophia. “So tell us everything about this potential movie.”
Everyone glances at each other, fully aware I’m changing the subject. I appreciate the moment they decide to let it go. Sophia shifts the conversation and laughter bubbles around the table again. But under it all, there’s a quiet understanding.
