Frannie had never looked happier as my father walked her down the aisle toward Mack, who struggled to keep his composure when he saw her. My composure was a lost cause—I’d held myself together right up until the ceremony, but as soon as the string quartet started, the tears began to flow. Next to me in the second row, Sylvia took my hand and we both blubbered shamelessly as our baby sister glided toward the love of her life. After my dad shook hands with Mack and sat down, April quietly slid onto into chair on my other side.

“Need a tissue?” she whispered. “I brought plenty.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I’m a mess.”

I quieted down during the vows, but when the officiant pronounced them Mr. and Mrs. Declan MacAllister, I burst into tears all over again, clapping and crying at the same time.

In the bathroom, I mopped up my face, reapplied my mascara, and posed for family photos. I could only hope that I didn’t look like a red-nosed reindeer in all of them.

At the reception, I sat at a table with my parents, Brett and Sylvia, April, and Henry DeSantis, the winemaker at Cloverleigh. There were two empty chairs—one for Noah, and one for Henry’s wife. I’d told my mother that Noah was with his family tonight, since his sister had just had a baby, and she seemed to believe the lie. Henry had said his wife had a migraine.

“I’m sorry Renee isn’t feeling well,” my mother said to Henry at dinner.

“Thanks. She’ll definitely be sorry she missed all this, but she’s . . . she hasn’t been herself lately.” He seemed embarrassed by what he’d said and quickly dropped his attention to his plate of prime rib, and April and I exchanged a look. She shrugged slightly, which told me that she wasn’t sure what he meant.

“Well, tell her we missed her.” My mother smiled at Henry. “And we need to have the two of you over for dinner again soon. It’s been ages, hasn’t it?”

Henry, a tall and lanky guy who looked like he might have been a cowboy in an old Hollywood western, reached for his bourbon on the rocks and took a sip. “Actually, Daphne, Renee moved out. She and I are separated.”

My mother’s jaw fell open, her cheeks coloring, and I knew she was mortified that she’d brought Renee up. “Oh. Oh my goodness, I had no idea. I’m—I’m sorry, Henry.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t say anything because—well, with the wedding and everything, I didn’t want to put a damper on anyone’s mood.” He looked around the table, clearly uncomfortable. “Sorry to break it to you here at your happy family occasion.”

“The timing is my fault,” my mother said. “No need for you to apologize at all.”

After dinner, Sylvia and I went to the ladies room together, and she asked me if I knew what happened.

“No clue,” I said, digging though my bag for my lipstick. “But what the heck is in the water these days? Can no relationship survive?”

She sighed. “I don’t know. I hope so.”

“How are things with Brett?” I asked, reapplying the crimson lip color I hoped would brighten up my face.

“Fine, I guess. He’s not saying much. Checking his phone a lot.” She held up her wrist, where a diamond bracelet glittered. “He gave me this to apologize for being late.”

“Pretty.”

“Yes. It is.” She dropped her arm. “But I’d have been fine with a sincere I’m sorry and a hug.”

I stuck my lipstick back in my bag. “I wish I had words of wisdom for you, Syl. But I’m barely keeping it together tonight.” Our eyes met in the mirror and I struggled to keep mine from misting over.

“No word from him?” she asked.

“Nope.” I looked at my bloodshot eyes. “Hard to believe we managed to destroy a nearly twenty-year friendship in just a few days, but we did.”

She rubbed my arm. “Maybe once some time goes by, you can repair it.”

“Maybe.” But my feelings were so hurt, it was hard to imagine I’d ever be able to talk to him again the way we used to. He hadn’t even seemed like the same person by the end of our argument.

We went back to our table, where I picked at a piece of cake, drank hot tea with lemon, and watched happy couples on the dance floor. The hours dragged, but I didn’t feel like I could cut out early. I had to keep reminding myself that this day was bigger than my disappointment. I still had a great job, good friends in DC, and if Frannie and Chloe could find love, then I could too. I would find a new place to live, stop saying yes to everything, and enjoy my down time more. I’d get back to working out regularly and maybe even pick up a new hobby or find a new cause to support. That always got me fired up.

I’d get that vibrator too.

I checked the time again—almost eleven-thirty. I’d promised myself I’d stay until midnight, which was when the band stopped.

“Meg. Is that Noah?” April nudged me with her elbow.

My stomach flipped. “Where?”

“Over there by the door.”

I looked over at the entrance to the barn, and sure enough, it was him. “Oh my God. What’s he doing here?”

“Go find out,” she whispered.

I rose to my feet and began walking toward him, one hand on my stomach, which felt like it was on spin cycle. My heels suddenly felt two inches higher, and I wobbled on them, feeling completely off balance.

He watched me approach, his expression serious and his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He looked gorgeous and rugged in jeans, boots, and a cuffed-up army-green shirt, his chest straining against the buttons.

You should have been here with me, I thought. You should be wearing a suit and sitting in that empty chair next to me and refusing to dance every time I ask you. You should be here making me laugh and teasing me for my tears at the ceremony and looking so good I can’t keep my hands off you. We should be together.

But when I finally got close enough to say something, I couldn’t find it in my heart to get angry at him—not because he didn’t deserve it, but because I was emotionally wrung out.

“What are you doing here?” I asked quietly.

“God, Meg. You look . . .” He struggled for words.

“Upset?” I suggested.

He shook his head. “I was trying to come up with a better word than beautiful. But it’s all I can think of when I look at you.”

“Thank you,” I replied tightly.

“Is there somewhere private we can go to talk?” He glanced over my shoulder at the crowded dance floor.

Did I want to be alone with him? I had to think about it.

“Please,” he said, seeing my hesitation. “I need to say something to you, and I can’t think with all the noise and people around.”

“Fine. Follow me.” I led the way, heading past the bar, down a back hallway to a storage room. It was fairly empty since all the tables, linens, and many of the other decorative props we had for weddings were in use. I snapped on the light, and Noah shut the door behind him. The music and conversational hum from the reception softened.

“Thanks,” he said.

I crossed my arms. “What do you want to say?”

He swallowed and nodded. Readjusted his cap. Fidgeted. “Meg, I’m sorry,” he finally blurted. “I feel like shit about what happened.”