“They’re vegan,” Izzy said, mouth full.
“Absolutely not,” Danica said, pushing the vegan omelet toward Izzy. “Boundaries.”
Pete popped a grape into her mouth and spoke around it. “Vegan eggs are like the weirdest breakfast suggestion.”
“You’re a breakfast suggestion,” Izzy shot back.
For ten breaths, it almost felt like the morning could be ordinary. Plates slid, napkins unfolded, syrup stayed, mercifully, in its lane. Even the ache in Maggie’s chest settled under the weight of butter and routine.
Then the first plate was empty and the second was possible, and the chatter drifted toward the unsolvable: wedding venues.
It started as a joke and then turned into a brainstorm the way all their best ideas did — loud, over-caffeinated, half-sincere.
“Will it be too difficult to find somewhere else in Bulgaria?” Maggie asked, sipping her coffee.
“I mean, I could fly out there and try to figure it out, but this venue was already like pulling teeth. I’m sure there’s something in Sofia we could find,” Pete began.
Danica’s shoulders dropped. “I don’t want you to have to plan the whole thing. Maybe we should just elope.”
“You could get married by Elvis,” Maggie suggested, glancing out the window.
Pete looked excited by the idea, but Danica shook her head. “My parents would kill me.”
“What about planning something Stateside? Hotel refunds should still be available, and I’m sure most people could getflight credits, if not full refunds,” Gwen said, infuriatingly realistic. “You could do something in Denver to keep the planning easier.”
“Let’s have a joint wedding,” Izzy said with a grin, and Pete high-fived her as Danica and Kiera rolled their eyes.
“What about Telluride?” Kiera suggested. “Aspens, mountains, snow in the winter. Really take it back to the beginning.”
“I mean, I’m sure Aunt Jade has other properties in her empire,” Maggie said, reaching for another slice of bacon. “She’s probably sitting on three wedding venues and a haunted monastery.”
That got a ripple of laughter, but Kiera’s eyes lit. “Wait. Aunt Jade has a lake house in Michigan. Wouldn’t it be hilariously full circle if you two actually got married at another of Aunt Jade’s properties?”
Danica hesitated, but Maggie saw it — the gleam in her eye. The wheels were already turning.
The chatter spun into happy chaos. Izzy argued for cornfields with the conviction of a person who had never met a bug. Kiera stole a hotel pen and began sketching a lakeside arbor on a napkin, labeling it with arrows like a crime scene diagram. Danica pretended to be noncommittal, which was how Maggie knew she was already planning the power grid for the tent. The table buzzed with warmth again, laughter spilling over like champagne.
Pete raised her fork, pointing it like a gavel. “We could hire a Prince impersonator for Michigan. Bring a little Vegas magic to the Midwest.”
Izzy practically spit out her coffee. “Yes. Elvis for vows, Prince for reception. Iconic.”
Danica groaned. “We’re not having a theme wedding based on Vegas impersonators.”
“Fine,” Pete said. “But we’re getting a fog machine.”
Kiera rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Only if wealso rent bug zappers the size of small planets. Have you met Michigan mosquitoes?”
Maggie chimed in, smirking. “I’ll bring citronella candles. Maybe Aunt Jade has those tiki torches.”
Izzy tapped her chin. “Lakefront wedding plus cornfield reception after-party. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re wrong,” Danica said primly, but her lips twitched.
The banter spiraled — Pete insisting she’d rather wrestle a bear than battle mosquitoes, Izzy pitching a corn tuxedo for the officiant, Kiera countering with a lakeside lantern release. The food dwindled, coffee refilled endlessly, and laughter layered over the lingering tension like plaster on cracked walls.
Maggie laughed at the right moments, stole bites from Izzy’s plate, and raised her glass to the ridiculous Michigan plan. She pitched in — “string lights across the dock, picture it” — and ignored the way her voice thinned when it carried across to Gwen. On the surface, it felt easy, just like them.
But under the syrup and chatter, her chest tightened. She caught Gwen’s gaze across the table — steady, waiting, hopeful — and she looked away, a bitter taste in her mouth battling against the sweetness of pancakes.
