“He’s getting married,” she said, squeezing my hands.

I pulled away from her as I tried to understand what she was saying. “Of course he’s not getting married. We’ve only been apart two months.” I didn’t like to say we’d split up because it wasn’t an accurate description of what was happening. We were just apart right now. It was just a temporary thing. He was just freaked out that all our friends were getting married and people kept asking us when we were next. He was just doing that guy thing where, just before they pop the question, they have a man meltdown. Just look at Prince William and Kate Middleton. They had a three-month break before William proposed.

“I’m so sorry, Stella.”

Florence looked up at me, her eyes filled with tears, and my heart began to gallop. She was serious. “What do you mean? Who to? How do you know?”

“The invitation was delivered to Gordy’s office. And then there was the email follow-up with the schedule. Never mind.”

I tried to swallow but my throat was too tight. I reached for the glass of wine that Florence was hastily pouring. “I don’t get it. There must be some mistake.” How could Matt be getting married? He hadn’t proposed to me, and we’d been going out for seven years. We’d been living together for six. It wasn’t possible. Florence must have it wrong.

Florence shook her head. “It gets worse. I really don’t know how to say this, but he’s marrying Karen.”

I shivered as my body turned cold.

I couldn’t speak.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t think.

Florence slid a white card in front of me.

I traced the embossed writing with my fingertip as my stomach churned slowly and relentlessly, like it was mixing concrete. It was the invitation I would have picked out for my own wedding—thick white card, a thin gold surround, and an elegant black font. Simple. Classic. Refined.

Apparently stealing the love of my life wasn’t enough. My best friend had to have my taste in wedding invitations, too.

“Karen and Matt?” I searched Florence’s face, looking for answers. “My Matt? My Karen?”

Florence tilted her head to the side. “For some reason, they’ve invited you. I had no idea they were even a thing. Neither did Gordy.”

They sent me an invitation? I suppose I was the common denominator between them. “How long have they . . .?” Was this the real reason Matt left me? His excuses when he left seemed so lacking, looking back⁠—

I’m not sure we were meant to be together forever.

We don’t want the same things in life.

I’d assumed he was just getting jittery as we approached the time for weddings and babies.

Apparently, I was wrong.

“Karen swears it’s since you two split up but . . .”