“That just means we’ll have to do this again after she arrives.” April swirled the ruby liquid in her glass. “Lord knows I’m always up for wine.”

She said it with a goofy smile, but something in her eyes made me wonder if she was unhappy beneath the cheerful façade. Maybe Chloe’s engagement and Frannie’s wedding were taking a psychological toll on her too. I’d made up my mind to focus on their happiness and be one hundred percent glad they’d found their soul mates—right under their noses—but I still envied them.

Stop it, said my conscience. This is not about you.

I sat up taller. “Okay, you guys. I’ve heard only the basics, and now I want all the juicy proposal details. Don’t leave anything out. Go.”

For the next hour, Frannie and Chloe told their engagement stories as we polished off the first bottle of wine and then a second. I heard all about how Mack got down on one knee and popped the question while they were in front of Chateau d’Ussé, the French castle that had inspired Sleeping Beauty and that Frannie had always dreamed about visiting.

“God, I love that story.” April sighed. “I’d love to visit that part of France.”

“So go,” I told her.

“I can’t. The wedding schedule here is bananas. We’re completely booked up next spring and summer already.”

“There’s no one who can fill in for you?” Chloe asked. “Why don’t we find someone? Really, you could use the help, even if it’s just part time.”

April took another sip of wine. “I might be too much of a control freak. And what if we couldn’t find someone who’s good enough? Or what if we hire her and I book a trip and she doesn’t work out?”

“We can at least try, right?” Frannie asked.

“I agree,” I said.

April looked at me in surprise. “The workaholic agrees I should take a vacation?”

“Yes.” I spun my wine glass around by the stem, feeling heat in my face. “I do. Being a workaholic is no fun, and I’m going to get better about it. In fact, that’s why I came home early.”

Frannie put a hand over my wrist. “I’m so glad you did.”

I smiled at her, then looked at April. “If I can take a vacation, you can.”

“I guess,” April said, although she didn’t look convinced.

“Jeez, have a little faith.” Chloe nudged her on the shoulder. “I know a lot of people. Give me some time to reach out.”

“Okay, okay.” April held up her hands in surrender. “Let’s not talk about me anymore. Tell Meg about your engagement.”

From there, Chloe told the story of Oliver’s proposal on the barn roof, the same roof they’d jumped off when they were eleven, resulting in one broken leg (Chloe), one broken collarbone (Oliver), and years of getting each other back. But their chemistry had always been fierce and insuppressible. She’d once told me the sex was as volatile as their fights used to be, and I believed her.

Brooks and I never fought.

Suddenly everyone was staring at me, and I realized I’d said it out loud. “Oh, sorry. That probably sounded totally random. But I was just thinking about how different certain relationships are, from start to finish.”

“I don’t want to pry if it’s painful, but I am curious.” April tilted her head. “What happened with Brooks? Mom mentioned you guys broke it off.”

I tipped up the last of my wine and Frannie moved her glass toward me. It was still half-full. “Here. You can have mine. I have to drive home tonight.”

“Thanks.” I stared at it as I went on. “There’s not much to tell, really. I’m sitting here listening to you two talk about these amazing, romantic, heart-pounding moments and realizing that Brooks and I were actually really boring.”

“Boring how?” April asked. “Like in bed?”

“I guess, but it was more than that.”

“Can you talk about it?” pressed Frannie.

“I guess,” I said glumly. “You guys have any Twinkies?”

My sisters burst out laughing, and Frannie reached for her bag. “Oh, I forgot! It’s not Twinkies but I did bring you guys some macarons from the shop. I’ve got lavender, pistachio, and Fruity Pebbles.”

“Fruity Pebbles?” I asked, perking up. That sounded right up my alley. “Like the cereal?”

Frannie set a robin’s egg blue box with a clear plastic lid on the table, full of violet and green and pink pastries. “Yes. It was Millie’s idea. They’re pretty good, actually.”

We eagerly dug in, moaning with delight at the sweet almond meringues and delectable fillings. I had to admit they were much better than Twinkies.

“Go on, Meg,” urged Frannie. “You were talking about what happened with Brooks.”

“Well, when we first met, he seemed so smart and successful and sophisticated. And he was very handsome and definitely interested in me. I was flattered. Then as we got to know each other, we discovered all these similar beliefs and habits and long-term goals. We just made sense on every level. So we signed a lease together and started to plan for the future.”

Chloe wrinkled her nose. “That’s not very sexy.”

“No, it really wasn’t. I mean, we had sex, at least in the beginning, but it was never at the heart of the relationship. It was never the most exciting thing about us. And eventually, it fell by the wayside.”

“You fell out of love?” Frannie asked, as if such a thing had never occurred to her.

I took a sip before going on. “I guess. Although maybe we didn’t really love each other. At least not enough.” Brooks’s words came back to me . . . We didn’t love each other enough to fight for it. “I want someone who will fight for me, you know? Someone who won’t give up on me so fast. Someone who will choose me over anyone or anything else, even if it’s not the easy choice.”

Chloe reached across the table and put her hand over mine. “You deserve that. So don’t stop believing it can happen.”

Frannie put her hand on top of Chloe’s. “Absolutely. I never thought Mack would look twice at me, let alone fall in love with me enough to get married again. But I never gave up hope.”

April reached over and added her hand to the stack. “I have no words of wisdom because I haven’t been able to figure my shit out either. But I want a piece of all this positive energy. This is good stuff.”

I laughed. “Thanks, you guys. Sometimes it’s hard to believe what I’m looking for—whatever it is—is out there. I’m thirty-three already”—thirty-five-year-old April cleared her throat, and I looked at her sympathetically—“and I feel like I’ve gotten at least close to finding the right person but failed at making it work. But you’re giving me hope. I won’t give up.”

“Good.” Frannie checked her phone and sighed. “I should probably get going. Mack will worry if I’m out too late. He’s overprotective.”

“Awww,” I said. “So sweet.”

“And hot,” April added.

“It is.” Frannie giggled and lowered her voice. “I’m going to wake him up for round two.”