CHAPTER 1
Olivia
APRIL
MOM
Are you okay, sweetheart? You seemed a little sad today when we left the airport.
Adding a cup of flour to the bowl of dry ingredients on my kitchen island, I can almost see my mom nervously tucking her blond hair behind her ear while she waits for an answer to her text. She knows me better than anyone, but since I don’t want to talk about my self-proclaimed hot girl slump right now, I take another big sip of my wine, right from the bottle, and lie.
ME
I’m fine, it was a great weekend. And so nice to see the whole family.
MOM
It really was, wasn’t it? Aunt Lena sent me the photos.
My phone pings as, one by one, the photos come through: my cousin in her perfect wedding dress, with her perfectly handsome groom—who also happens to be a doctor—in the beautiful Florida sunshine where we spent the weekend.
Down the hatch goes another big swig.
DAD
Since we’re sending photos *Side eye emoji*
His message is followed by a shot of my uncle Bobby passed out drunk in his piece of cake at the reception. I laugh as I continue sifting my ingredients. My dad is always trying to make me feel better. I know he could tell something was off with me, but he’s always been there to balance my mom. Everyone knows Lynn Sutton is a hopeless romantic, and even though she’s my adoptive mom we’re a lot alike, because I too am usually ga-ga for a good love story. Though not lately.
Yes, my cousin’s wedding was beautiful. Just like my best friend CeCe’s wedding was last year, and how I’m certain my other best friend Ginger’s will be in a few weeks.
Everyone I know is either already married or getting married, having babies, or both, while I’m still coming home alone,extraalone since the death of my fifteen-year-old orange tabby cat Biscuit. My best furry friend went peacefully in his sleep almost two weeks ago. It feels crazy to have cried over a cat as much as I did, but I spent two days with swollen eyes and tissues after that chunky little ball of fluff left me. Now, I push the brimming tears down, just as a private message from my mom comes through.
MOM
Your Prince Charming is out there.
MOM
Remember, I didn’t meet your dad until I was thirty-two.
She might be a worrywart, but she’s bang on. Ihavebeen feeling like my time to meet my soulmate has passed, or like my biological clock is ticking, though I’m not even thirty yet. A flash of one of my favorite movies,27 Dresses,runs through my head as I crack two eggs into a dish.Always a bridesmaid, never a bride.
I’m still envisioning my very own James Marsden showing up out of nowhere to sweep me off my feet as I mix my banana bread batter. Nine-thirty p.m. isn’t the time I’d normally bake, but when I’m sad I reach for wine, sweet treats, and a good rom-com. Which is exactly my plan for tonight.
Just as I go to turn up the volume of my country playlist, my phone starts ringing and my best friend Ginger’s pretty smiling face pops up on the screen.
She probably wants to talk about wedding plans and I know if I don’t answer now, she’ll just call again.
“Babe, you’re back?” she asks animatedly into the phone. “Yep.” I look around my all-too-quiet space. “Wedding conference! I can’t wait to tell you both what I found today.” She’s already adding our other best friend CeCe to the call before I can respond. Ginger is always energetic, but as a bride? She’s over-the-top giddy. The funny thing is, she’s already married, but you’d never know it as she plans her formal wedding to one of CeCe’s older brothers, Cole. They eloped “accidentally” one drunken night in Vegas last summer and, somehow,thatwas what pushed them to realize they’ve been in love since they were teenagers.
A half hour later, most of my rosé is gone. I’m more than a little drunk, and still listening to the two of them chatter, while I line a pan with parchment paper, pour in the batter, andput my bread in the oven.
“… And we’re gonna have a photo booth and props,” Ginger continues.
I’ve barely said anything since she called. Taking what’s left of my rosé with me, I move outside into my dark and chilly backyard, my fuzzy sherpa sweater wrapped around my floral silk pajamas, my cow slippers snuggled on my feet.
“… And oh my God, we got that videographer we wanted too,” Ginger continues.
