“So . . . is everything in place for the grand gesture?”

I make a face at my reflection and close the compact. “We’re not talking about me right now. But actually . . . are you sure you’re okay with me hijacking your wedding to tell Nick I love him?”

Annie’s mouth drops open. “I’m sorry, have we met? This is my dream. Performing a grand gesture at my wedding is the greatest gift you could possibly give me.”

“Good, because I didn’t get you a real gift.”

“Please. You baked a million pies and helped me with everything. That’s a gift.”

My phone buzzes with a text from Milo. It’s a selfie of him, Fred, and my dad at Dad’s place.

We’ve watched two episodes of Three’s Company. I actually . . . love this show?

I snort-laugh and think for a moment about how glad I am that Milo’s making the effort to help out now. But on the other hand, it means that all the worry I would normally direct toward my dad is now flowing in only one direction: my upcoming grand declaration of love.

But then Annie grabs my hand and whispers, “I wish they were here.”

She doesn’t have to tell me who she means. Her parents. The hopeless romantics whose love story was better than any rom-com.

“They are, Annie,” I say softly. “I feel like they’re here, don’t you?”

She presses her lips together and nods, batting her eyelashes quickly like she’s trying not to cry, and before I can grab one of my emergency tissues, Tyler knocks and pokes her head in. “We’re ready for you guys. Dungeon Master Rick looks like he’s getting impatient.”

Annie sighs. “Well, I chose Dungeon Master Rick as my officiant because I knew he’d run this wedding with the same ruthless efficiency he displays in a D&D campaign.”

“I understand about half of that sentence,” I say, following Tyler out of the office. “But let’s go.”

We walk down the sidewalk, Annie carefully maneuvering in her heels, cars honking at us. Annie waves and smiles, and it starts to feel real. This is her wedding, the day she’s been dreaming about forever. And a part of me, a part I don’t like to admit exists, feels a bit sad. Not because I’m dreaming of my fairy-tale wedding, but because this is where our paths irrevocably separate. Up until now, even when she’s been out of town for work, we’ve been the same: girls from Ohio, girls who grew up being each other’s person, girls who shared everything, girls who technically lived on the same property, if in different houses.

And now, that’s changing. It’s not like she’s been staying regularly in her old bedroom anyway, but at least I knew there was a chance she’d be there. Once she’s married? Probably not. As she’s told me before, Drew barely fits in that twin bed (and something tells me she’s not going to banish him to the trundle).