“Maybe it’s not a fairy-tale ending,” Mackenzie said softly. “Maybe it’s real.”
“Ha.” Sabrina raised a champagne glass to her lips. “When reality hits, I give them six months.”
Mackenzie wrapped a hand around her sister’s arm. She squeezed, making Sabrina wish she could take back her words. Mackenzie was a squeezer, a patter, a cheerer-upper. And a very good friend. They’d been apart for too long. Mackenzie was settled in New York City while Sabrina went wherever whim took her.
“You’re so cynical, Breen,” she said, reverting to the family nickname.
Did that mean they were a family again?
Sabrina shrugged. While she might have her doubts about her parents, Mackenzie was as reliable as a rock. The sisters had very different personalities, but they’d turned to each other for comfort after the divorce and had been close ever since, even when separated by thousands of miles.
“Look at the divorce statistics,” Mackenzie continued. “If half of all marriages fail, then Mom and Dad already have their divorce over and done with. This marriage is practically a sure thing.”
Sabrina scoffed. “Your numbers are skewed. I’d definitely double down on that bet.” She’d learned the lingo in Reno, where she’d once worked as a cocktail waitress after a stage magician had fired her for screaming bloody murder during a botched saw trick. “Here I thought logic was your strong suit.”
“This isn’t about logic. You’ve got to have faith.”
“Faith? How?”
Mackenzie gazed past the balcony to their parents. “Look at them. Tell me your heart doesn’t melt.”
Sabrina held the ring box in one hand and sipped champagne from the glass in the other, brooding over the sight of her parents exchanging whispers and kisses after all these years. They were a study in contrasts, much like their daughters. Charlie Bliss was tall and sandy-haired, prone to daydreaming and wild, irresponsible schemes. Nicole was as short, round and stable as Mackenzie, but not as gentle. She could be a bulldozer.
Sabrina truly wished them the best. But whatever faith she had had been left behind years ago, dug deep into the bottom of the backpack she’d lugged between their houses after the divorce.
Six months was generous, she decided. It wouldn’t be too much of a shock if they were arguing on the honeymoon cruise, when Charlie wanted to go para-sailing and Nicole chose to snorkel. Every little thing had once been a battle. The arguments were still familiar.
“Sure, they seem devoted,” Sabrina admitted. A spring breeze whipped up and stole the words “for now…” from her lips. Loose pink rose petals from the swags draped over the balcony railing scattered like confetti. Cream satin ribbons fluttered.
Below, Nicole’s delighted laughter rang out as Charlie removed the jacket of his tux and draped it over her shoulders. He used it to pull her toward his kiss.
Mackenzie sighed. “See that?”
Sabrina nodded, watching. Even her heart had melted…a little. Then the wind came again and she shivered in her whisper-of-silk slip dress. Ever practical and prepared, Mackenzie hooked an arm around Sabrina’s shoulders, sharing her pink cashmere wrap and her body warmth. Mackenzie was a home-and-hearth kind of girl. Sabrina was long and lean, built for running.
She was good at that. But then why was she still clutching the ring box so tightly?
Mackenzie stirred. “Doesn’t it make you think, Breen?”
“Think what?”
“Mom and Dad aren’t afraid to go for it. We shouldn’t be, either.”
Sabrina drew away. “What are you talking about? Love? Marriage? Me? Not on your life!”
Making a tutting noise, Mackenzie pulled off the wrap and arranged it around her sister. Her long hair covered her own shoulders like a cape. It was beautiful—waist-length, thick and wavy, the color of dark chocolate. She’d been wearing it in the same plain style since she was ten. “No, Sabrina. I mean change. Transformation, renewal, starting over—whatever you want to call it. Change would do us both good.”
Sabrina made a face. “It’s my policy to avoid anything that will do me good. And I like my life the way it is.”
Mackenzie’s brows went up. “Do you really?”
“Yes, really.”
“I remember a certain 3:00 a.m. phone call—”
“You swore you wouldn’t use that against me. It was no more than a bad breakup rant. I’d already done the sympathy margarita thing with my girlfriends. I was in the middle of the tearing-up-photos-and-freaking-long-distance stage.”
“Now, Sabrina, you were with the last guy for almost an entire winter. It was more than just another failed relationship. You’re used to those. If you weren’t hurt, you wouldn’t have packed up and flown to Mexico the very next day.”
“I’m used to doing that, too,” Sabrina pointed out.
Mackenzie got a stubborn look on her face. “Just because you’re used to it doesn’t mean you like it. I distinctly remember that before the breakup you were wondering if it wasn’t time to settle down and start a real career.”
Sabrina hesitated. Mackenzie was right. Lately she’d been nagged by the feeling that she’d been a gypsy for long enough—continually moving from city to city, job to job, one boyfriend to the next. All that had gotten her was a lot of experience, an address book full of crossed-out names and a Mr. Wrong in nearly every state.
She was ready for a change—a smart one, this time.
“What about you?” she challenged Mackenzie. “I know you’re the good sister and all, but there’s room for improvement in your life, too. How long have you been in a holding pattern with Mr. Dull? And hasn’t your boss at Regal Foods been promising you a promotion to executive in charge of jawbreakers and Gummi Bears for, I don’t know, forever and a day?”
Mackenzie’s mouth pursed. “You haven’t been keeping up. I was promoted nearly a month ago, when you were jet-skiing in Mazatlan.”
“Uh, wow. That’s fabulous. Congrats, and all that.” Sabrina wondered how her sister stood it, being so steady and reliable all the time. She really ought to offer the family’s heirloom ring to Mackenzie, except that…
“And how is Mr. Dull?” Sabrina asked.
“His name is Jason Dole. He’s—”
“A deep snooze. A dead bore.”
“You’re wrong. He might not be up to your Danger Boy standards, but he’s a good guy.”
Sabrina rolled her eyes. “There’s that word again. Good. The kiss of death.”
“Not for me. We’re alike. We get along.”
“You wouldn’t be talking change if all you wanted was to ‘get along.”’ Ever since the divorce had turned their world upside down, Mackenzie had been resistant to change. She’d lived in the same apartment since college, worked at the same candy company as she slowly worked her way toward a position as the top Tootsie Roll. She had to be as tired of routine as Sabrina was of airports and train stations.
“Look,” she said, nudging Mackenzie toward the railing again. Charlie and Nicole had continued to kiss. Aside from the slight ew factor—this was their middle-aged parents, after all—the couple’s affection was enviable. “Tell me you have that much passion with Jason and I’ll gladly dance at your wedding.” And even surrender the ring.
“I can’t.” The admission came too fast. Mackenzie wasn’t nearly as resistant as Sabrina