“Fireworks spark when you do other activities,” Averly points out.
“You know what I think?” Abbie, my other best friend, says.
“Don’t,” I warn.
“Well, it’s true. You’re still hung up on him.”
“Easton?” Averly and Poppy say at the same time.
This is a four-way conversation nightmare. “It’s not like that,” I defend with a huff as I walk down the snow-piled sidewalk on my way to the grocery store.
“I think it is,” Averly points out.
“You need to move on,” Poppy’s soft voice rings through.
“I have,” I state.
“No need for the ‘tude,” Abbie replies.
“‘Tude?” I lift my eyebrows even though I’m alone.
“Ugh, it’s Sienna and her teenage lingo’s fault,” she says about her youngest sister.
“Anyway, I am over Easton. I have been for a long time. He moved, and I stayed. I couldn’t expect us to actually make our relationship work when we were young and lived miles apart.”
“But…” Poppy says and then stops herself. “You’re right. You’re over him.”
I want to yell at the top of my lungs that I am, even if she’s pretending to placate me.
I knew at seventeen, and I know now at thirty-one, the odds were against Easton Locke and me. Screw forever. No such thing exists in this world. No matter how many barns you carve your names on or how badly you want them to work.
“I gotta go, guys.” I try to cut the conversation short.
“Wait!” Poppy calls out. “Are you still coming over today?”
I sigh. “Yeah, I’ll be there.” I won’t miss helping her plan her wedding. Poppy is marrying Harris next month, and we’ve been a part of the journey since she got engaged. We wouldn’t do it any other way. It’s always been the four of us, through breakups, gossip, celebrations…you name it, we’ve been there for each other.
“I have to grab a few things at the grocery store, and I’ll be ready to head over by five. I’ll take a bottle of wine.”
“Yes!” Averly calls out. “Sorry, but I’m having an evening to myself, and Mason hasn’t breastfed since he turned one, so this momma can drink.” Averly has the cutest baby boy.
I chuckle and open the door to the grocery store. “I’ll grab two bottles then,” I say with a grin. I may get defensive when they bring up Easton, but my friends are like sisters. I can’t hold anything against them for too long. After all, they’re only looking out for me.
If I’m being honest with myself, a part of me always held on to Easton, despite not seeing him in so many years. When he first moved, his family came for the holidays, but after that first year, they stopped coming. Life got hectic, and social media wasn’t a thing like it is nowadays, which I’m grateful for because it would’ve killed me to see pictures of him with a girlfriend.
Instead, we periodically emailed until they became few and far between. Easton joined the basketball team and became a star, breaking the ice as the new kid in his high school.
And sure, a part of me always questioned what would have been if he had stayed in Everton because back then, I was certain my love for Easton would’ve been eternal. A silly seventeen-year-old belief.
“I’ll see you all later, then,” Poppy says, a shuffling sound coming through the line. “Also, next time I tell you guys I want a big party, remind me I hate party planning,” she adds.
“The best thing I did was run to the courthouse with Eli,” Averly says.
“It always surprised me you did that,” Abbie replies.
“Well, I was knocked-up, and Eli tends to sweep me up in his spontaneity.”
“I think it’s great,” Poppy says.
I listen to my friends talk about husbands and fiancés, and I smile sadly. It’s amazing to live all this by their side, but I get a pang in my heart when I feel like true love seems farther away for me.
After a few more minutes, I end the call, shaking my head how a call about my date last night turned into rehashing the past.
I grab the few things I need from the store, plus three bottles of wine. You can never have too many. Knowing my friends, we’ll go through the three bottles in between fits of giggles, choosing who sits with who at Poppy’s wedding, and random conversations that will pop up throughout the evening.
I may not have luck when it comes to meeting the right guy, but I got lucky as hell when it comes to my friends.
…
“Okay…” Averly hiccups as she laughs wildly. “You’re right. Def…definitely not a…” she gasps for air. “A great catch.” She wipes under her eyes as she continues to cackle.
“I told you! I mean, I know I’m picky, but I don’t want a guy who tries to subtlety pick his teeth.” I drain what’s left of my wine as I finish telling them more details about my date—things I didn’t want to say in public when I was talking to them on the phone.
Abbie covers her mouth as her body shakes with laughter. “That is gross.” She cringes in disgust.
“He was great on paper,” I shrug.
“Well, that’s why you date. To test the water,” Poppy adds. “And thank goodness for that. Imagine if we didn’t get to know someone and had to go straight to marriage.”
“You mean like an arranged marriage?” Averly lifts her eyebrows.
Poppy rolls her eyes. “Yes, Averly, that’s what I mean. But imagine that in our lives. We’re lucky we get to date and break it off if the guy’s not right.” Poppy shivers. “Like,” she leans forward and whispers, “Imagine if I had to marry Patrick right off the bat because ‘he was good on paper.’”
“I’m going to puke,” Averly says, covering her mouth and making a gagging sound. I slap her shoulder and shake my head.
“You definitely got the best end of that stick. Eli is a million percent better than Patrick ever was,” I say, talking about Averly’s high school boyfriend, he who shall be called The Douche.
“Hell yeah,” Averly says. “Definitely won out on that one.” She stares ahead with hearts in her eyes.
“And to think Patrick thought I’d date him after what he did to you,” Poppy scoffs. “As if,” she does her best Clueless impersonation.
We all burst out in giggles, and I stand to refill our wine glasses. We’ve done more chatting than wedding planning. Not that there’s much left to plan. Poppy has had a year to prepare for this, and her wedding is next month. All she has left are a few details. I’m pretty sure today was an excuse to get together and drink wine, as if we didn’t see each other during the week for our book club meetings. I won’t complain, though. Nights like this are my favorite.
Poppy’s phone beeps, interrupting whatever she was going to say. A huge smile covers her face. A second later, Abbie’s phone buzzes, the same smile plastered on her face. To be in love.
“Do you want to go to Clarke’s?” Poppy looks at us.
“Finn messaged me also,” Abbie says.
“But… We haven’t done anything…” I trail off, knowing there’s no argument when I see their faces.