I feel lighter than air as I make my way down the twin flights of steps to the building’s front door (I have to get that buzzer fixed first thing when places open up again tomorrow morning).

“Whoa,” Luke says after I fling open the heavy metal door. “You look—”

“Like a bride-to-be?” I ask, holding out the three layers—one chiffon, one net, and one nylon—of my full skirt and giving him a playful curtsy.

“I was going to say hot,” Luke says. He triumphantly holds up a Starbucks bag… and a six-pack of Diet Coke for me. “Look what I scored. I only had to walk eleven blocks to find a place that was open on New Year’s Day.”

“Oh, Luke! You remembered!”

Except, of course, it was Chaz who told Luke how much I love Diet Coke in the first place. That’s the only reason Luke bought it for me that day in the village back in France last summer. Because Chaz told him that Diet Coke was the way to my heart.

But that doesn’t mean I’m in love with Chaz, does it?

Of course not! How could I think anything so silly?

My eyes fill with tears. Really, Luke’s the most thoughtful fiancé in the whole world. Also the handsomest, standing there in his Hugo Boss overcoat, with his long dark eyelashes curling so perfectly… and without the help of a Shu Uemura eyelash curler, even. He’d looked so cute when he’d been kneeling there in that exact spot in the slush a half hour ago, so hopeful and nervous. How could I have said anything but yes when he’d proposed?

Not that saying anything but yes had even occurred to me. Well, except for a few seconds, maybe. To punish him for that whole “I don’t know if I see you in my future” thing.

“I just want to let you know that when I look into my future, I see nothing but you.” That’s what Chaz had whispered in my ear at some point during the wedding last night.

Then he’d whispered, “And you’re not even wearing Spanx.”

I shake my head. Why do I keep thinking about Chaz? He wears University of Michigan baseball caps nearly all the time.

In public.

Luke’s face falls. “What?” he asks. “What’d I do? You don’t drink Diet Coke anymore. Is that it? I can get something else. What do you want? Diet Dr Pepper?”

“No!” I try to laugh breezily. Oh God. What’s wrong with me? “Of course I still drink Diet Coke. I’m sorry. Wow, it’s really cold out here. Come in.” I move out of the doorway so he can do just that.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Luke gives me one of those grins that still cause my insides to go weak. He stops in the doorway just long enough to brush my cheek with his lips, letting them linger for a moment in my hair.

“It’s good to be home,” he murmurs before moving past me. “Which is wherever you are. I know that now.”

Oh! How sweet!

And how could Chaz ever accuse Luke of not knowing what he wants? He knows exactly what he wants. Me!

It just took him a little while to realize it. He needed a gentle nudge. In the form of my breaking up with him and moving out of the apartment we were sharing.

“So this is the new place, huh?” Luke is looking around at the somewhat dingy and exceptionally narrow hallway.

“It gets better,” I say.

“No,” Luke says, his tone apologetic. “I like it. It has character.”

It isn’t, I tell myself as I follow Luke, Chaz’s fault. Not really. He’s just never known happiness—true, romantic happiness—as great as what Luke and I share. So of course when he sees it, he looks on it with suspicion. Of course he doubts our chances of success.

But when he sees us together—how happy we are, now that we’re really and truly committed to each other—he’ll change his mind. He’ll come around. He’ll see how wrong he was to say all those horrible things.

And someday Chaz will find a girl—the right girl for him—who’ll make him as happy as I know I make Luke… and he’ll make her as happy as Luke makes me.

And then everything will be all right.

Wait and see. Just wait and see.

“Here we are,” I say when we reach the door to my new apartment, which I fling open. “Home sweet home.”

“It’s great,” Luke says enthusiastically as he follows me inside.

I smile at him. “You don’t have to pretend to like it. I know it’s horrible. But it’s mine. And as soon as I get the time—and some extra money—I’m going to fix it up.”

“No, Lizzie, it really is great.” Luke sets down the Starbucks bag and the Diet Coke and puts his arms around me. “It’s like you. Completely whimsical and totally charming.”

“I hope it’s not like me,” I say with a laugh. “I hope I’m not covered in big blobby rose wallpaper with slopey floors and cracks in my ceiling.”

“You know what I mean,” Luke says, nuzzling my neck. “It’s unique. Like you. It already smells like you. God, I can’t believe how much I missed you. And we were apart for only, what? A week?”

“Is that what you want? A guy who comes running back to you and proposes just because he’s so scared of being alone, he’d rather be with a girl he knows isn’t right for him than be by himself?”

God! Get out of my head, Chaz Pendergast!

“Something like that,” I say. Luke’s nuzzling is getting more serious. Or at least closer to the bateau neckline of my dress.

I jump away and reach for one of the Diet Cokes.

“So who should we call first?” I ask brightly.

“Call?” Luke’s eyes, which tend to have a dreamy look about them even when he’s wide awake, are heavy-lidded with a combination of jet lag and, well… sex. Sexual desire, anyway. “I wasn’t thinking about calling anyone, to tell you the truth. I was actually thinking about trying out that bed I see over there. And I was hoping you’d get out of that dress and join me… ”

“Luke,” I say after I’ve chugged down a mouthful of restorative caffeine and potassium benzoate. “We have to call people and tell them the good news. I mean, we’re engaged.”

“Oh.” Luke looks longingly back at the bed. “I guess. I mean… Yeah. You’re probably right.”

“Here.” I dig into the Starbucks bag and pull out the coffee he’d ordered for himself, along with two muffins. “Drink this. Let’s make a list. We should call your parents, of course.”

“Of course,” Luke says, taking a sip of his coffee.

“And mine. And my sisters. Well, they’ll be at my parents for New Year’s Day brunch with Gran, so we’ll be able to reach them all with one call.” I grab a notepad I’ve left on the tiny yellow kitchen table, while Luke peels off his coat and sinks onto one of the table’s matching yellow chairs. “And I have to call Shari, of course. And you should… you should probably call Chaz.”

Luke has his cell phone out and is punching numbers into it. An overseas number. Too many numbers for him to be calling Chaz.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“I’m calling my parents,” he says. “Like you said to.”

I reach out and close his flip phone.

“Hey,” he says, looking confused. “What’d you do that for?”

“I think you should call Chaz first,” I say. “Don’t you?”

“Chaz?” Luke looks at me as if I’d suggested he mainline heroin and then shoot his mother. “Why would I call Chaz first?”

“Because he’s your best friend,” I say, sliding onto the chair opposite his. “And aren’t you going to ask him to be your best man?”

“I don’t know,” Luke says, still looking confused. He must be much more jet-lagged than I thought. “I guess.”

“He’d be so hurt if you didn’t tell him first,” I say. “You know, he was so kind to me this past week, while you and I were… apart. He helped me move in here and everything. And last night he even went with me to the Higgins-MacDowell wedding.”

Luke looks touched. “He did? That was nice of him. He must be feeling better. You know, after the whole thing with Shari turning out to like girls.”

“Uh,” I say. “Yeah. It was. Nice of him, I mean. That’s why I think you should call him first. And thank him. For being such a good friend. And tell him how much his friendship means to you. I really think he just needs to hear your voice.”