That could’ve been her grandchild. The thought came unbidden. But yeah. Once, I thought I’d be the mother of Noah’s children, long before I’d asked myself if I wanted to be a mother at all.

Shit. Where was Alexander?

I turned, then froze. Sweet baby Jesus. Though I hadn’t ever seen her in person, I knew her right away. Gillian Epstein. Noah’s ex-fiancée.

What the what?

She looked up at me, and she obviously recognized me, too, because she flinched the teeniest bit. “Hi,” she said after a beat. “I’m Gillian Epstein.” Ah. A hard G, not the J sound. I hadn’t expected that.

“I’m Sadie. Barb’s daughter.”

“Believe me, I know who you are.” She forced a smile. “I was engaged to Noah a few years back.”

“Right. I knew that. From Facebook, that is. You know. We have mutual friends, I mean, of course we do, we grew up together, Noah and I that is, not you and me”—stop yourself, Sadie—“and I guess one of my friends commented on your picture, and you’d tagged Noah, so I . . . well. I knew he was engaged.”

She looked to the left, hoping for someone to save her, no doubt. I, too, cast about for a savior. Where had Carter gone? And why, why did Alexander have to be late today?

Gillian—I kind of hated the hard G—was even prettier in person. Olive skin, green eyes, really good lashes (natural, damn her). Perfect body, nice clothes. She even smelled nice, like oranges.

“So you and Noah stayed friends, I guess?” I said.

“No. It’s kind of hard to stay friends with the person who broke your heart and embarrassed you by calling off your wedding.”

Youch. “Yeah, that would be . . . tricky.” I felt sweat prickling in my armpits. “You’re very honest.”

“Are you and Noah still friends?” she asked.

“Oh, uh . . . yes? Sort of? Not really, no. I mean, it’s different, since he and I have known each other since kindergarten. Maybe before that. And we were never, um, engaged.”

She cocked a well-groomed eyebrow, as if doubting me.

“Gillian, uh . . . you mind if I ask why you’re here?”

“Your mother invited me. I’m an event planner, and I’m handling the town’s three hundred and fiftieth anniversary weekend. I wasn’t aware Noah and his . . . partner . . . would be here.”

“Mickey.” I lowered my voice. “She’s gay. They’re just coparents. It’s not romantic.”

“I know that.”

“Cool. Great. Information is good to have. That’s great.” I needed a drink. Gillian probably needed more to drink. Or a Xanax.

Ah. My mother was handing the baby off to Mickey. “Mom! Let me help you with dinner!” I said. “Excuse me, Gillian. So nice to meet you.”

I dragged my mom into the kitchen. “What are you doing?” I hissed.