Friends & Forevers Box Set

Prologue

Prologue

Two Months Ago

I love weddings. The emotion, the vows, the optimism, the dress. All of it. I know I’m a total romantic, and about a gazillion marriages end in divorce every year, but I don’t care. When I watch a happy couple show the world their love, tears well in my eyes and my heart expands because in that moment, something utterly magical happens.

What more can I say? I love weddings, pure and simple.

Or at least I did until the thing happened.

Picture this. I’m at a beautiful, emotional, swept-up-in-it-all type of wedding. I’m sitting on an uncomfortably hard wooden pew, the scent in the air a heady mixture of flowers and polished wood. The late-afternoon light filters through the ornate stained glass windows, illuminating the beautiful bride and her handsome groom.

So far, so wonderful.

As I watch the bride, dressed in the most beautiful vintage fifties wedding dress I’ve seen—nipped in at the waist, showing off all her curves to (classy) perfection—her Norse god-like husband-to-be reaches out and takes her hands in his. They gaze at one another, their faces alight with a love so real, I can almost reach out and touch it.

Which I don’t, of course. That would be weird.

Instead, I turn and smile at my boyfriend, my hand over my heart. Andrew glances at me briefly before he returns his attention to the vows.

“Bailey. I love you more than I could ever imagine loving anyone. You are my life, my soul. Reflected in your eyes, I am a better man. Thank you.” Ryan’s voice, a.k.a. the voice of Thor, the Norse god, cracks with emotion, and half the congregation— all the women and probably most of the men, although I bet they would never admit it—reach for their tissues.

I open my clutch and pull out a Kleenex. I dab at my eyes and glance once more at Andrew. Noticing his brows knitted together, I smile, embarrassed. “What Ryan said?” I whisper, my voice trembling. “So, so perfect.”

“Yeah, it was all right, I guess. If you go in for that sort of crap,” Andrew replies, crinkling his nose with distaste.

Crap? What does he mean, crap?

I open my mouth to ask, but now isn’t the time. Bailey has begun her own vows, her voice so heavy with emotion, I’m amazed any of us can make out a single word. I think she’s saying something about Ryan being her best friend, and how he’s helped her become the vermin she is. No, wait. That would be how he’s helped her become the woman she is. Yes, that sounds much more appropriate and wedding-y.

The problem is, I’m so busy trying to work out what’s going on with my boyfriend, I’ve lost all focus on the ceremony unfolding before my eyes. Sure, I know he’s not the most romantic of souls, but even a rugby-playing, one-of-the-guys, rugged type like Andrew can see how much these two love each other, right? I mean, he’s not a freaking robot.

I nudge him in the ribs. “You okay?”

“Yup. Fine.” His words are clipped, and he keeps his eyes trained on the couple at the altar.

And then it hits me. I know what’s going on here! He’s being swept away by the beauty of it all, too, only he wants to appear all manly and stoic. He’s pretending to be grumpy to cover it up. Guys pull dumb stuff like that all the time. I should know; I’ve dated a few.

A few too many, actually.

I lean closer to him and place my hand on his. “I think it’s wonderful. They love each other so much.”

Andrew harrumphs in response.

I pat his hand knowingly. “It’s okay, honey. I know you feel it, too.” I settle back into my seat, prepared once more to be tangled up in the love emanating from the soon-to-be-wed couple, when I notice a girl in the aisle opposite us turn and smile. She’s wearing an eye-catching red dress that leaves little to the imagination. It’s totally inappropriate for a wedding, in my opinion, but she’s rocking it, that’s for sure. I smile back at her and wonder how I know her. Maybe she’s a customer at the Cozy Cottage Café? I’ve worked there for a few years now, and I often see our regulars out and about in the city.

Her face flushes and she looks away.

Weird.

And then it happens again.

“Who’s she?” I whisper to Andrew.

“Who?”

“The girl in the red dress. She keeps smiling at me, and I can’t think who she is.”

“Oh, err . . . Cindy, I think? Or Sandy? Something like that. We met her at that karaoke bar you love so much,” Andrew replies.

“Jojo’s? Really? I don’t remember.” I give his hand another squeeze and return my attention to the wedding.

“—the power invested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the priest exclaims. “You may kiss!”

As Bailey and Ryan do precisely that, the congregation erupts into applause. Swept up in the sheer romance of the moment, I go out on a limb. Not because I’m “there” with Andrew yet exactly, more because, well, we could be. Some day. I put my hand on his arm and whisper, “Who knows? Maybe, one day, we’ll fall in love like them?”

He whips his head in my direction, and I pull back in shock. “We’ll do what?”

Less sure now, I reply, “Fall in love . . .?”

Yeah, I’m persisting with the lunacy. What can I do? I’m committed. I need to follow through. But really, is it such an outrageous idea my boyfriend could fall in love with me?

“Some day?” His brows knit together, almost forming a perfect mono-brow. It’s not a great look, I’ve got to say.

“Well, not now. Obviously ,” I say hastily in a weak attempt to backtrack. “We’ve only been dating for a couple of months. But some day. You know, in the future.” When all he does is gawp at me, those brows of his threatening to meet permanently in the middle, I add, “In the distant future, far, far away, when little green men rule the Earth and we have robots to do the dishes.”

Little green men? Robots? Dishes? What the heck am I talking about?

Saving me from my nervous ramblings, the organ bursts to life as beaming newlyweds Bailey and Ryan begin their happy walk, hand-in-hand back down the aisle. As they make their way past us, I smile and wave—and try to forget how I put myself out there in a thoroughly humiliating way a couple of moments ago.

As I step toward the end of the aisle, I feel Andrew’s hand on my arm, and I turn back to look at him.

“Okay, here’s the thing,” he begins.

He’s going to explain his weirdness from before. Perhaps he’s going to open up to me? Tell me how he feels? Tell me that he too thinks that one day we might fall in love, maybe even get married?

“Ok aaa y,” I lead, doing my best to suppress an expectant smile.

“We’ve had a good ride, right?”

Well. I wasn’t expecting that. Puzzled, I ask, “A good ride?”

“Yeah, you know. You and me, dating. Whatever.”

I smile to myself. Whoever said rugby players were inarticulate thugs clearly hasn’t met Andrew Foster. I place my hand on his big, muscular arm (dating a rugby player has got its benefits, too). “We’re great. And I won’t go mentioning love again. Not for a while, anyway. It was a heat of the moment thing with Bailey and Ryan looking so perfect up there, nothing more.”

“No, what I mean is it was a good ride. You and me, Sophie. We’ve had fun, but . . . it’s over.” He looks down at his shoes.

Wait, what?

I blink at him, trying to work out if he’s saying what I think he’s saying. “It’s over? What’s over?”

“Us. You and me. Sorry about that.” His gaze drops down to his shoes once more, which have evidently become quite fascinating in the last few seconds.

I hit the internal panic button. “You’re breaking up with me?” I say a little too loudly. Several members of the congregation turn their heads to look at me. “You’re-you’re breaking up with me?” I say at a less hysterical, but nonetheless totally freaked-out volume.

Because, seriously? Here?

He shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.”

I shake my head, the neurons in my brain sparking in a million different directions at once.

How?

Why?

What?!!

“You’re breaking up with me at my boss’s wedding ?”

His lips form a grim line. “Yup.”

“But-but why?” I manage, my throat so dry I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to swallow again.

He looks up again and shrugs. “I dunno. It’s not working, I guess. Look, Sophie, I didn’t mean to do this now, you know? But it kinda came up with the thing you said about us falling in love someday.” He pulls a face to show me exactly how distasteful that notion is to him. “I decided I should, you know, rip off the Band-Aid.”

My heart thrashes against my chest as though it’s trying to escape through my ribs. “So, this is it? We’re over?”

He twists his mouth and nods.

Stunned, I turn away from him and gaze blindly around the church as people begin to follow the newlyweds outside. The organ still blares as people around us chat and laugh as though nothing has happened.

My eyes settle on my other boss, Paige. She’s got her arms wrapped around her husband’s arm as they move slowly with the congregation out of the church. She shoots me a happy grin, and I try to smile back. It doesn’t work.

I shuffle closer to the edge of our row and blindly follow everyone outside. Andrew must be behind me, but I don’t look back. Once out of the church, I take a deep, gulping breath as I blink in the brilliant sunshine.

I feel a hot hand on my shoulder and look up. “I guess I’ll, ah, see you ’round, Sophie,” Andrew murmurs.

“Uh” is all I can manage in my zombie-like state.

He turns and begins to weave his way through the guests. I blink then watch him leave until all I can see is the back of his head.

Blindsided . Yup, I know exactly how that word feels now. And it is not a nice feeling.

Sure, Andrew and I have only been dating two months, give or take. I know that’s not a long time in the scheme of things, but for me, well, it’s close to a record. James Chisholm lasted three months and four and a half days back in high school, and me and all my friends were convinced we would be together forever.

Andrew was . . . what was he? My perfect guy? Ah, no. The man I want to spend the rest of my life with? The man I want to grow old with? Definitely not, despite my recent “swept up in the moment,” totally ill-advised comments.

I’m not going to do that again in a hurry.

I guess the best thing about Andrew was he was mine, imperfections and all. And now I’ve got no one, alone at my boss’s wedding, dumped and dazed.

This is so not the way I expected today to go when I woke up this morning. I thought I’d watch my lovely boss marry her Thor-like man, probably shed a tear or two at the sheer romance of the day, have a glass or two of wine, and dance with my boyfriend.

Not get dumped mere moments after the happy couple says, “I do.”

“Hi, Sophie. You look gorgeous today.”

Still in a freshly-dumped fog, I try to focus on who’s talking to me. It’s Cassie, one of the Cozy Cottage Café regulars and one of Bailey’s BFFs. “Hey, Cassie.” I force a bright smile. If it looks even half as unconvincing as it feels, she doesn’t comment.

“Stunning wedding, right? Bailey looks so, so beautiful. I knew she would.”

I look over at the bride. She looks almost luminous in the bright summer afternoon sun. “She does.”

A red dress behind Bailey grabs my attention, and it takes me a few seconds for the scene unfolding in front of me to register. Is that . . . ? Is she with . . .? My brain refuses to comprehend what’s staring me in the face. I scrunch my eyes shut and ping them open again.

“Are you okay?” Cassie’s voice sounds like it’s coming from the other end of a long tunnel.

“I’m fine,” I mumble as I stare, now completely fixated by the scene in front of me.

“No, you’re not.” Cassie must follow my line of vision, because she adds, “Isn’t that the guy you came with?”

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry as I watch Andrew and the girl in the red dress together. Cindy or Sandy. Whatever he said her name is, she’s all over him, simpering and giggling and generally carrying on as though he were her favorite flavor of ice cream.

I blink again, my insides twisting. Unceremoniously dumped and publicly humiliated, all within ten minutes flat.

This has got to be the worst date of my life.