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Poppy shakes her head. “No, it’s not like that. It’s like, the person who catches the bouquet. You know? Like…” She reaches over, pokes me in the stomach. “You’re next.”

“I know I don’t need to explain sex ed to you,” I deadpan, glancing at her then looking back at the party, hoping she can’t see how much this is affecting me. I need to be here for her, thinking of her. Not ruminating on my own heartbreak. “But I can’t exactly spontaneously get pregnant, Poppy. I do need a hand of help with that.”

“Psht.” She waggles her fingers. “You’re going to find him. Like, real soon. I can feel it in the air.”

Poppy could also “feel it in the air” that something was wrong with Jeremy and me. For someone in the legal profession, she really does operate a lot based on “vibes” and “feelings.” A long time before I broke things off with Jeremy, she’d been asking me if I was truly happy in the relationship.

“You’re thinking about him again!” Poppy sits up and waves her hand in front of my face like she can bring me out of a trance. “Stop thinking about him! You’re moving on, Cami. You’re so moving on.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I clear my throat, turn to her and surface a little. “I so am. And you should be out there having a good time at your party.”

I say it just as Poppy’s mother appears in front of us, her face soft as she gazes down at her daughter. It makes me smile, to know her mom is just as excited about becoming a grandmother as Poppy is about becoming a mother.

“Thank goodness, Cami, you found my daughter,” she says, reaching an arm out to her. “Come on—you can sit, don’t worry. We’re just going to do gifts.”

I nearly let out a sigh of relief that the games and interactive baby stuff are over, but catch myself at the last second. I don’t want to seem like a spoilsport at my best friend’s baby shower.

And Poppy is right. I shouldn’t be thinking about Jeremy right now, especially considering that I’m the reason our relationship fell apart. Or, rather, I’m the one who sat him down on the sofa and told him it wasn’t working between us.

“What do you mean?” He’d looked so genuinely confused that I wanted to vacuum it all back up, stuff it back inside myself like I’d never gathered the courage to say it at all.

On paper, Jeremy was perfect. A stable accounting job in a company known for internal promotions. A solid 401k, great dental hygiene, the sweet habit of kissing me on the head every night before we fell asleep. Jeremy was the kind of man who always asked me about my day, opened the door for me, reminded me to take an umbrella when I hadn’t checked the weather.

He wanted two and a half kids, like me. Wanted to grow old reading nonfiction books while I moved through cozy mysteries. We’d already thought about our matching armchairs and where we might retire after the kids went off to college.

But that was exactly the problem. I felt like I knew exactly where my life was going. It felt like I knew precisely what was going to happen to me.

Almost like there was no point in living the life if it was already mapped out for me.

And even though Jeremy was always so gentle and careful with me, his hand on the small of my back, his fingers lacing between mine at the movie theater, I never felt a spark with him. Never felt like there was a fire in my belly, or a shiver traveling up the length of my spine.

Nothing like what Poppy described with her husband, Curtis. They met and got married so quickly her mom was dubious, but then she saw the way Curtis looked at Poppy. Like she was the moon. Like he couldn’t bear to leave the room if she was in it.

Jeremy never looked at me like that.

When I finally found the courage to tell my friends how I felt, Poppy was the only one who told me it was okay to expect more out of life. To want a passionate love on top of a great man, a wonderful father.

Now, nearly six months after breaking off my engagement, I’m starting to think I made the wrong choice. That maybe it would have been better to settle after all, if it could have meant avoiding this.

The last of us to get married. The last of us to have kids.

And maybe even the only girl in the group who ruined her chance at a good future just because the one she had didn’t look perfect at the time.

“Hey, Poppy said you’re spiraling.” I look up and find Layla and Brette standing over me, knowing looks on their faces. This time, Brette is holding Tristan, no doubt missing her own little ones at home. “And she said we need to make you come watch her open presents.”

I force a smile and take Layla’s hand as she helps me up and out of the chair. The other girls might have questioned if leaving Jeremy was a good idea back then, but they’ve been nothing but supportive since I went through with it.

“Right. No spiraling at her baby shower,” I say, smoothing down my dress and following them to the other side of the room.

“No spiraling at all, hopefully,” Layla says with a smile, looping her arm through mine, and I smile back at her, knowing that’s probably not going to happen for me anytime soon.

We sit and watch Poppy open her gifts, and when she gets to mine, I feel my face go red, everyone turning to look.

“Cami, this is so…”

“How thoughtful!”

“Homemade gifts are always the best…”