Sunset In Central Park. Sarah Morgan

there’s always something.”

      “Thank you.”

      “For what?”

      “For making me laugh instead of cry. You’re the best.”

      “Yeah, well, you can return the favor by handling this situation.” Frankie saw Paige hand Robyn another tissue. “He’s dumped her, hasn’t he?”

      “You don’t know that. It could be anything. Or nothing. Maybe she has dust in her eye.”

      Frankie glanced at her friend in disbelief. “Next you’ll be telling me you still believe in Santa and the tooth fairy.”

      “And the Easter bunny.” Composed again, Eva whipped a tiny mirror from her purse and checked her makeup. “Don’t ever forget the Easter bunny.”

      “What’s it like living on Planet Eva?”

      “It’s lovely. And don’t you dare contaminate my little world with your cynical views. A moment ago you were talking about Mr. Right.”

      “That was to stop you from crying. I don’t understand why people put themselves through this when they could just stab themselves through the heart with a kitchen knife and be done with it.”

      Eva shuddered. “You’ve been reading too much horror. Why don’t you read romance instead?”

      “I’d rather stab myself through the heart with a kitchen knife.” And it felt as if she’d done just that. She was looking at Robyn Rose, but she was remembering her mother, incoherent with grief on the kitchen floor while her father, white-faced, had stepped over her heaving body and walked out the door, leaving Frankie to clean up his mess.

      She stared straight ahead and then felt Eva slide her arm through hers.

      “One day, probably when you least expect it, you’re going to fall in love.”

      It was a remark typical of Eva.

      “That’s never going to happen.” Knowing that her friend was emotionally vulnerable, Frankie tried to be gentle. “Romance has the same effect on me as garlic does on vampires. And besides, I love being single. Don’t give me that pitying look. It’s my choice, not a sentence. It’s not a state that I’m in until something better comes along. Don’t feel sorry for me. I love my life.”

      “Don’t you want someone to snuggle up to at night?”

      “No. This way I never have to fight for the duvet, I can sleep diagonally across the bed and I can read until four in the morning.”

      “A book can’t take the place of a man!”

      “I disagree. A book can give you most things a relationship can. It can make you laugh, it can make you cry, it can transport you to different worlds and teach you things. You can even take it out to dinner. And if it bores you, you can move on. Which is pretty much what happens in real life.” Unlike her father, her mother had never married again. Instead, she burned through men as if they were disposable.

      “You’re going to make me cry again. What about intimacy? A book can’t know you.”

      “I can live without that part.” She didn’t want people to know her. She’d moved away from the small island where she’d grown up for precisely that reason—people had known too much. Every intimate, deeply embarrassing detail of her private life had been public knowledge.

      Paige walked back to them. “The phone call was the groom.” Her voice was crisp and businesslike. “He called it off.”

      Eva made a distressed sound. “Oh no! That’s dreadful for her.”

      “Maybe it isn’t.” Despite the fact she’d already guessed what had happened, Frankie’s stomach churned. “Maybe she had a lucky escape.”

      “How can you say that?”

      “Because sooner or later he’d cheat on her and break her heart. Might as well be now before they have kids and a hundred and one Dalmatian puppies and innocent bystanders are injured in the fallout.” Not wanting to admit how gutted she was to have been proved right yet again, Frankie leaned forward and removed the Queen Anne’s lace from the pitcher.

      “A hundred and one puppies of any breed would put pressure on a marriage, Frankie,” Eva said.

      “And not all men cheat.” Paige checked the time on her phone, and the diamond on her finger caught the sunlight and glinted.

      Seeing it, Frankie felt a flash of guilt.

      She should keep her mouth shut. Eva loved dreaming and Paige was newly engaged. She needed to keep her thoughts on marriage to herself.

      “It will be different for you and Jake,” she mumbled. “You’re one of those rare couples that are perfect together. Ignore me. I’m sorry.”

      “Don’t be.” Paige waved her hand and the diamond glinted again. “You and I don’t want the same thing, and that’s fine.”

      “I’m a killjoy.”

      “You’re the child of divorced parents. And it wasn’t a happy divorce. We all have a different perspective on life, depending on our own experience.”

      “I know I overreact, though. It wasn’t even my divorce.”

      Paige shrugged. “But you lived through the fallout. It would be crazy to think that wouldn’t affect you. It’s like washing a red sock with a white shirt. Everything ends up tainted.”

      Frankie gave a half smile. “Am I the white shirt in that analogy? Because I’m not sure I’m white-shirt material.”

      Eva studied her. “I agree. I’d say you were more of a combat jacket.”

      “Robyn has gone upstairs to fix her makeup.” Paige steered the conversation back to work. “The guests will be arriving any minute. I’m going to talk to them.”

      “We’re canceling?”

      “No. We’re going ahead, but now it’s not a bridal shower—it’s a party. A celebration of friendship.”

      Frankie relaxed slightly. Friendship she could cope with. “Nice. How did you pull that one off?”

      “I pointed out that friends are there for the bad times as well as the good. They were invited to share the good, but if they’re true friends they’ll be right there by her side for the bad.”

      “And bad times are always improved by champagne, sunshine and strawberries,” Eva said. “Here she comes.”

      Frankie reached for the next pitcher of flowers and Paige put her hand out to stop her.

      “Those are beautiful. What are you doing?”

      “The flowers are supposed to match the mood of the occasion, and these are too bridal.”

      Without waiting for Paige’s approval, Frankie tossed the bridal Queen Anne’s lace into the border and watched as the flowers hit the dirt.

      She tried not to think of it as symbolic.

      The three friends arrived home an hour or so before the sun was due to set.

      Sweaty, irritable and miserably unsettled by the events of the day, Frankie searched in her purse for her keys.

      “If I don’t get inside in the next five seconds I’m going to melt right here.”

      Paige paused by the front door. “Despite everything, it went well.”

      “He dumped her,” Eva murmured, and Paige frowned.

      “I know. I was talking about the event. That went well. We should celebrate. Jake’s coming over. Why don’t we all meet up on the roof terrace for a drink?”

      Frankie didn’t feel like celebrating. “Not tonight. I have a date with a good book.” She