“Girl, we have a lot to unpack here, because you are freaking out.” She gets ready to tick points off on her fingers, and I know that means she’s fired up. “For starters, there’s nothing wrong with getting married if that’s what you want. But also, you don’t have to do that. You can just live your life, run your business, and make out with hot men. That is plenty. That is more than fine. If you feel any rush to get married, that’s your own doing. You can chalk it up to societal pressure all you want, but you’re a single girl who planned a wedding before meeting her groom—I can’t help you there.”

I want to shrink into my cocktail.

“Second, don’t assume marriage has to be boring,” she continues. “I mean, sure, decades of monogamy might not always be the most exciting thing on the planet, but if you’re dreading a marriage from the start, that’s a red flag. The good is supposed to outweigh the bad: stable love, happiness, and support, in exchange for a promise to be faithful. You know, in all these months of hearing about Blake, I’ve never once heard you sound excited to marry him. It was more like . . . you decided you were going to marry Blake, and that was that. You both deserve more than that, Eliza.”

“I don’t—” I start to speak up to protest, but she holds out a finger to shush me.

“I’ve wanted to say this for months,” she spits out. “It’s okay to want to feel something. That’s not weird; that’s what makes you human. I can only imagine how stressed you’ve been these past few months, but the times you’ve seemed happiest are the times you’re around Raj. He brings out a side in you I haven’t seen since you launched Brooklyn Jewels—you’re chill and goofy and relaxed. I just hope you realize how rare that is. You’re so lucky to have found someone like that. It’s one thing to make sacrifices for a relationship, but it’s not worth it unless it’s the right relationship. And you’ve found it . . . just not where you expected.”

Even Carmen seems thrown off guard by the intensity of her speech. She slumps back into her seat, shakes her head a little, and downs a heavy sip of her drink. “All righty then,” she mutters to herself. We sit and stare at each other, letting the gravity of her words sink in.

“I’m not ready to marry Raj,” I say quietly. “At least not for, like, years.”

Carmen’s laugh echoes around the bar. “God, Eliza, I’m not telling you to marry him! I’m just saying to give him a chance. You’d be stupid to pass that up.”