“Oh, don’t you four look beautiful!” Mom exclaims as she bustles into the room. None of us are dressed for the party yet, but we’re all wearing the silky robes Mom had waiting for us when we arrived.

  “Consider them party favors,” she’d said when she led us into the room earlier. “You girls used to love the goodie bags I made for you, so this is like the adult version of those. Although I do still have goodie bags for you later.”

  My friends had giggled like excited children. Even before my family became wealthy, my mom was the queen of goodie bags at parties; I can only imagine what the adult versions will be like.

  “Evelyn, honey, can I steal you away for a minute?” Mom asks now. She was already dressed when we arrived, claiming it was easier to be ready early since she had so many things to oversee. She looks beautiful in a plum-colored dress, with her short brown hair styled in loose waves and held back from her face with sparkly combs.

  Before I leave the room, Stella slips my phone into my hand. She took it when we arrived because I kept checking it for a call or text from Wesley. Her expression tells me Wesley finally responded and I’m not going to like what I see.

  I check the screen as I follow Mom from the room. There’s a text from Wesley, time stamped nearly an hour ago: I hope you’re having a great day, Ev. I’m taking care of a few things and I might be a bit late to the party, but I promise I’ll be there. xo

  “Where are you, Wesley?” I murmur to myself, rereading the message and hoping for some hidden subtext. Or better yet, a new message saying he’s on his way.

  “What was that, honey?” Mom asks.

  “Oh, it’s just…” I push my disappointment aside once again. Mom has put in a lot of effort and care these past few days to show me she heard what I said the other day. That’s what I need to focus on right now. “I just wanted to thank you for all you’ve done so far today.”

  “Of course, sweetheart. The four of you work so hard, you deserve a bit of pampering once in a while.” She ushers me into my old bedroom and closes the door behind us.

  My dress is hanging on the back of the closet door. Mom gets it down and motions for me to take off my robe. As I step into the dress, I catch Mom wringing her hands.

  “Everything okay?” I ask.

  “Oh, yes, fine,” she says quickly. “There’s something minor I wanted to mention to you and I don’t want you to be upset.”

  Having wriggled into my dress, I turn my back so Mom can zip it up. Maybe hearing what she has to say will be easier without looking at her. “Tell me.”

  “Do you remember the other day when I told you I’d invited one of your father’s coworkers with the intention of setting you up?” She pauses long enough for me to make a wary sound of acknowledgement. I don’t like where this is going. “Well, I couldn’t exactly uninvite him, so he’ll be here tonight. I’ll obviously have to introduce the two of you since it’s your party, but I promise I don’t expect anything. Even if Jonathan is a very nice, very handsome, very successful young man.”

  I stifle a laugh. “Mom, it’s okay. Did you specifically tell Jonathan you were hoping to set us up?”

  “Well, no…”

  “Then it’s fine. He probably assumes you invited a bunch of Dad’s associates, especially since you said he’d been here for dinner not that long ago. I’ll meet him, we’ll chat, then I’ll direct him toward the bar or some food or…ooh, or maybe one of the other girls?”

  With my dress zipped, Mom turns me around. Her eyes are bright with that familiar matchmaker glow. “I could see him with someone like our Hollie…”

  We share a conspiratorial smile. Hollie won’t appreciate being set up any more than I do, but if she knew this was a strange sort of bonding moment between Mom and me, I’m certain she’d be willing to take one for the team.

  *****

  After reminding me of her promise that this will be the last big birthday shindig for me, Mom asks for one last party-related favor: to continue the tradition of making a ‘grand entrance’. Despite it being one of my least favorite things—it’s so showy and pretentious—I agree to it for Mom’s sake.

  As I stand at the top of the staircase, the party sounds like it’s in full swing downstairs. Voices and laughter mix with the sound of clinking glasses and soft music from the built-in speakers wired throughout the house.

  I take a deep breath, plaster on a smile, and pray to whoever might be listening that I don’t tumble down the stairs. I scan the room for Wesley, but don’t see him. I don’t know if he’s called or texted because I relinquished my phone to Hollie, who put it in the drawer of my nightstand with the promise that she and the others would capture the events of tonight on their phones and upload them to our shared group folder.

  It’s Hollie I focus on now. She’s standing between Stella and Louisa, her phone aimed at me. Their smiling faces are filled with a blend of amusement and affection, drawing a genuine smile and even a small laugh from me.

  My eyes land on my parents next as I reach the bottom step. Mom rushes forward and envelops me in a tight hug. Normally she’d simply take my hand while aiming an air-kiss in the direction of my cheek. Gotta keep up those pretenses of propriety, after all, and PDA—even aimed at your own child—isn’t common in this crowd. Mom lingers now, though, so I close my eyes and squeeze her back.

  My dad hovers nearby, waiting for his turn. He looks at me with wonder in his eyes, as if he hasn’t seen me dressed to the nines a million times over the last twenty years. Not that I’m complaining; my dad is so busy, it’s rare to get his full attention, and I feel the warmth of it wash over me like the sun on a perfect summer day. “You look beautiful, pumpkin.”

  I laugh at the old nickname as my dad wraps me in an embrace. He had a variety of nicknames for me growing up, but with my love of autumn, ‘pumpkin’ was one that stuck. I haven’t heard it in years.

  I’m soon swept up in a flurry of handshakes, awkward hugs, and air kisses from a variety of strangers and acquaintances. Louisa sneaks by and hands me a glass of prosecco while I’m speaking to one of my dad’s oldest friends. A while later when I’m talking to someone else, I spot Stella motioning a waiter in my direction. He appears by my side a moment later to offer me the delicious-looking canapés on his tray.

  Despite my best efforts, I can’t stop my gaze from roaming the room in search of Wesley. He promised he’d be here, and he’s never broken a promise to me. Still, I need to accept that when he does show up, I might not get the answers I’m hoping for. He doesn’t know I know about his breakup or the interview he had in town yesterday. If things didn’t go well, he might be returning to his life in Ottawa after tonight. A life I always secretly longed to fit into as his partner and lover.

  Tonight feels like my last chance with Wesley. If he doesn’t move back to town, that’s my sign it’s finally time to move on. I’ll always love Wesley, but I need to do everything I can to shift that love to the type I feel for Stella, Hollie, and Louisa. I’ve been blessed beyond measure to have the four of them as my lifelong companions and, while I may not get the type of forever I’d hoped for with Wesley, he and the others will be by my side for the rest of my life.

  With those thoughts in the forefront of my mind, I don’t feel the need to brace myself or grin and bear it when Mom comes over to tell me she’d like to introduce me to Jonathan.

  “Lead the way, Mom.” I suppress a smile at the way her eyes widen in surprise.

  *****

  “You and Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome seemed to hit it off,” Hollie says, sidling up beside me and handing me a fresh glass of prosecco.

  I’ve just spent the last twenty minutes talking to Jonathan, who was so intimidatingly good-looking, I’d been tongue tied for a solid minute before I found my confidence and was able to carry on a conversation with him.

  “We did,” I agree. “He was charming, funny, and well-spoken. He seemed genuinely interested and impressed in my career. I almost always end up wondering what my mother was thinking with her intended set-ups, but Jonathan and I have a lot in common. He’s actually the type of guy I could see myself with.”

  “But?” Hollie says.

  “But what? There’s no but. Why would you think there’s a but?”

  Despite the way Hollie presses her lips together, there’s no hiding the glimmer in her eyes. She plucks the glass from my fingers and lifts it to my eye level. It’s empty. I don’t even remember drinking it.

  “Huh.”

  “Yeah. Maybe we should get you some water.”

  “Probably a good idea. I could use a little break from the crowd anyway.”

  Hollie and I have only made it a few steps toward the kitchen when Louisa rushes over, eyes bright, and cheeks pink.

  “Help! I think I’ve found the man of my dreams.” Lulu is the only person I know who would start a sentence like that with ‘help’.

  “Who is he?” I ask.

  She points toward the bar, where Fergus is chatting with the bartender. The handsome Scot arrived shortly after the party began, hugging me as if we were old friends, and handing me a stunning bouquet of dahlias in an array of autumn colors.

  “The bartender?” Hollie asks.

  “Fergus!” Louisa whisper-yells.

  Hollie and I exchange knowing glances. Looks like I wasn’t the only one who noticed the sparks between Lulu and Fergus on Thanksgiving night.

  “Eleanor asked me to get her some napkins from the bar, and Fergus was there,” Louisa says. “He said something to me and I can’t even remember what it was now, but I know I laughed, and then I hurried away because I’m the world’s most awkward person.”

  At Louisa’s little squeak of embarrassment, Hollie leans in to hug her while I place my hand on her back. Hollie meets my eyes once more over Louisa’s shoulder, and we share a smile; Louisa may be in distress now, but she’ll be laughing about this later. Or maybe not later because she’s already chuckling as she pulls away from Hollie.

  “Why am I like this, you guys?” she asks with a gusty sigh. “I really liked Fergus the other night when we met, and I actually didn’t have too much trouble talking to him. I don’t know what happened just now.”

  “How about we all go talk to him, would that make it easier?” Hollie suggests.

  I eye Louisa, who’s now staring across the room at Fergus. If Stella were here, she’d probably say something about Lulu’s face resembling a heart-eye emoji. Finally, she says, “Yes. Thank you.”

  “You two go ahead and I’ll catch up with you in a bit,” I say. “I need some water to counteract all the prosecco I’ve been drinking.”

  We part ways, agreeing to meet up again soon. The kitchen is bustling with catering staff, so I quickly get myself a glass of water and find a somewhat quiet spot out of the way on the far side of the enormous kitchen. I’m contemplating sneaking upstairs to check my phone when Wesley enters the kitchen.

  The sight of him is more refreshing than the water I’ve been drinking. In the time it takes him to cast his gaze around the room, my eyes sweep over his perfectly tailored dark-blue suit and crimson paisley tie. And of course his beautiful face. There’s a hint of dishevelment about him; his tie is slightly loose around his collar, and his hair is falling forward like he’s been running his fingers through it.

  His eyes finally land on me. If his appearance hadn’t already sucked the air from my lungs, the relieved smile he gives me would take my breath away.

  “Considering you’re the guest of honor, you’re a hard woman to track down.” He crosses the room and gathers me into his arms, holding me close. I nearly experience sensory overload—his warm body against mine, his hands on my back, the familiar scent of his cologne. “Happy birthday, Buttercup. Sorry I’m late.”

  “I’m just glad you’re here.” After a final squeeze, I force myself to release him. “Where were you? Did you get your secret mission all taken care of?”

  He lets out a brief laugh, his expression turning rueful. “I thought I could manage everything from here, but I had to go back to Ottawa last night.”

  “Ottawa?”

  “It’s all taken care of now,” he says, his words coming faster. “I have so much to tell you. Evie, I—”

  “There you are!” Mom’s voice startles me so much, I jump away from Wesley. “Hello, Wesley dear. I was just talking to your mother and she told me what you’ve been up to this week. I’m so glad you made it back in time for the party.”

  Wesley gives Mom a tight smile. “I wouldn’t miss it, Eleanor. I was actually just about to fill Evie in on where I was today.”

  Mom looks between the two of us before her gaze settles on Wesley. Something incomprehensible passes between the two of them, and she nods. “Of course, dear. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait just a little while longer. I need our Evelyn for the cake cutting right now.”

  Wesley opens his mouth as if to object, but snaps it shut again immediately. He knows better than to argue with Eleanor Hathaway.

  Mom’s gaze swings to me. Her expression morphs into one I know all too well. It’s a look that tells me her habit of meddling and matchmaking is one that’s going to die a slow, drawn-out death.

  “You know, I wish the two of you would get together already. Your mother agrees with me, Wesley; in fact, we were just talking about it before you arrived. It was clear from the time you two were children that you were meant to be.” She makes a tutting noise as she shakes her head, looking for all the world like a mother who’s disappointed in her small children for being naughty. “Anyway, Evelyn, I really do need you for the cake cutting.”

  She spins on her impossibly high heels without so much as a wobble, and heads for the door, beckoning for me to follow her.

  I gather all my courage and look at Wesley. He appears as stunned as I feel. We’re both apparently rooted to the spot since neither of us has made any attempt to follow my mother.

  “Wow,” he breathes. “Meant to be. That’s…”

  “I’m so sorry,” I blurt. “She and I have talked about this, but, well, you’ve known her your whole life, you know what she’s like. She promised she’d stay out of my love life from now on, but I have a feeling if I’m not married in another few years, I’ll be dealing with an arranged marriage situation, giving new meaning to the term ‘shotgun wedding’.”

  I expect Wesley to laugh. Maybe crack a joke of his own. What I don’t expect is the way he slowly turns to face me fully, taking both my hands in his. Or the way he gazes into my eyes in a way he never has before. A way that makes my breath catch as butterflies soar to life inside me and perform acrobatics in the vicinity of my heart.

  “She may be meddling, but I can’t fault her for thinking we’re meant to be. I always thought that too.”

  I gape at Wesley. Have the bubbles from the prosecco gone to my head or did I hear him correctly? I don’t have a chance to question it before Elliot bustles into the room and informs me my mother expects me to make an appearance within the next thirty seconds.

  I swallow a string of frustrated curses. Wesley squeezes my hands and then gently lets them drop. My whole body has gone numb, so I’d forgotten he was even holding them.

  “Go,” he says. “We have all night to talk. I’m not going anywhere.”

  In the living room, Mom’s tense smile eases when she sees me, turning into one that shines with affection and pride. My dad stands next to her with his hand on the small of her back, his smile a mirror image of my mom’s. As the assembled crowd sings a rousing rendition of the birthday song, I glance around, my eyes catching on familiar faces before landing on a small grouping of easels holding framed poster boards with pictures of me throughout the years.

  The song ends and Dad steps forward, kissing my cheek before handing me a knife. With the weight of dozens of eyes on me, a hint of embarrassment heats my cheeks as I cut into the cake and then hand the knife off to one of the catering staff, who begins cutting and plating slices of cake with impressive efficiency.

  Reminding myself this will be my last big, impersonal birthday party, I take the glass of prosecco my dad offers me and hold it up, facing the crowd. Every year except for this one, Mom has asked me to make a speech, and every year I’ve refused. I’ve told her it’s bad enough that she trots me out like a trick pony, expecting me to make a grand entrance and cut the cake in front of everyone like a partnerless bride.

  But this year feels different. Mom has made so much effort this week. Even though I’ve never felt like these parties are for me, she still puts a lot of work into them, and I know she’s always meant well even if she has a habit of going about things in the wrong way. When I think of Hollie, whose mother abandoned her nearly twenty years ago, or Lousia, whose sweet, beautiful mom died shortly before that, it reminds me just how lucky I am to have my mom, even if she can be overbearing and meddlesome. She’s always been here, and I’ve never doubted her love for me.

  I clear my throat and swallow a wave of emotion. “Thank you all for being here tonight,” I say, projecting my voice so everyone can hear me. “It means so much that you’re all here to celebrate my birthday with me. I’d especially like to thank my parents for hosting these parties each year.” I turn to Mom and Dad, smiling at their beaming faces as they salute me with their glasses.

  I seek out my friends next, my smile stretching when I see Wesley standing beside Stella with his arm around her shoulders. “And I’d like to thank my four dearest friends for…well, for a lifetime of loving me and being by my side.” I quickly divert my gaze, afraid looking at them will make me cry. “I hope you all enjoy the rest of the party. Cheers.”

  The crowd echoes my ‘cheers’, throwing in a smattering of other well wishes. The voices fade into muddled sounds as my eyes lock on Wesley’s. He lifts his glass in my direction, a smile flirting around the edges of his mouth. I only make it one step in his direction before a hand settles on my arm.