She smiles. “I’ll just say this—I wish I’d been there in the bar when it happened so I could punch her myself for hurting you.”

“Thank you.”

“And lord knows I dated the wrong person too many times to count.” She rolls her eyes. “We all do it.”

“But not anymore,” I say, putting my knitting down in my lap. “I’m done dating people who don’t deserve me. And you’re with someone who thinks you hung the moon, so that’s it, right? No more big mistakes for us.”

“Right!” Lark lifts her coffee mug in the air to toast me. “Cheers.”

I take a sip of my own and decide I don’t want to talk about my woes anymore. “So. Florida! How was it? Tell me everything.”

“Oh, it was great.” She takes a big gulp of her coffee, and her eyes shift to the side.

Her dodge is subtle. But I’ve known Lark for almost ten years and I’ve memorized every one of her expressions. “What?”

“Hmm?”

“Tell me the thing. Whatever thing you’re not telling me. Is everything okay?” I sit up a little straighter, worried.

She puts the mug down and folds her hands. “Everything is fine. Really. Florida was lovely.” There are spots of color on her cheekbones now.

“Lovely,” I repeat slowly. I’m missing something. “And?”

“And what?”

“I don’t know what. You tell me.”

Lark bites her lip. “The timing is shitty.”

“Shitty for what?”

“For you.” She lifts those brown eyes and finally levels with me. “Zach asked me to marry him, and I said yes.”

Oh.

Oh, wow.

A long beat goes by while I try to process this. My brain offers up a vision of the future—Lark in a white dress, her olive skin radiant against the silk. She’s staring up into Zachariah’s eyes as she promises to be his forever.

And I’m standing right behind her clutching a bouquet and desperate for an entire bottle of vodka.

As I roll the scene forward, it doesn’t get any easier, either. Babies will be next. I’ll be the one throwing the shower for Lark. And when the baby comes, I’ll be Auntie May, holding Lark’s first child against my chest in her hospital room.

Oh, wow. The wave of pain that rolls through me is startling in its power. I’ve imagined all of this before. Not a bit of it should surprise me. I want my friends to be happy together.

So why can’t I breathe?

And Lark is waiting for me to say something. My face is hot and my heart is cold and it is a colossal effort to swallow. “Hey,” I choke out. “That’s amazing! Congratulations!” My horrible fake smile is back on my face and my eyes are burning. “You must be so excited,” I croak.

Just then, Zara Rossi passes us again. She’s gathering someone else’s abandoned coffee cups from a table. When I glance at her, she’s looking right at me, her face stricken.

Which means I’m doing a terrible job of concealing how steamrolled I feel right now.