Wesley’s words play on a loop in my mind. Earlier, when he said he wanted to put a pin in our conversation, I was imagining a pin cushion, the kind my grandmother had in her ancient sewing basket. Now I’m imagining a grenade—an emotional grenade, which I know is ridiculous. Wesley’s confession, on top of everything he revealed earlier, feels like he just pulled the pin and there’s no going back. This has the potential to get very messy.

  Adding to the mess? The fact Wesley lives three hours away. And, oh yeah, there’s the minor detail of his maybe-girlfriend. Seeing Wesley again has been incredible, but I can’t help feeling as if this walk down memory lane is littered with emotional grenades and I’m the one who’s going to end up hurt.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  On Friday morning, I get sucked into work and it eats up most of my day. I was initially irritated, considering I was supposed to have the week off, but one of my real estate company’s biggest clients specifically wanted me to work on a time-sensitive—and very lucrative—deal. Let’s just say it was an offer I would have been a fool to refuse, whether I was on holiday or not.

  When I arrive home Friday evening, Stella is on a video chat with a few of her online friends. I wave to her and head down the hall to my room, but she calls me back.

  “Some guy named Elliot dropped this off,” she says, brandishing a purple jewel case. It takes me a minute to put the pieces together; I was in such a daze yesterday afternoon after Wesley left my parents’ place, I’d set the CD down somewhere and completely forgotten about it. I wonder if personal deliveries are usually part of Elliot’s job description.

  I thank Stella as I take the CD, and tell her I’ll be in my room. After a quick shower, I don my pajamas, despite the relatively early hour, and climb into bed with my Discman. Even though Wesley told me to read the CD insert right away, I do what I did the other night: set the case aside, put my earbuds in, and hit play.

  The first three songs surprise me: “I Try” by Macy Gray, “With or Without You” by U2, and “Nothing Compares 2 U” by Sinéad O’Connor. They’re all songs I like, but I can’t attach a special significance to them related to Wesley.

  “Always” by Bon Jovi is next, and it has me sitting up straighter in bed. The next several songs have my mind spinning like a Tilt-a-Whirl. I grab the CD case and scan the list of songs. Other than the first three songs, with their themes of longing and tortured feelings, the rest are undeniably love songs: “Truly Madly Deeply” by Savage Garden, “I Love You Always Forever” by Donna Lewis, “She’s the One” by Robbie Williams, “Inside Out” by Bryan Adams, and on and on.

  When the final song ends, my heart is racing. There’s no real reason for it; I’m just sitting here in bed. I’ve barely moved a muscle in the last hour. My mind is still doing mental gymnastics, trying to rationalize Wesley’s song choices. It could be that they were mostly popular songs when we were growing up; that was the theme of the first CD he gave me, after all. It was full of Spice Girls, Savage Garden, S Club 7, TLC, Aqua, a variety of boy bands, and other singers I’d been obsessed with as a preteen and teen.

  With shaking hands, I finally pry the insert out of the CD case and read Wesley’s note.

  To my Buttercup on her thirty-fifth birthday.

  I could make you a million CDs. Songs we listened to and loved growing up, songs that remind me of you, songs I think you’d like. It was nearly impossible to narrow it down to twenty-two, and I feel like I didn’t begin to do you justice. To do us justice. But here are twenty-two songs to celebrate thirty-five years of one of my favorite people on this big blue and green marble. Thirty-five years of laughter and tears, thirty-five years of ups and downs. Thirty-five years of loving you, Evelyn Simone Hathaway.

  All my love, always,

  Wesley xoxo

  I’m reading it for the third time when there’s a knock on my bedroom door. I panic, not wanting Stella to see me like this. I snatch a tissue from my bedside table and swipe at my face, but there’s no use. I’m a teary, snotty mess.

  “Come in,” I croak.

  The door opens and Stella steps inside, her expression bemused when she sees me in bed. “I was worried you were sick and had gone to bed ear—” Her eyes widen when she notices my futile attempt to stop the flow of tears. “What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

  “I think your brother is in love with me?” The words come out squeaky and wobbly. In the next second, I’m laughing and sobbing at the same time, only vaguely aware of Stella dashing across the room to my bed. “Stella, I think your brother is in love with me.”

  When she doesn’t speak, I blink the tears from my eyes so I can study her expression. “Why don’t you seem surprised? Say something!”

  “I…I don’t…I can’t…” She groans, fisting her hands in my comforter until her knuckles turn white. “I promised him I wouldn’t say anything.”

  “Does this have anything to do with why you two were arguing on Thanksgiving?”

  She nods, her lips pressed tightly together. I squirm on the bed, impatient for an explanation. Finally, she sighs. “You need to talk to Wesley.” I start to protest, but she holds up a hand to cut me off. “This is something he needs to tell you himself, Evie. I’m sorry. Please understand.”

  Her beseeching tone is the only thing stopping me from bombarding her with questions. I always told the McGrath siblings not to put me in the middle, so it would be unfair to put Stella in the middle now. Even though I really, really want to.

  She must sense my capitulation because she picks up my phone from the nightstand and hands it to me. My heart is still pounding out an erratic beat, reverberating through my pulse points. With a shaky finger, I hit Wesley’s number and listen to it ring. And ring. When it goes to voicemail, I hang up and try again with the same results.

  Without a word, Stella slides her phone from her pocket and calls Wesley herself. Unlike me, she leaves a message when she reaches his voicemail. “Wesley James McGrath, stop ignoring my calls and texts. Call me back. Now.”

  Her firm tone shocks me so much, it takes a few beats for me to realize what she said: ‘stop ignoring my calls and texts’. “When was the last time you spoke to him?”

  She sighs. “Last night.”

  We stare at each other in silence for a long moment. I expect she’s waiting for me to ask more questions. When I don’t, she waves a hand toward the Discman in my lap. “Can I listen to the CD? Is it weird that I want to live vicariously and try to forget my own love life is a disaster?”

  I huff out a laugh as I peel back the sheets and pat the bed in invitation. Stella crawls in next to me, inching in close so our sides are pressed together from shoulder to hip. I hand her one of the earbuds, along with the insert from the CD.

  I wouldn’t normally share something so private, but Wesley knows how close Stella and I are, and that we’re currently living together. I’m sure he knew it was inevitable that one or all of our friends would see the message he wrote.

  Stella is silent for so long, I’m sure she’s reading it more than once. Finally, she whispers, “Wow.” Tears glimmer in her eyes, causing my own eyes to refill.

  “Yeah. Wow.” Snippets of my life’s history with Wesley flash through my mind, from the time we were little through our teens and into adulthood. I replay various things he’s said and done, paired with the way I’ve caught him staring at me with what I convinced myself wasn’t longing. “I’m not…reading too much into this, right? Imagining it’s romantic when it’s really just Wesley expressing how much our friendship means to him?”

  “Evie. This is not a ‘you are my best friend and I love you’ type of message,” she says, waving the insert around. “This is…it’s the kind of love a lot of people only ever dream about. The kind you’ve been dreaming about for as long as I can remember.”

  Her words spur me to pick up my phone and dial Wesley’s number again. Still no answer. If Stella’s slightly terrifying voicemail didn’t compel him to call her immediately, there’s no sense in leaving a message of my own.

  Instead, I settle back on my bed, nestling into the pillows and resting my head on Stella’s shoulder. In unison, we insert our earbuds, and I hit play to restart the CD.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The morning of my birthday dawns bright and clear.

  I’m thirty-five today. Thirty-five. My life hasn’t been what I thought it would be in many ways, but it’s better than I ever could have imagined in plenty of others.

  There’s a light knocking on my door, followed by Stella peeking her head into my room. I’m still half asleep, but seeing her makes the last couple of days come rushing back to me. Wesley. All the confusing, seemingly loaded things he said on Thursday. The love songs he curated and the things he wrote in the CD insert.

  “Good morning, birthday girl!” Stella runs into my room and takes a flying leap onto my bed. I laugh as the bed shakes and bounces, and then flop back as she throws her arms around me and snuggles close.

  “How are you feeling?” she asks, leaning her head against my shoulder.

  “About turning thirty-five? Or about the fact I’m in love with your brother and just discovered he’s had feelings for me for almost as long as I’ve loved him?”

  Stella is silent for a moment. “All of the above?”

  A slightly crazed-sounding giggle spills out of my mouth and ends on a sigh. “I’ll let you know once I’m caffeinated.”

  “We can help with that.” The bedroom door opens further and Hollie steps through, carrying a take-out tray of cardboard cups with a bakery bag on top. The heavenly scent of coffee and chocolate reaches my nose and makes my mouth water.

  “Happy birthday, Evie,” Louisa says, squeezing past Hollie to enter the room. She grins when she sees Stella and me cuddled together in bed.

  “Why didn’t you mention they were here?” I ask Stella.

  She shrugs, pushing herself into a seated position. “I wanted birthday snuggles.”

  “Are we camping out in here?” Hollie asks, lifting the tray in her hands.

  “As tempting as that is, let me go brush my teeth so I don’t kill you all with my morning breath, and then I’ll meet you in the living room.”

  While I’m in the bathroom, I make myself somewhat presentable since I’m sure at least one cell phone camera will be aimed at me this morning. We’re a group who like to document occasions, from the mundane to the monumental. The chatter in the living room dies as I approach, and Louisa nudges Hollie, who quickly fumbles with a lighter. The three of them rise as one, with Hollie in the middle holding a plate with a cupcake that has a candle in the center.

  My eyes burn with tears as they sing ‘Happy Birthday’. When the song comes to an end, I hold up a finger for them to wait. Their laughter trails after me as I run to my bedroom to get my phone from the nightstand. The purple CD case is sitting beside it, so I grab that too.

  “Hurry and blow out the candle before the wax mixes with the frosting,” Stella says as I dash back into the room.

  “Just one sec. Smile!” I take a few quick pictures of them huddled together, their faces glowing in the flickering candle flame. My three best friends. Three pieces of my heart in human form. I spin around, flipping the camera into selfie mode and framing the girls over my shoulder so all four of us are in the shot. I’m sure we’ll take dozens of pictures today, and my mom will likely have a professional photographer discreetly snapping photos at the party tonight, but I already know these will be among my favorites of the day.

  “Candle!” Louisa says, and I surge forward to blow it out, sending a quick wish into the universe that I’ll always feel this loved.

  There’s a flurry of action as breakfast is laid out and seats are taken. I give my phone a quick glance as I move to set it aside. There’s a message from Wesley, sent at exactly midnight last night.

  Happy birthday, Buttercup. I hope you have an amazing day and that thirty-five is your best year yet. I’m sorry for ghosting you, and I promise to explain everything at your party tonight.

  It’s followed by a string of birthday-related emojis, with several colorful hearts and a few kissy faces sprinkled in.

  “Okay, so, Wesley,” Hollie says, thrusting a cardboard cup into my hand. Pumpkin-scented steam rises to meet me. “Details.”

  I set my phone aside and pick up the CD. I hold it against my chest for a moment as I survey Hollie and Louisa’s expectant faces. Even though I let Stella read it and listen to the CD with me last night, part of me feels strange sharing this with them, even though we’ve always shared everything. My inner voice of reason repeats what it said last night: Wesley would likely expect me to share it with my friends.

  Still, I have difficulty relinquishing it into Hollie’s outstretched hand. She settles back on the couch and holds it so both she and Louisa can see it. I watch their faces as their eyes scan the insert. I read it so many times last night, I have it memorized.

  “Wow,” Louisa whispers.

  “That’s all I could say too,” Stella says, handing her a tissue.

  Louisa dabs at her face; she and I have always been the criers in our group. “This is…”

  “The most romantic thing I’ve ever read in my entire life,” Hollie finishes for her.

  My gaze swings to Stella. After we listened to the CD last night, I continued to question Wesley’s true intentions. She claimed I was in denial and she was calling an emergency breakfast meeting for today so the four of us could dissect this together as a group the way we’ve always done with big things in life.

  Stella smiles now, nodding her head slowly. She must see that I don’t need any more convincing. The knowing look in her eyes fills me with a hope I desperately try to tamp down.

  “You need to get Wesley alone as soon as possible and talk to him,” Stella says.

  “You know something we don’t,” Hollie says.

  I should redirect the conversation and stick to the silent promise I made last night not to put Stella in the middle. But today is a new day and there’s a fire burning in my belly. “Something happened at your family Thanksgiving that ticked you off and made things weird between you and Wes. Then suddenly, things were fine again. I promised myself I’d mind my own business, but I know it had something to do with me.”

  Stella twirls a strand of hair around her finger, winding it so tightly, the digit turns white. “I really think you should talk to Wes…”

  “And I will,” I say. “But I need to know what I’m walking into. I heard you telling him to stay away from me on Thanksgiving night.”

  “How did you—? You know what, nevermind.” She releases her hair and waves a dismissive hand. “Fine, I’ll give you the condensed version. Wesley told my parents and me that he and Ashleigh broke up a few weeks ago. He was sparse on the details, despite my parents’ prying. When we were alone later that night, he told me more details, including the fact he was applying for a job here in Bellevue.”

  “What?” The word is a shocked chorus, spoken in unison by Hollie, Louisa, and me.

  Seemingly feeding off the excitement of the moment, Stella’s eyes grow wide and she leans forward in her seat. “I don’t know the details or what happened, but apparently he had an interview with Hugh MacKinnon yesterday at Bellevue Village.”

  “Okay, but that doesn’t explain why you told him to stay away from Evie,” Hollie says, taking the words right out of my mouth.

  The way Stella’s gaze moves to the ceiling and her mouth twists to the side makes me think she’s choosing her words carefully. I squirm in my seat, nearly ready to burst when she finally speaks again.

  “Wesley told me he’s always had feelings for you, Evie,” she says. “He said the timing was never right, but it could be if he moved back to Bellevue. He wanted to talk to you about it on Monday, but I nixed that idea. I told him he needed to be sure he was actually moving to Bellevue first so he wouldn’t get your hopes up for nothing. I also told him he needed to be one hundred percent sure of his feelings for you and that you wouldn’t be a rebound after Ashleigh.”

  My pulse gallops in my ears, and the room spins before my eyes. Wesley really does have feelings for me, and he might be moving back to Bellevue. I might finally get the chance to be with him—something I’ve been waiting and wishing for the past twenty years. But wait… “You said he had an interview with Hugh MacKinnon yesterday?” I ask, and Stella nods. “And he didn’t tell you how it went?”

  Stella’s expression turns rueful. “No. That was why I left him that angry message last night. He ignored all my calls and texts all day yesterday and so far this morning too.”

  I jump up from my chair and grab my phone, jabbing at Wesley’s number. It rings and rings as I pace around the living room. Adrenaline surges through me when I hear a soft click, but it’s only the line switching over to voicemail. I end the call and send him a quick text that simply says: Call me!

  Shoving my disappointment down along with the hope I attempted to quell a moment ago, I slide back into my seat. My friends are watching me with concerned expressions, so I give myself a mental shake and make myself smile. It’s only forced for the span of a few seconds before the others’ answering grins make me smile for real.

  Today is my birthday. My three best girls are here, they brought me breakfast, and they’ll be spending the entire day by my side. I’ve waited this long to figure things out with Wesley; I can handle waiting a bit longer, even though it makes me feel as if I’m crawling out of my own skin.

  I reach for my cupcake and hold it up. “I love you all, and I’m so grateful you’re here. Now, let’s eat.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It’s after five o’clock, and the party is set to start in less than an hour. Stella, Hollie, Louisa, and I are in one of the spare bedrooms at Hathaway Manor, which has been transformed into a salon-like setup for the day. The four of us have been polished, painted, and primped, and are now sitting around, sipping prosecco.