I adore cake. The frosting, the flavors, the design, and all of the options couples have these days from simple and rustic, to elaborate lacework, or even the new geode trend. I simply love cake. If I had to choose just one thing about weddings that I love more than seeing the bride in her gown and the groom’s face when he first sets eyes on her, it would be cake.

I particularly love the idea of helping a bride and groom choose the cake that they’ll serve their guests. In my opinion, it’s one of the most important elements of a wedding. In fact, when it comes to flavors, filling, frosting and cream, I’m an expert. There isn’t a planner in all of New York that knows cake better than I do. So when Jacinta suggests that it should be me accompanying Chase and Claire to their taste testing, I really don’t have another option but to say I do.

Inside? I’m dying. A slow, painful, brutal death because it should have been me in her place. It should be me he feeds tiny bite-sized morsels too.

Chase likes cake as much as I do. The cake was the first thing we picked out as an engaged couple. He wanted a four-tiered, pink champagne cake with white chocolate ganache. I’d suggested the raspberry filling, a little tartness to take the edge off all of the sweetness. We both understood how important this step was, and agreed you couldn’t just serve your guests any old thing. Simple elegance was best.

So when we’re sitting in the office of one of New York’s finest bakers and cake artisans, and Claire suggests the cake she’s wanted all along is a two-tiered red velvet with distressed frosting, I know the exact response Chase is going to have.

“Poppy, you agree with me on this, right?” Chase spears me with a look. This is the first time he’s said a word to me beyond “hi” since the breakup. I don’t really know how I feel about that.

“Um.” I glance back and forth between them and take a sip of my champagne before I dare an answer. “Well, I can certainly see the charm in a naked cake, but I think perhaps for your location wouldn’t it be better to find some neutral ground, like say a white two-tiered cake with some tropical elements. Frangipanis, perhaps?” I turn away because even I have to wrinkle my nose up at that.

Chase’s disbelieving expression says he doesn’t buy it either. “Frangipanis?”

“Right, sorry, I forgot how much you hate those.”

“You hate frangipanis?” Claire stares at her husband-to-be. “Why?”

Chase gives her an incredulous look. “Because they’re tacky.”

“Right,” Claire says with a nod. “Of course.”

Chase’s phone buzzes and he glances at the screen. “Babe, do we really need to spend any more time on this? Poppy knows exactly what I want, don’t you, Poppy?’

How could I forget? It was our dream wedding cake after all. His and mine, not his and Claire’s. “Of course. I’d be happy to take care of it for you.”

“Great. I gotta go meet Leo for lunch. He wants to talk about my bachelor party.”

“Bachelor party?” Claire chokes on her sparkling water. “I thought we agreed we’d just do a group dinner in the Maldives.”

“Relax,” he says, rubbing Claire’s shoulders. I blush and avert my gaze because I remember all too well how good Chase’s back rubs felt. “He wants to do a small thing in Vegas. You know, just us guys?”

“Of course he does,” I mutter under my breath and Chase smirks. He knows I’ve never been a big fan of Leo’s wants and needs.

“Well, I’ll see you tonight?”

“Maybe,” Chase says, nonchalantly. His phone is in his hand again, and he’s furiously typing out a text. I don’t miss that side of him, where it never really feels as if you have his undivided attention. “I have a meeting this afternoon and then I may need to work late.”

“Oh, okay,” Claire says. “Well, call me if you finish early and we’ll have a late dinner.”

“No, don’t wait up, babe. I’ll just see you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Sure.” Claire’s smile dims. Her disappointment is palpable. I know how she feels because I’ve been there before with Chase, too. God, have I been there.

Chase leaves with a goodbye kiss to Claire’s cheek. He points his finger in my direction. “Poppykins, you’re an angel. I know you’ll do the right thing.”

Is he really not giving Claire any say in her own wedding cake? I hadn’t realized how controlling he was about everything. I mean, I guess part of the reason we got on so well was because we liked all the same things, but I’d never really seen this side of him.

I turn my attention back to Claire. “So, you’re good with what he suggested?”

“Oh sure. I mean, I’d thought we were on the same page about the bachelor and bachelorette nights, but that’s okay.”

“No, I meant with the cake.”

She waves it away. “Sure. It’s just a cake, right?”

I stare at the woman as if she’s a stranger. Just cake? Has there ever been such a thing as just cake? Especially when it comes to wedding cake. It’s never just cake. I pick up my glass and gulp down the remainder of my champagne. “Uh-huh.”

“It’s only going to be cut up and eaten, so what does it really matter?” she says. I smile and nod, but the comment makes me want to stab her with my dessert fork. “I guess you have to choose your battles with him, huh?”

I stare down at the napkin in my lap wondering if I should just bite my tongue, but despite how we’ve grown apart these last few months the bonds of friendship and sisterhood prevent me from keeping quiet. “Are you and Chase having problems?”

“What? No. why would we be having problems?”

“I just wondered. Never mind. No reason.”

“I know this might be awkward for you, but we’re fine.”

“It’s not awkward.” Not at all. God, it is the weirdest situation I’ve ever found myself in. I don’t wish either of them anything but happiness, but planning a wedding for your ex-fiancé and your best friend is awkward as hell. I don’t love Chase anymore. At least, I don’t think I do. Sure, my heart skipped a beat when I saw him, but it’s because he’s familiar. He is someone I loved for a long time; a huge portion of my life had been taken up with dreaming of my wedding to Chase. It is strange to be planning that wedding for another woman, but even though I was seriously hurt by the secrecy surrounding their relationship, I still love them both, and wish them well. I just wish I didn’t have to have anything to do with their nuptials. Every time I see an email from Claire in my inbox, it hammers home just how alone I am. And that I’ll likely die alone, like Leo said. My cats will eat me when they grow hungry enough and no one will really care. I mean, people will attend my funeral, and say, “How sad that she died all alone and her cats made a meal out of her,” but I doubt that anyone’s life will be seriously hindered by the fact that I am no longer in it. What a sad way to live.

“Poppy?” Claire says, pulling me from my reverie.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I said maybe we should go to Vegas, too?”

“Vegas?”

“Leo and Chase are going.”

“Oh, I can’t . . . I have work.”

“But you have to—you’re my maid of honor. It’s your job to organize the bachelorette party.”

“Right, of course, but I could always organize it from here, and you and the rest of the bridal party could go.”

“I’m not going to a bachelorette party in Vegas without my maid of honor. Please? You’re my best friend.”

And there they were. The five little words that could get any woman to do what her best friend wanted. Please, you’re my best friend. The phrase of guilt. And friend shaming. All my resolve collapses and I give Claire a tight smile. “Of course. I’ll just take a couple of sick days.”

She squeals. “Oh my god, you’re the best. It’s going to be amazing. We need tickets to Magic Mike live, but none of those penis headbands. Chase thinks they’re tacky.”

“Chase is right.” I make a face, but wonder how the hell I’m going to afford all this because of course as the maid of honor it’s going to fall on me to take care of it. Sure, everyone will say they’re chipping in, but will they? Probably not.

I hope there’s hot water in the rooms because my Las Vegas experience is likely to be less Vegasy, and a lot more ramen noodly.