“I’m sure he was more embarrassed than you were.” Blair giggled as she dumped a big bag of barbecue chips into a bowl. “What did he say?”

“Nothing!” I poured two glasses of Pinot Grigio and plunked a few ice cubes into a tumbler for Mariah, who was waiting for us in the den. “What on earth could he say?”

“What did you do to turn him on?”

“I have no idea.” I pulled a pitcher of lemonade from the fridge and poured some into the tumbler. “Chose his outfit? Complimented his eyes? Bent over in front of him?”

Blair munched on a chip. “Those jeans do look amazing on you.”

“You think?” I glanced at my behind, which was where I felt like I carried every single one of the ten pounds I was always trying to lose.

Okay, fifteen.

“Definitely,” she said.

I took out a second bowl and dumped a bag of Skinny Pop in it. “I was still getting over my shock that he invited me up to his room in the first place. It was like my greatest fantasy coming to life. Except that there was a wedding picture of him and Trisha on the dresser.”

Blair looked surprised. “Still?”

I ate some popcorn. “Did I ever tell you, the night they got married, I cried myself to sleep?”

“Aww, really?”

“Yep. I’d been away at college for a year already. I’d finally lost my virginity to some dormitory asshole who vaguely resembled Cole but—it turned out—had none of his kindness or integrity. But anyway, I was nineteen and thought I was over Cole Mitchell once and for all. Then I saw him standing at the front of the church in a black suit, tears in his eyes, watching Trisha walk toward him, and it hit me—I’d never be over him. And he’d never be mine. I stayed as long as I could at the reception, then I came home and bawled my eyes out.”

“You’re killing me.” Blair ate another chip. “How many guys have you dated because they reminded you of Cole?”

“Ugh. Too many.” I shoved more popcorn in my mouth. “And they always turned out to be jerks.”

“Maybe you should date, like, the opposite of him.”

“I’ve done that too,” I said. “Believe me, I’ve put myself out there. I’ve dated plenty of guys. A couple times I even thought I was in love. But deep down, my heart was always secretly, stubbornly loyal to Cole. I keep waiting to feel that way about someone else. Because . . . shouldn’t I? Shouldn’t the guy I’m with be the one who gives me butterflies and makes my heart pound? If not, what’s the point?”

She sighed. “I guess you’re right. I wish he’d open his eyes and see how great you guys could be together.”

“Ha. Do you know how many times I’ve made that wish? On every first star in the sky, every birthday candle I’ve ever blown out, every coin I’ve ever thrown in a fountain.” I ate another handful of popcorn. “But it’s no use. I feel like there’s this . . . Trisha-shaped hole in his life, and I’ll never fit into it.” I glanced at my behind again. “I think my butt’s too big.”

“Oh, Jesus.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t know for sure.” She sipped her wine. “It’s been eight years since Trisha died, right?”

“Nine. She had severe hemorrhaging after a placental abruption while delivering Mariah.” I spoke quietly so the little girl wouldn’t hear me.

“God, that’s so sad.” Blair picked up her wine glass and took a sip. “But nine years is a pretty long time. Think he’s been celibate all those years?”

“No idea. But this is such a small town, and he’s so well-known, being a police officer and all, I feel like there would be rumors if he was sleeping around. I’ve never heard a thing. I think he’s too gentlemanly.”

“Well, we know he’s still capable,” Blair said with a grin. “At least judging by the bulge in his khakis.”

Groaning, I squeezed my eyes shut. “Stop. You know, for a moment, I actually thought he was going to kiss me.”

“Maybe he was. He’s obviously attracted to you, Cheyenne.”

“I don’t know,” I said dubiously. “I mean, why would he want me? He could have anyone.”

Blair crunched loudly on a chip. “Not even going to dignify that with a response.”

We took the snacks and drinks into the den, where we’d already set up the facial mask and mani-pedi stations, and cued up Grease, which I’d gotten permission to show Mariah. While the opening credits played, we covered our faces with a DIY mask made from banana, orange juice and honey. While singing along to “Summer Loving,” I painted Mariah’s toes. While she returned the favor by polishing the fingernails on my right hand, I sipped wine and commiserated with Sandy as she crooned “Hopelessly Devoted to You.” When “Hand Jive” came on, Blair and I both jumped up and danced along.

“Jeez, how many times have you guys seen this?” asked Mariah incredulously.

“A lot,” I said, laughing and out of breath. “It’s addictive. You’ll see.”

By the end of the movie, the snacks were gone, the wine bottle was empty, and Mariah was yawning.

“I’ll walk you home in a minute, okay?” I told her. “See if you can find your flip-flops. They might be under the couch.”

“Okay.”

Blair gave her a hug. “See you soon, sweetie.”

I walked Blair to the front door. “Thanks for coming over.”

“Of course! Thank you for hosting my wild and crazy bachelorette night.” Laughing, she dug her keys from her purse. “Think the guys are still at the pub?”

“Probably. It’s only eleven.”

Blair rolled her eyes. “I know, but those four are like a bunch of old ladies. They talk a big game, but their guys’ nights usually wrap up long before midnight.”

I laughed. “Are Moretti and Beckett bringing dates to the wedding?” In addition to Cole, those were Griffin’s other two closest friends and groomsmen.

“Not that I know of. And if they are, they better tell me, because the wedding is only two weeks away and I have to finalize the seating chart.” She shrugged. “But it’s kind of hard, you know? Unless you’re already dating someone, you can’t really bring them to an out-of-town wedding, especially if you’re in the wedding party.”

“Right.” Griffin and Blair were getting married up at Cloverleigh Farms, which was about three hours north of Bellamy Creek.

“But there will be some single girls there. Maybe one of them will find their soul mate.” She poked my shoulder. “Or maybe you will.”

I sighed. “I’d settle for someone to dance with.”

“Someone with broad shoulders, piercing blue eyes, and a nice big dick?”

“Shhhh!” I glanced behind me, worried Mariah might have wandered out of the den.

“You’ll get that dance, because you’re the maid of honor and he’s the best man. Wedding party dance.”

“That’s not the same as being asked to dance, Blair.”