“Um . . .” Emily chewed on her bottom lip. “Monday afternoon.”

“Monday?!” My response was practically a shriek. “That was four days ago!” I dropped her hand and sat back in the booth. “Were you planning on telling anyone?” It was inconvenient that I was so happy, because I really wanted to be mad at her for keeping this news from me. From all of us.

“Of course!” Emily looked chastened. “We were going to tell y’all tonight, actually. We . . . well . . .” She looked up at Simon, and they did that thing that couples do: communicating without words, just via facial expressions and a raised eyebrow. They looked married already.

“We were hoping we could ask the both of you for a huge favor.” Simon cleared his throat, and Emily picked up on his train of thought.

“We want it to be a small wedding, and my big sister April is going to be my matron of honor. But Stacey, you’ve been my best friend since practically the day I moved here to Willow Creek. Would you be my other bridesmaid?”

“Of course!” I clapped my hands over my mouth, and tears shone in her eyes as our joy fed off each other. “Oh, Em, I couldn’t be happier! This is going to be so great!”

“And. Um.” Simon cleared his throat again and looked out into the bar, then up toward the ceiling, and then finally back to where Mitch and I sat across from him in the booth. “Well, as you know, Mitch, I don’t have a brother anymore . . .” His voice faltered, and Emily covered his hand with one of hers, threading their fingers together. Her touch seemed to give him strength, although his smile had thinned. “So I wanted to ask if you would stand up with me as best man at our wedding.”

Mitch’s eyes were round. “Dude. Are you kidding?” That was all he said at first, and in the silence that followed, Simon deflated a little.

“No. I mean, I wasn’t kidding. But . . .”

“Dude.” He extended his hand again, but instead of a closed fist for a fist bump, it was open. Simon took it and the men shook hands, Mitch placing his second hand over their joined ones. “Of course I will,” he finally said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “It would be my absolute honor.”

The two men smiled at each other, and I wished I could travel back in time to our high school days. Mitch had always been a larger-than-life blond jock type, a look that he played to great effect now every summer with his kilt and his claymore. Simon was the intellectual, smaller and slender, with dark hair and sharp eyes. He was a quiet, steady man who let his pirate side come out to play during Faire, transforming into a black-leather-clad rogue with a brash and outgoing demeanor that he never showed in real life. In high school, those two hadn’t been friends. If I could tell teenage Simon and Mitch that they’d be having this conversation now, that they’d be sharing a beer and talking about one serving as the other’s groomsman . . . well. Neither one of them would have believed me, and neither would have younger Stacey in her varsity cheerleader’s uniform, big blonde ponytail bouncing down to her shoulders.

I twirled a lock of my hair—still blonde, but not in a ponytail—around my fingers and turned my attention back to Emily. “So,” I said, “have you set a date yet? Next summer, maybe? We could do it at the Faire.”

Emily’s eyes brightened. “Yes!”

But Simon shook his head. “No.”

She looked at him, a surprised laugh bubbling out of her mouth. “No? I figured a Faire-themed wedding was a given. You don’t want . . . ?”

His head shake was even more emphatic. “No. I don’t want to marry you in character. This isn’t a joke. It’s not . . .”

“Hey.” She laid her hand over his. “No. It’s not a joke.”

“And it doesn’t have to be in character,” Mitch said.

“Right.” I picked up on his train of thought. “We can skip the costumes. But the chess field would be a great place to set up a wedding. Out in the woods, it would be all . . . I dunno, pretty. Picturesque.” I waved a hand; I wasn’t great with words.

“Pastoral,” Mitch supplied, and three pairs of wide eyes turned in his direction. He shrugged and took another swig of beer. “What, I have a vocabulary.”

“Apparently.” A smile played around Simon’s mouth, but he tipped his bottle toward Mitch in a kind of salute. “You do make a good point. And we were thinking about an outdoor venue.”

“Not to mention, this one would be free,” Emily said. “Free is good. Bookstore managers aren’t exactly millionaires.”

Simon’s nod was solemn. “Neither are English teachers.”

“But I’m marrying you anyway.” She kissed him, and her smile transferred to his face.

“Yeah!” I was getting into the idea now. “It can be in the evening. That way we could start setting it up after the last chess match. Have the reception while the sun’s going down. It would be so pretty.”

“Except for the mosquitos.” Simon raised his eyebrows.

I waved a hand. “That’s what those little citronella tiki torches are for.”

“And you should get married on Sunday night,” Mitch said. “That way we can party longer and not have to do Faire hungover.”

“Priorities.” Emily snorted. “I’ll take that into consideration.”

“Let me know what I can do to help,” I said.

“Well, now that you mention it, how about brunch on Sunday? April’s coming. I’m thinking waffles, mimosas, a silly number of wedding dress pictures?”

I had to laugh at that. “You have a Pinterest board already, don’t you?”

“Guilty.” But her grin said she felt anything but guilty. And who could blame her? I’d probably be just as excited if I were getting married.

The subject changed then, as we talked about the upcoming school year (Simon and Mitch both taught at Willow Creek High, so that was a popular topic), and other local gossip (we lived in a small town; gossip was what we did). But every once in a while, Emily moved her hand and light flashed off the diamond. Every once in a while, Simon looked down at her with a smile in his eyes. And every time, my heart overflowed with love for the two of them, which made total sense. Who wasn’t happy for their friends when they found love?

But what didn’t make sense was the thought that flashed through my mind—I’m gonna miss her. There was no reason for a thread of panic to grip my heart and make it race. Emily was right there, at the table across from me. She wasn’t going anywhere. In fact, by marrying Simon she was settling down in Willow Creek for good. There wouldn’t be any reason to miss her.

But my heart still raced all the way home until I pulled into my driveway, the same driveway I’d been pulling into since the day I got my driver’s license. My parents lived in a four-bedroom, two-story house that was way too big for the three of us. Well, the two of them, now that I didn’t live with them anymore. Technically.

My little apartment was a cozy nest. It ran the length and width of the two-car garage it was built over, with a small kitchen tucked in one corner and an enclosed three-quarter bathroom (no bubble baths for this girl) in another. My clothes lived in two freestanding wardrobes, and my queen-size bed was tucked in the eaves. I’d strung fairy lights on the wall that sloped above my bed, and their soft glow made it feel like I was sleeping inside a blanket fort. A pair of skylights in the kitchen area let in lots of natural light, and when it rained I loved falling asleep to the patter of the rain on the glass.

It was a great little place, and it was mine. I loved it. I told myself that a lot, and most of the time I even believed it.

I’d barely closed the door behind me and tossed my keys into the little dish by the door when my phone rang. Not my cell phone, which was silent in my bag, but the old-school landline attached to the wall in the kitchen. It didn’t have caller ID, but I knew who it was. There was only one person in my life who had the number.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hi, honey, I heard your car. Did you have dinner? We just finished eating, but I can fix you a plate.”

“No. No, I’m fine. I ate when I was out.” I slid my little leather backpack off my shoulders, the buttery blue leather bag I’d bought just as Faire had ended—I hadn’t been kidding about the retail therapy—and dropped it onto my kitchen table. “I’m kind of tired; it’s been a long day. I think I’ll watch a little TV and turn in.”

See? Semi-independence. Mom didn’t call every night, but often enough to remind me that in some ways—in most ways—I still lived at home. I loved my parents, but it was getting old. Hell, I was getting old. I was almost twenty-seven, for God’s sake.

That feeling of getting older without really being allowed to grow up lingered, and that feeling combined with the sight of Emily’s engagement ring. I’m gonna miss her. Now that stray thought made sense. Getting married, becoming a wife. And what was I doing? Going out to Jackson’s every Friday night and posting the same selfies on Instagram.

I needed to get a life.

I needed another glass of wine.