“That one,” I say, pointing to a beautiful mermaid-silhouette wedding gown on one of the mannequins. “That one is totally yours.”

Next to me, Charlie sips the champagne Nina, the wedding consultant, brought us when we arrived for Zoe’s appointment.

“I feel fancy,” Charlie mutters out of the corner of her mouth. “Whenever Duke and I get married, I want only champagne at our wedding.”

“I have a feeling that’ll be sooner rather than later,” Zoe says, sipping her own champagne while we wait for Nina to return with the next round of dresses. “Duke can barely keep his hands off you.”

Charlie flicks back her blond hair with flair. “Do you know something I don’t know?”

Zoe and I exchange looks over our friend’s head. If we knew Morse code, our blinking would probably say something like this:

Do you know anything?

Nope. Do you?

Nada. Dammit, the men don’t tell us anything.

I pat Charlie’s knee. “I bet he’s planning a proposal as we speak. I mean, realistically speaking, you two are definitely the couple who would wake up one morning and decide to go to the courthouse and get hitched.”

Charlie grins into her champagne glass. “You know us so well.”

I don’t know why I do it, because it’s certainly not the time or the place, but I nudge my friend in the arm. In a low voice, I murmur, “I’m sorry, you know. For how I was in college and then . . . everything with Duke when the two of you started dating.”

She blinks back at me. Stunned, maybe? Tossing back the rest of her bubbly, she sets the glass on the table beside her. “Gwen, I forgave you a while ago. What brought this on now?”

Clearly, I’m getting sentimental in my old age.

I motion toward Zoe, who’s standing on the little elevated platform in a dress she described as “eh” but nothing to write home about. If it takes her another forty-eight tries, I know I’d sit here and pound back champagne with Charlie until Zoe found the perfect gown. “I guess I’m just saying thank you—for not writing me off when you could have. For giving me the chance to prove to you that I’m not a total Regina George.”

From the platform, Zoe laughs. “You kinda are a Regina, though.”

“I hate you,” I tell her, knowing she knows what I’m really trying to say: You’re the bestest friends ever, and I love you both to pieces. “I’ve done a lot of soul-searching recently, and I realized . . . sometimes your family are the people you choose.” I think of Charlie, Zoe, Manuel. “I don’t know. Not to be sappy or anything like that, but I love you guys. That’s all.”

Charlie throws a hand to her forehead in a fake swoon. Not to be outdone, Zoe pretends to collapse on the platform, but considering she’s wrapped up in a tight dress, she nearly stumbles and goes down face-first.

Laughter bubbles up within me. My girlfriends are sarcastic and ridiculous and I wouldn’t have them any other way.

“Are we ready for the next round?” Nina asks, coming back into the massive dressing room with an armful of gowns. “I know we’ll have the perfect one in the mix.”

“You need something that’s going to give Beaumont a hard-on the minute he sees you at the end of the aisle,” Charlie announces with a flamboyant wink. She points at her crotch as though to further elaborate her point.

“Really?” I ask, settling back in my seat with my own champagne flute in hand. “I was thinking something romantic. Andre is always trying to make you swoon.”

“Andre Beaumont?” Nina murmurs, and I can tell she’s a Blades fan just by the high pitch of her voice. “Do you all know Marshall Hunt?”

I sit up a little straighter at the mention of Marshall.

Charlie lays a hand on my leg. Down, girl, that hand says. Over the last year, both Zoe and Charlie have learned to deal with puck bunnies galore. Me, on the other hand? I’m brand new at the game and am not enjoying the lick of jealousy weighing down my limbs.

“We do,” Charlie says evenly. “He’s a good friend of ours, as is his girlfriend.”

Her words smooth my ruffled feathers—somewhat.

“Poor girl,” the consultant tells us as she unlaces Zoe from her current dress and sweeps it off to the side. “I hate to be her when she realizes that her boyfriend is about to be kicked off the team. Terrible stuff. The Blades aren’t going to be the same without him.”

What in the world is she talking about?

I yank my phone out of my purse and switch off Airplane Mode. I’d sent Marshall a text earlier in the day to let him know I’d be out with the girls wedding shopping. My leg jiggles with nerves as the internet comes back to life on my phone.

Like a scroll out of a nightmare, text after text after text pops up on the screen.

All from Marshall.

I close them out, hand trembling, as I open the internet browser and type in his name.

Hit ENTER.

Deep breath.

One by one, articles flood the Google search.

Marshall Hunt Discovered in Illegal Fighting Ring in Brockton, MA: What Witnesses Are Saying.

NHL Star Marshall Hunt Caught Dealing Drugs: Will The Boston Blades Cut Him Now?

Uncovered Secrets: Boston Blades Forward Marshall Hunt Nearly Murders Father In Youth

My hand closes over my mouth. “I’m going to be sick.”

Charlie snatches the phone from me, her gaze skimming the headlines. “You need to go to him.”

“I-I . . .” I don’t have any words to say. None at all.

“Ow!” Zoe shrieks, and it’s not until I lift my eyes to her face that I realize she’s trying to distract Nina. “Careful with that pin. I bleed like crazy. Trust me when I say you don’t want this gown turning red.”

“Charlie,” I whisper frantically, “what do I do?”

With a hand to my face, she forces me to look at her. “Do you remember when you were all upset about him turning you down? And Zoe asked if you would give Hunt your kidney if it ever came to pass?”

“Well, yeah. But what does this—”

My best friend taps me on the forehead. “This is the kidney moment, Gwen. Don’t think the worst of him, not yet. Go, listen, be there for him.”

She’s right. She’s so right.

I stand. “I have to go.”

Charlie gives me a little slap on the ass. “Go get ‘em, girl. Protect what’s yours.”

She’s right, again. Marshall is mine and I’ll be damned if I let someone bring him down. We’ll figure it out. We’ll tackle it together.

I just have to figure out where the hell he is first.