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“How many times are you going to watch that?”

I looked up from my phone, eyes flashing to my dad over at the stove.

Lee was thoughtfully stirring a pot of his famous chicken-and-rice soup.

“What?” I shrugged as if I had no idea what he was talking about.

“I’m just scrolling.”

“More like trolling ,” my other dad commented from across the kitchen.

Per usual, Harry was wearing his favorite pair of Warby Parkers and sitting with his MacBook at our long oak table, reading and revising contracts for his various property listings.

“Your father’s right, Madeline,” Lee said.

“Watching the same video over and over is more akin to trolling, not scrolling.” He paused to comically narrow his eyes.

“You haven’t posted something snarky, have you?”

“No, Da.” I smiled and shook my head.

Lee was “Da,” because my older brother, Austin, hadn’t been able to say the full dad when he was little, and by the time he’d finally grasped it, Harry had been holding him.

A clear sign, apparently, that Harry was meant to be “Dad” and Lee was officially “Da.”

The Fisher-Michaels family rolled with it.

My comment on the aforementioned Instagram Reel had been a short and sweet emoji combination: a starry-eyed smiley face followed by confetti and a popping champagne bottle.

It was nothing compared to the seemingly endless stream of comments that kept the online celebration raging.

@amber.kovac: Wowweeee!

! Congrats!! 3

Triple fire emojis from @heelyj .

What’s the hashtag? asked @nate_the_great .

IM NOT CRYING , my thirteen-year-old cousin had written.

@mfoxw said, The Married Club has jackets!

And from one of Austin’s best friends: Way to ruin things for the rest of us, man…

Or, in other words: Major congratulations, but did you really need to set the bar so high?

Two days ago, my brother had proposed to his girlfriend.

And not only did he propose, but he proposed in freaking Paris .

He and Katie and her family had spent two weeks there for some relative’s wedding, and on their last day…

My parents groaned when I replayed the video.

Paris was gorgeous in the winter.

Someone’s drone had captured the city—the Eiffel Tower, the Musée d’Orsay, and other elegant limestone buildings dusted with snow.

Even in the new year, Christmas markets still bustled and people sipped hot chocolate while ice skating.

A classic piano riff had been edited in as background music, and we were soon treated to a sweeping shot of the Seine before the camera cut to Katie wandering along the river.

Her long blond hair had been curled to beach-wave perfection and she wore a timeless white peacoat.

Her choice of high-heeled boots was proof that she didn’t exactly have serious plans to go on a walk.

“She had to have known!” I exclaimed to no dad in particular.

“She totally knew!” they exclaimed back for the millionth time.

And then there, at a turn in the stone pathway, was my brother on a bridge adorned with greenery and twinkle lights.

His unkempt brown hair refused to stay combed back, but he looked so handsome with his dimpled grin.

Katie ran—or tottered, in those shoes—toward him.

The piano still played, so you couldn’t hear any words exchanged, but ten heartbeats after Austin had gotten down on one knee, he was back on his feet and spinning Katie around as they kissed.

And they lived happily ever after!

anyone would think.

The video ended, but the scene did not—pictures had later been posted of Katie’s parents and grandparents and random relatives at a fancy restaurant with the happy couple.

They were all laughing and smiling while raising glasses of bubbly.

Objectively, it looked like a fairy-tale engagement.

But subjectively, it sucked that my family hadn’t been a part of it.

We knew—I mean, of course we knew that it was on the horizon.

My brother and his girlfriend had been together five years, and Austin had even come home a couple months ago to ask our parents for advice on how to approach Katie’s father for his blessing.

(I may or may not have been eavesdropping from the top of the staircase.)

Like I said, we knew it was coming.

Paris, though? That was a blindside.

“Wasn’t it his plan to propose in the pasture?” Dad said after we’d originally watched the Reel.

“Didn’t he say he wanted it to be a meaningful place?”

Da and I hadn’t responded.

Congratulations! I’d texted Austin later, even though I was kind of pissed at him for not telling us.

It was his moment, not mine.

Get ready for a huge-ass hug when you get home!

!!

“I’m going for a walk,” I said suddenly, dragging myself up from my spot on the warm kitchen floor.

Its radiant heating was forever too tempting to ignore.

I loved stretching out on the tile like a starfish and letting my eyes drift shut, especially in the early mornings before school.

Arthur and Francine, our two black Newfoundlands, were currently passed out.

Francine snored loudly while Arthur twitched, probably in the middle of a dream.

“Alright.” Da nodded as he taste tested the soup.

He adjusted one of the stovetop’s knobs, a signal that dinner was almost ready.

A pang of hunger hit me.

Over at the table, Dad’s laptop chimed.

“Austin messaged they’ll be here in ten. Make it a mission, Mads. Not a meander.”

“Roger that.” I dug in the fridge for some carrots and then caught an apple Da tossed me from the fruit bowl.

My brother and Katie had gotten home yesterday and were coming for dinner tonight.

They lived forty-five minutes away in Philadelphia; Austin was halfway through his third year of dental school at the University of Pennsylvania.

He’d always liked working with his hands and found teeth strangely fascinating, but I never let him forget he was going to someday star in a bunch of children’s nightmares.

He always retaliated by tickling and teasing me about all the times I’d dreamt about my orthodontist taking a hammer to my teeth.

Despite myself, I smiled at the memory as I pulled on my rusty red-orange-and-black-plaid wool coat and favorite Carhartt beanie.

Austin, he was the best. Not only the best brother or my best friend—just the best .

And it felt like I hadn’t seen him in forever.

I’m going to tackle him , I decided, the mudroom door slamming behind me.

When he gets out of the car, I’m going to tackle him into the snow.

I could already hear us laughing.

***

My family and I lived on twenty acres near the Delaware River in Pennsylvania.

Our farmhouse had been built in 1774, and while there had certainly been a couple renovations, it still stood tall centuries later.

It was white with two brick chimneys, black shutters, a bright red front door, and a wide porch that overlooked the front lawn (that I had more or less turned into a field hockey practice field), the horses’ rolling pasture, and beyond that, a small pond.

Ducks flocked there in the springtime, and when it froze in the winter, Austin and I skated on it until our cheeks and toes went numb from the cold.

It was frozen now. After a busy Jingle Bells season with our backyard Christmas tree farm, pine and spruce trees planted everywhere, we’d rung in the new year several days ago with a snowstorm.

Da had plowed and salted our long driveway enough to come and go, but it was still caked with ice and snow.

I tucked my tingling nose into my scarf as I trudged through the snowy dunes, our front barn growing larger with each step.

Dad was a Realtor and had the shortest commute ever; he and his partners had gutted and converted the barn into their office space after starting their own firm.

THE CHEVAL COLLECTIVE, the snow-frosted masthead over the door read.

Cheval was French for horse .

Because years ago, horses had been Dad’s life.

He’d grown up riding and competing, and in his twenties, had been a three-day eventer on the U.S.

Equestrian Team. “And then I really wrecked my back and needed serious surgery…” was how he finished when telling the story at dinner parties.

“But it ended up being a total win,” Da would chime in, “because if he hadn’t needed that operation, he wouldn’t have met me!”

Da was technically Dr. Lee Fisher, orthopedic spine surgeon.

He’d done such a fantastic job on Dad’s back that he could still ride casually these days.

We had three horses.

Tally-Ho, our chestnut mare, crossed the paddock when I leaned against the split-rail fence.

“Looking good, Tal,” I said as she nuzzled me, toasty in her tartan blanket.

She knew I had treats.

I fed Tally an apple, and when Chip and Chop wandered over, I gave them the carrots.

While they munched, I stared out at the pasture and imagined Austin here four summers ago with Katie.

He was twenty, she’d been twenty-one.

My brother had taken her horseback riding the first time she’d come to our house.

Dad and I’d watched from the porch as Austin expertly saddled up Chip for Katie, and when she hadn’t been able to mount the palomino herself, he’d put both hands on her waist and swept her up into the saddle.

“You think that’s a move ?” I’d asked, sipping a glass of Da’s homemade lemonade.

It hadn’t looked like Katie had even tried.

I really thought Austin would’ve proposed to Katie right here, not in Paris .

It was so professional-athlete-proposing-to-his-supermodel-girlfriend, so Bachelor Nation and reality TV, so not my brother.

He was easygoing and low-key.

And, I mean, Katie was obsessed with the horses.

She was always dragging Austin out of the house and over here for visits.

I was pretty sure she liked them more than she liked me .

Which is fair , I thought, rubbing Tally’s muzzle, because I like the horses more than I like Katie.

Tally snorted as if I’d confessed that aloud.

“Oh, shit, I don’t mean it,” I breathed, my spine straightening.

“Of course, I don’t mean it! She’s Katie… She’s nice… She’s smart… She’s…?” I floundered in front of the horse, who was definitely giving me a capital- L look.

I sighed. “Austin loves—”

Someone laying on their car horn made me drop off; I whipped around to face the house, just in time to catch my brother bursting out of his blue Mazda.

“MADELINE FISHER-MICHAELS!” he called.

“WHERE IS MY HUGE-ASS CONGRATULATORY HUG?”

***

We rarely ate in the farmhouse’s formal dining room, but tonight was a different story.

Tonight, we were celebrating.

Earlier I’d set five place settings with Nana’s wedding china and silver.

“This is interesting,” Katie remarked as Austin pulled back her chair for her.

She gestured at her plate, white with a thick teal band decorated with silver flowers.

The soup bowls matched perfectly.

Totally retro. “Very…” She searched for another adjective as she sat down, Austin squeezing her shoulders before taking his own seat.

“Interesting,” she repeated.

“Thank you,” Dad said.

“They were my mother’s, and apparently quite fashionable at the time.” He smirked.

“She wanted them out of her sight the second her divorce was finalized.”

Austin laughed.

Thanks to our congratulatory hug-turned-snowy-wrestling-match, he was wearing an old gray sweatshirt and faded pajama bottoms while his wet clothes took a spin in the dryer.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he said.

“Didn’t she leave them outside your apartment one day?”

Dad nodded.

“The note said, For Lee’s dinners, because you’re marrying him .”

“And here we are.” Da smiled and shook his head, then gestured to the food.

Soup and salad with warm crusty bread.

“Let’s dish up!”

It wasn’t until dessert that Austin and Katie’s engagement was mentioned.

Austin spoke about France all throughout dinner, and I admit, he made me want to visit someday.

It sounded extraordinary.

Even our parents exchanged a look and simultaneously said, “Anniversary trip?”

“How about a family vacation ?” I suggested.

“I wouldn’t mind checking it out myself.”

“The wedding was gigantic,” Austin added.

“Three hundred people.”

“It was actually two-fifty.” Katie took a sip of water.

Her cousin had gotten married in a palatial chateau right outside Paris.

“Everything about it was magical.”

“Really?” Dad asked.

“How so?”

“Oh…well…” Katie began, and I resisted the urge to tilt my head back and sigh.

Katie—to use her word, she was interesting .

I wished I could just stamp her as shy , but she was more complex than that.

Reserved, maybe? Removed?

It felt like whenever you talked to her, you were traveling on a road that led to nowhere.

I’d once mentioned to Austin that instead of working in marketing, Katie should consider a career as an audiobook narrator, or start a podcast on the side.

“Really?” He’d looked bemused.

“What genre are we talking?”

“Bedtime stories,” I replied.

“She could lull any insomniac to sleep.”

“Because of her soft, dulcet tones?” my brother asked.

“Uh-huh,” I lied, knowing he was serious.

He was head-over-heels for her.

He couldn’t hear that she spoke with an invisible ellipsis…

after ellipsis…after ellipsis…

Meanwhile, when I’d made that joke to Dad, he’d nodded.

“She should. That dispassionate, detached voice of hers could be a real moneymaker.”

I was being harsh, I know.

But I just didn’t get it.

There was something—or many somethings—about Katie that Austin loved.

Why couldn’t I see them?

It wasn’t as if I hadn’t been trying.

Honestly, I was grateful when Dad volunteered me to help clear the table.

Katie was musing about each and every cocktail hour hors d’oeuvre.

“The silver doesn’t go in the dishwasher, right?” I asked.

“Hand-wash only?”

“Yes, hand-wash only,” he answered from our tiny wine cellar.

“Even though she claims the opposite, your grandmother still cares deeply for that silver.” He emerged through the cellar’s stone archway, holding a bottle of Katie’s favorite prosecco.

“We’ll clean up later, though.” He nodded toward the mudroom, and I caught his drift to grab the raspberry cheesecake from the garage fridge.

It was time.

Da made the toast, officially congratulating Austin and Katie on their engagement.

My brother couldn’t stop sneaking peeks at Katie, and with her champagne flute raised, I assessed the unfamiliar diamond sparkling on her manicured finger.

Emphasis on unfamiliar , because Austin had chosen to buy Katie a ring rather than propose with the beautiful engagement ring Da’s mother had given my brother before she died—a round ruby flanked by two small diamonds.

It was unconventional, sure, but it stole my heart every time I saw it.

“For the future Mrs. Fisher-Michaels,” I remembered Grandma telling sixteen-year-old Austin.

But apparently the family heirloom wasn’t Katie’s style, and my brother didn’t want to propose to her with something she wouldn’t like.

There’s no way he could afford that himself , I thought now as I looked at Katie’s skating-rink ring.

The singular diamond was so big.

No way in hell.

My guess was the ring had not only been from Austin, but also from our parents.

Knowing Dad, the jeweler’s receipt was probably flagged in his inbox to reference when negotiating a payment plan with my brother.

Even though I was irked, I couldn’t ignore the flicker of warmth in my heart.

Austin and I were beyond lucky to have parents who loved and supported us so fiercely.

“Do you have any initial ideas?” Da asked while we devoured our cheesecake.

Little Sunflower Bakery in town never missed the mark.

“Created a Pinterest board yet?”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Da, come on, even I have a wedding Pinterest board!”

“Yes.” Katie put down her fork.

“My mother and I have a few thoughts.”

“Christmastime,” Austin said.

“This Christmas.”

Visions of sugarplums suddenly danced in my head when I word-vomited: “Like, Christmas -Christmas?”

My brother shook his head while Katie simply wiped her mouth with her napkin.

“Early or mid-December in Princeton. Right, Kates?”

Katie had grown up across the river in New Jersey, and it was also where she and my brother met.

While on Thanksgiving break in college, Austin and his high school friends had used fake IDs to hit up the bars in Princeton, and apparently after striking out left and right, he’d “triumphed” at Triumph Brewery by charming Katie.

After Thanksgiving, they spent the rest of the vacation hanging out before returning to their schools, committed to long distance.

It was only in the last year that Katie had moved in with Austin in Philly.

Before that, she’d been at business school in Chicago.

“Princeton sounds lovely.” Da smiled.

“Your engagement celebration in Paris also looked beautiful, although based on the Instagram comments alone, I know you have so many people in your life who would’ve loved to be a part of it.”

Nicely done, Da , I thought as I sliced myself a second piece of cheesecake.

“So,” he continued smoothly, “Harry and I”—he reached for Dad’s hand—“would be honored to host an engagement party here, for more family and friends.”

“Oh, wow,” Katie said.

“That’s really kind of you.” She turned to Austin.

“We should talk to my parents—”

“What’s there to talk about?” My brother grinned and kissed her, then turned to our dads.

“Thank you! You guys are the best!”

“We are.” Dad nodded stoically.

“It can sometimes be a heavy burden to bear, but indeed.” He squeezed Da’s hand.

“We are the best.”

“You are, really,” Katie said after a moment, but I could tell by her smile she didn’t actually mean it.

“What number did you have in mind for the guest list?”

***

“Hey, can I talk to you a sec?” Austin asked, joining me at the sink while I was hard at work doing the dishes.

His cheeks were still pink and the tips of his ears red from the cold.

Katie had wanted to visit the horses.

“Sure.” I dried off a silver dessert fork.

“What’s up?”

“The wedding,” he said.

“Is already off?” I joked.

“Did Tally talk you out of it?”

Austin elbowed me.

“Mads.”

“Why did you propose in Paris?!” I blurted.

Why Paris and not here?

“Because I thought it would be special,” Austin said.

“Yeah, the City of Love sounds cliché, but it truly is a magical place.” A dreamy expression crossed his face.

“It was perfect that her whole family was there.”

But yours wasn’t , I thought.

Our family wasn’t there.

I forced myself to bite my tongue, but maybe Austin could read my mind, because the kitchen was quiet until he eventually prompted: “The wedding…?”

“Right.” I put down the clean fork and picked up a dirty soupspoon.

“I’m listening.”

He cleared his throat, like he was nervous or something.

“So, I know we didn’t mention it at dinner, but Katie and I talked about the wedding party on the plane the other day. You know, who should be in it and stuff.”

My pulse quickened.

Oh, god, the wedding party…

“Katie’s sister is going to be her maid of honor.”

I nodded, unsurprised.

“And your best man?”

Austin smiled, and I wondered if he was about to say my name.

“Be my best man someday?” he’d asked after I’d given a speech at his high school graduation dinner, a speech I had worked on for two months.

“No one knows me like you do, Mads.”

But this time, Austin said, “Nate the great.”

Something in me deflated a bit, even though Nate was our favorite cousin.

“Oh, awesome!” I recovered quickly.

“How hyped is he?”

“Totally off the charts.” Austin chuckled, then tried to cough away the weird awkwardness in the air.

“I also, um, wanted to let you know that Katie has a couple really close cousins, and I can’t even count her friends, so…” He grimaced.

“I don’t think you’re going to be a bridesmaid, Mads. Even though it’s apparently tradition for the bride to ask the groom’s sister, she’s not going to ask you.”

I took a breath, a sudden spike in my pulse.

I don’t think you’re going to be a bridesmaid, Mads.

She’s not going to ask you.

Would it be awful of me to admit I was relieved?

“I’m sorry,” Austin said as I exhaled and my blood flow returned to normal.

“We don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I thought maybe you could do a reading?” He smiled.

“Or give another legendary speech?”

“Definitely!” I chirped.

Relax, Mads , the voice in my head warned.

Don’t sound too cheerful.

“Really?” My brother brightened.

“You understand?”

“Austin, of course!” I snapped my wet dish towel at him.

“Isn’t being a bridesmaid a major commitment, anyway? There are a ton of events before the wedding?” I shook my head.

“I don’t have time for any of that, no offense. I’m a junior this year—I need to keep my high honor roll streak going and get recruited for field hockey.”

“True,” he said, then ruffled my hair.

“You’re such a good juggler, though. School, sports, social life…”

I wanted to laugh.

Excuse me, what social life?

“Everything will work out, Mads.”

“Well, I did learn some tips and tricks from the master.” I grinned at him.

But instead of smiling back, Austin pulled me into a bone-crushing hug and whispered: “I’m so proud of you.”