Page 17

Seventeen

With Da and Dad in Newport visiting Great-Aunt Penny, it was Austin and Connor who helped me pack the car for the Finger Lakes.

Yesterday my brother had dropped Katie off at Hotel Gallant before coming home to find Connor and me marathoning the latest season of Emily in Paris .

Connor had ended up crashing with the dogs on the couch.

“Hold on there, sis,” Austin said now, as I heaved my full-on I’m-ready-for-Europe-sized suitcase into the trunk (Amanda’s packing list was no joke).

“We need to put the cooler in first; then we’ll play Tetris around it.”

“Smart call,” Connor said.

“I think we should add one more layer of ice, though.” He looked at me, hair still sleep-rumpled.

“Just to top things off?”

“No, let’s wait a little longer.” I shook my head, then glanced down the driveway.

You could see the heat burning off the pavement, but other than that, nothing.

“Marco said he’d be here.”

Today was Friday, and I was in charge of breakfast tomorrow—a.k.a.

, day one of Katie’s bachelorette weekend!

Originally, I’d planned to wake up super early and make a quick run to the grocery store, but then I’d mapped our rental house and found out that the closest supermarket was an unfamiliar half-hour away.

I didn’t want to get up at the crack of dawn, so Austin had dreamt up a solution: Connor and I would go into town to get everything I needed for Saturday’s breakfast spread.

Then I would pack it all into the YETI for the trip.

The final piece of my breakfast would be a couple of quiches Marco had volunteered his mom to bake.

The bridesmaids had loved them so much at the bridal shower that I thought they’d be a nice touch.

He’d promised to deliver them this morning, but there was no sign of the Bumper Car.

Come on, Marco , I thought.

Please hurry.

Because after everything was loaded into the Defender, I had to drive to Princeton to fetch the bride.

You don’t mind, do you?

Amanda had texted me after the car pool assignments had gone live on the Google Doc .

I would drive her myself, but the rest of us need to get there early to decorate…

“Mads, forget about the quiche,” Austin said after a few minutes.

“Kates is expecting you soon. She texted me to ask about your ETA.”

Frustrated with Marco, I took it out on my brother.

“Why didn’t she just stay here last night?” I asked.

“It’s stupid that I need to drive to Princeton to get her.”

Austin kept his cool.

“It was easier for her to spend the night there,” he said.

“There was wedding stuff to go over with her parents—”

“And you didn’t need to be part of that conversation?” I gave him a look.

This didn’t sound like Katie and Austin’s argument over my brother’s say in the wedding had been resolved; it sounded like he’d just accepted that his thoughts didn’t matter.

“No, not really.” He shook his head.

“I don’t have a strong opinion on hairstylists and makeup artists for the bridal suite.”

Connor cringed.

“Dude, I wouldn’t either.”

I sighed, but my ears perked up when I heard the hum of a car.

“I’m sorry I’m late!” Marco basically sprang out of the Bumper Car.

“There was an accident, then a ton of traffic…”

“Wait, you drove up from the shore?” I asked as Connor accepted two white boxes and went to arrange them in the YETI.

“You drove two hours—plus traffic—back here? Just to deliver a couple quiches?”

Marco nodded.

“Yeah.”

Austin whistled, impressed.

“álvarez, that’s commitment.”

“Believe me, I don’t mind,” he said, scratching his neck.

I squinted to see what looked like some type of reddish-purplish blemish.

“It’s only been twelve hours, but the house is about to combust from so many bodies.” He shook his head.

“Everyone’s telling war stories about their internships.”

Oh, right , I realized.

Princeton Week has kicked off in Stone Harbor.

I felt my phone buzz in my pocket—a message from Katie: Why does your location show that you’re still at your house?

I rolled my eyes. Amanda had request-required everyone to sync up on Find My Friends.

I’m leaving in a minute , I texted back.

Is lunch packed? Or should I plan a pit stop at Burger King?

Because, after all, she’d offered to cover lunch.

Katie didn’t know how to drive stick, so I’d be driving the entire six hours to Seneca Lake.

My mother made us sandwiches , she replied.

We also have potato chips, homemade brownies, and San Pellegrino.

Is this all packaged in a picnic basket?

I joked.

Of course , she immediately responded.

With china plates and cloth napkins.

I inwardly laughed a little—Katie and I’d been texting one-on-one more lately, ever since I’d sent her that female spy movie trailer.

A real scheme? she’d responded.

Or is it all a dream?

Connor hefted the YETI into the trunk, and then Austin shoved it to the left so they could get my luggage inside, too.

Meanwhile, Marco was looking at me bemusedly.

“What?” I asked.

He shrugged.

“Nothing.”

“Please tell your mom thank you for the quiches,” I said, sunshine scorching the back of my neck.

“And thank you for being their courier.”

“You’re welcome,” Marco said, then opened his mouth to say more, but Austin cut in between us to shake my shoulders.

“You’re all set,” he said.

“Go grab Kates!”

“And gas,” Connor added.

“You need gas, remember?”

Austin groaned.

“Are you serious?”

Connor’s eyes flashed to mine and held my conspiratorial gaze for a moment before we dissolved into laughter.

“Oh, lighten up,” I told my brother as he rubbed his temples.

“Don’t you know me?”

I never let my gas gauge dip below a quarter of a tank.

Austin tugged my braid by way of a goodbye.

“Drive safely. Stick to the speed limit.”

“I’ll follow the flow of traffic,” I assured him, then braced myself for a football tackle from Connor.

But instead, he wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me gently—still tightly, but also, well, tenderly .

I let myself relax into it, swallowed up by the aroma of Dove soap and laundry detergent mixed with two overly affectionate Newfoundlands as I hugged him back.

He’s a good hugger , I thought.

When he wants to be, he’s a really good hugger.

“I’ll see you in a couple days,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, a couple days,” I whispered, wondering if I was imagining his heart rate hurrying.

“I’ll be back on Monday.” I pulled back, a lump in my throat.

“Have a good weekend with Lauren.”

He nodded, his lips twitching like he couldn’t decide whether to smile or frown—like he didn’t know what to think.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Austin raise an eyebrow.

Interesting… it said.

I turned to Marco. The sun was beating down, but I swear the air grew even thicker with heat.

I folded my arms across my chest, suddenly feeling awkward.

He’s always liked you , Jacob Bluestein’s words echoed in my ear.

Honestly, I doubted it—Marco and I’d barely known each other in high school—but he had become one of my closest friends, so I took a breath and several steps forward to wrap him in a hug, whether he was awaiting one or not.

“Thanks again,” I said, smelling salt water, sand, and sunshine on his skin.

Stone Harbor , I thought, if it were a scent.

All we were missing was that magic midnight air.

I closed my eyes to picture Marco drunkenly dancing under that corner streetlamp.

In hindsight, that night felt like some type of fever dream.

“I hope you live it up this week!”

“It’s safe to say some of us will,” he replied, squeezing me back.

The blood pumping through my veins amplified when he touched his lips to the tip of my ear.

“Don’t let them rile you up,” he whispered.

“Just have fun.”

I distantly heard myself murmur that I’d try to keep my cool.

Although with a line of sweat trickling down my spine, I suspected it wouldn’t be so simple.

***

Driving Miss Katie.

What could I say about driving Miss Katie?

Of course, the in-person conversation was never scintillating, but I knew I had to shoot for some small talk before I proposed a playlist, podcast, or audiobook.

“Are you excited?” was my riveting opening line once we were on the road (which took a hot minute, because Katie had two suitcases and a trio of tote bags).

She grimaced when we popped over a pothole.

“Would you mind keeping both hands on the wheel?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” I repositioned my hands at ten and two.

Driving the Defender was second nature to me, so I usually just drove with my left hand while my right played with a fidget toy from my cupholder.

But I admit, as I caught Katie reach for the car’s safety strap, riding in the Defender was an experience .

My history professor grandfather used to say that it could be as bumpy as a World War II B-17 bomber plane.

“You’ve been in this car before, haven’t you?” I asked.

“Only once,” she answered.

“Austin took me for a short ride a few years ago, when you were in Florida for a showcase. He’s very respectful about this being your car.”

Warmth filled my heart.

“He wasn’t too thrilled when Grandpa gave it to me. I didn’t even have my license yet, only my permit.”

“He mentioned that.”

She didn’t elaborate.

“There are a pair of sea bands in the glove compartment,” I said when Katie didn’t look any more comfortable.

“They really help with car sickness.”

“I’m not carsick,” she said, but rifled around for the wristbands anyway.

“You’re just driving too aggressively.”

I tried not to sigh.

We’d been on the highway all of fifteen minutes.

“Do you want to listen to something?” I asked after a while of nothing but wishing I hadn’t put the Defender’s soft top back on this morning.

It was a beautiful summer day, and I wanted to feel the wind in my face and whip through my hair while I blasted my pump-up playlist. “You can scroll through my Spotify, or I have Rules of Civility on Audible. It’s by the same author as A Gentleman In Moscow —”

“No thanks,” she cut in.

“I’ve read Rules of Civility twice.”

“Okay,” I said quietly.

Why was this so hard?

“Yes, I’m excited,” Katie said, as if starting our conversation over.

“I’ve been to three bachelorettes this summer, and they’ve all been absurdly over-the-top in cities that never sleep. I mean, we had to do this ridiculous scavenger hunt in Nashville for my one friend…” She trailed off.

“Anyway, I’m glad this weekend is going to be more relaxed.”

“Amanda said it’s going to be super chill,” I confirmed, even though the Google Doc didn’t make it seem that way.

Everything, right down to our outfits, was planned.

Katie nodded, but before I could resume staring dead eyed out the windshield, she asked how things were going with online dating.

“Are you still talking to Jacob?”

I tried not to make a face.

Katie wanted to know how my journey to true love was going?

It truly seemed like her interest and enthusiasm had timed out of Ready-Set-Date, which honestly felt like a cut each time she ignored updates.

She hadn’t commented when I’d texted the bridesmaids after the movies.

This just in… I’d written, eager to entertain.

We had a really great time!

Yasmin responded first: Did you guys kiss?

!

I teased them with a smirking emoji.

Meredith’s message stuck out among the cheering others.

How was it? she asked.

Swiftian?

If only , I wrote, having discovered ages ago that Meredith was a Swiftie.

We’d traded friendship bracelets.

I wouldn’t worry , Paige said after I’d elaborated.

My first boyfriend wasn’t a good kisser at first either.

It takes some practice!

Paige Cavanaugh, did you even read her message?

Reese texted. She compared kissing him to a St. Bernard slobbering on her!

She used the word “drool.”

We’ve all been there…

Courtney wrote.

The consensus was that first kisses weren’t everything, and that if I’d genuinely had fun with Jacob, I should dismiss our kiss as a fluke and give him another shot.

“Yeah, we’re still talking,” I told Katie now.

“He asked me out again for this weekend, but obviously I said no. I think I’ll ask him to get pizza and ice cream or something when I’m back. I just don’t…” I trailed off to ease up on the Defender’s clutch pedal and grab the gear stick so I could shift.

“You just don’t what?” she asked when I had both hands back on the wheel.

I shrugged. “I just don’t know if I like him enough to kiss him again. Okay, sure, first kisses aren’t like the ones in the movies, but this was seriously gross.”

“I’d friend-zone him then,” Katie said, unscrewing the cap of her water bottle.

She took a sip. “What’s the point of going on another date if you know he’s your frog and not your prince?”

Because Connor hasn’t cut ties with Lauren yet , my Machiavellian mind thought.

I wasn’t actively trying to break them up, but if Lauren got frustrated with Connor when he included me in their plans—her pout–silent treatment combo was right on point—or if Connor kept making a face whenever he asked who I was texting, then fine.

Fine, fine—totally fine!

“Friend-zone him,” Katie repeated, “and match with someone else until Connor figures out you swimming around in the dating pool bothers him.”

My eyes widened, and not because anything was happening on the road.

“What?” I blurted. “How do you know about Connor and me?”

The answer was the most obvious answer in the world, but it didn’t fully connect until Katie said my brother’s name.

“He thinks you guys could be amazing together,” she said as my face reddened.

I couldn’t be upset with Austin; Katie was his fiancée, the peanut butter to his jelly, the star to his burst. Why wouldn’t he tell her his hopes and dreams and fears and family updates?

Plus, he hadn’t violated my trust in any way.

Wanting Connor and me to be together wasn’t the same as saying that I had a crush on Connor.

But it was a little embarrassing.

“Austin’s a huge fan of friends-to-lovers,” Katie continued.

“He told Paige it’s his favorite trope.”

Her voice had quieted a little, and I wondered if she was thinking of Samira—of Austin and Samira, and their friends-to-lovers-to-friends relationship.

I knew Katie didn’t like Samira, but did she feel threatened by her?

Was she, too, secretly wondering if Austin would wake up one day and realize he wanted to be with his best friend again?

No , I blinked the thought away.

No, there was no way.

She was the one with the ring on her finger.

“Hey, you want to hear something weird?” I asked, to change the subject.

Katie agreed, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw her admiring her French manicure.

I was losing her. A podcast was imminent if this didn’t pique her interest.

“Okay, get this,” I said.

“Besides none of my dates advancing to a second date, they’ve all had something else in common…”

“Mmm? What’s that?”

I licked my lips, the two ready-and-waiting words almost ticklish, then said: “Marco álvarez.”

Katie’s eyes snapped up from assessing her nails.

Finally, I’d hooked her!

“Wait, what?” she asked.

“You talk about Marco on every date?”

“No.” I shook my head.

“Marco has been on every date.”

***

Finally , after two bathroom breaks, spurts of inexplicable traffic, a missed exit, and a wrong turn, Waze told me to turn onto a private paved road leading into the woods.

It went uphill, so I shifted into first gear while Katie basically pressed her face against the window like a little kid.

“Wow,” she breathed when the thick trees opened up to reveal a rambling mansion, three stories of beige stucco, soaring white columns, and every window style imaginable.

“What would you list this as?” I’d asked Dad after showing my parents the house online.

“It looks vaguely French country meets Craftsman? Right?”

Da had spoken first. “I don’t know, but I’d market it as The Great Gatsby meets lake life.”

Katie burst from the Defender the second I put it in park and didn’t bother waiting for me.

“No worries!” I said once she’d slammed the passenger door shut and taken off for the house.

“I’ll get the luggage…”

Big balloons had been arranged on the front porch, metallic gold letters spelling out WELCOME KATIE!

along with the ubiquitous diamond ring mylar balloon.

Determined to carry a hundred things all at once, I gritted my teeth and pushed through the strings of pearlescent beads that had been hung in the front doorway.

“Oh, Mads, perfect!” Amanda said after I literally tripped into the enormous foyer.

“These are Katie’s things, right?”

I nodded slowly, too busy taking in the cathedral ceiling, arched windows, and crystal chandelier.

“I’ll take them,” Amanda continued, gesturing to the gleaming wood staircase.

“I sent her up to find her room and so she can change.”

Katie had multiple outfits for this weekend, all of them predictably white.

Tonight’s was a simple athleisure two-piece set that the bridesmaids had chipped in on as a surprise gift.

“You should hurry and change too,” Amanda told me.

“The chips-and-salsa spread is almost ready. Courtney is making her famous guac and Reese is gonna mix margs.”

“Sounds good,” I said.

Just like Katie, the bridesmaids had assigned outfits for the weekend—or coordinating outfits.

Tonight, I was supposed to wear black and pink.

Upstairs, a silver star with my name in metallic purple puffy paint had been posted on a door that opened into a small cozy bedroom.

My custom T-shirt was waiting for me.

And the T-shirt wasn’t the only welcome gift left on the room’s twin bed.

“This is no joke,” I murmured, spotting a shiny gold-sequined fanny pack.

SQUAD was stitched across the front in black lettering.

I unzipped it to find what I assumed was this weekend’s survival kit, which included everything from Altoids to throwback soda–flavored lip balm to packets of Liquid IV powder to a pair of heart-shaped red sunglasses.

After changing into black gym shorts and my light pink KATIE’S LAST SPLASH shirt, I followed the chorus of voices downstairs to the kitchen.

The bridesmaids were gathered around the marble waterfall island, everyone in their matching bachelorette T-shirts and chipping-and-dipping while sipping margaritas.

“You are so specific about your salt rims!” Reese said to Katie, who was sitting on the island and glowing in her crop top and biker shorts with a brIDE-TO-BE sash and tiara.

“Mads!” Reese called.

“How serious do you want your salt rim?” She held up the bride’s glass, whose rim was heavily coated with pink Himalayan salt.

“On a scale from one to Katie?”

I swallowed.

My parents had told me I could drink a little this weekend, but I wasn’t really feeling it tonight.

“Give her a chance to hydrate first, Reese!” Meredith said, as if reading my mind.

She appeared out of nowhere, wearing what looked like an XL T-shirt.

The hemline almost reached her knees.

I’d learned that Austin affectionately called her “Tink,” and I couldn’t say he was off base.

She did look like a little fairy with her sun-streaked hair in a topknot and gold ankle bracelets.

“How strong are Reese’s margaritas?” I asked after she handed me a bottle of water.

“Strong enough that I’ll confiscate your keys if you drink one,” she replied, then shifted from one foot to the other.

“Actually, I’m going to confiscate your keys no matter what.”

I almost laughed.

Where am I going to go?

We’re in the middle of nowhere!

“I’ll go grab them,” I told Meredith.

“They’re upstairs in my backpack.”

“I appreciate it,” she said kindly, but her expression was solemn.

Remembering Austin telling me about Meredith’s sister dying in a drunk driving accident, I suddenly was overcome with the urge to hug her.

She squeezed me back when I did.

“Just chuck them with everyone else’s in Yaz’s and my room…”

Later, Paige was properly booed as she preheated the double ovens for the six frozen pizzas she’d supplied for dinner.

She took it in stride.

“What do you want from me? You guys know I don’t cook!”

We brought our dinner and a couple bottles of rosé out back to eat, and the second I stepped onto the deck, I understood why we’d splurged on this house.

The property was idyllic, with a grassy-green lawn and pebbled beachfront, and beyond that was nothing but the seemingly endless and stunning Seneca Lake.

A dock stretched out into the glistening blue-green water, complete with lounge chairs, kayaks, and paddleboards.

My heart leapt. I’d always wanted to try paddleboarding.

Everyone was a little tipsy by the time the sun set and the pizza had been polished off, so there was a lot of giggling as Amanda directed us toward another patio across the lawn.

It had a sheltered outdoor kitchen, where Paige was redeeming herself by setting up a make-your-own-ice-cream-sundae station.

A white tarp had been mysteriously strung up, but it made more sense when Amanda flicked on a projector.

“This weekend is all about our sweet Katie,” she said once we’d settled on the couches with our sundaes.

“Tonight, we’re relaxing with some of her favorites…” She took a bite of her banana split.

“And tomorrow evening, we’ll get down to business.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively as Meredith whistled and Reese went, “Ow, ow!”

A wave of relief washed through me.

Dinner had been fun, but I wasn’t prepared for any games tonight.

It had been a long day of driving, and the one glass of rosé I’d been nursing hadn’t exactly loosened me up enough to find out Katie and Austin’s favorite sex position.

Ew , I cringed, even though my salted caramel sundae was delicious.

Details about my brother’s sex life were pieces of knowledge I never needed to acquire.

Amanda soon hit play on Katie’s favorite wedding-themed movie: The Hangover.

Courtney groaned. “Katie, you are so weird . This is so not a wedding movie!”

“I told her the same thing,” Amanda said after Katie shushed her cousin.

“I made her agree to a double feature. The next pick is way better.”

Bleh , I thought, predicting something like Wedding Crashers or Bridesmaids was on deck.

I’d never seen Katie watch an honest-to-god romantic comedy.

They weren’t my favorite, either, but sometimes I wanted a guaranteed happily ever after.

Especially when it came to weddings.

***

I remembered Meredith taking the video and later texting it to me, but I must’ve been so tired that I didn’t really recall sending it to other people.

Per its 12:13 a.m. timestamp, I’d dropped it like a bomb in several text threads, and when my alarm went off the next morning, I saw a handful of notifications.

Mortified, I felt my cheeks burst into flame.

YOU ARE AMAZING , Natalie had replied, and Connor: How drunk are you?

My club field hockey group chat—twenty girls total—was going absolutely wild with emojis and GIFs, so I didn’t do more than skim their messages.

Instead, I tapped into the Good Genes thread.

Funny , Dad had written, I was under the impression you were celebrating Katie’s bachelorette?

Dad had the most acerbic texts.

A girl only has a brief window to connect to this song , Da said.

I forgive you.

I tapped on the video, only to be treated to thirty seconds of myself singing and dancing along to ABBA’s “Dancing Queen.” Katie’s second movie selection had surprisingly been Mamma Mia!

Her fake rhinestone-encrusted tiara had somehow ended up on my head, and there I was, standing on the outdoor kitchen’s island and showing off my moves.

Shimmying my shoulders, shaking my hips, and even attempting some gymnastics.

It was quality content, but…

Why the hell did I send this to my family?

! I thought while watching myself inappropriately running my hands along my body.

I promise I wasn’t drunk!

I quickly texted my parents.

Ice cream sundae sober.

Literally.

Oh, we know , Dad replied.

You never would’ve pulled off that handstand otherwise.

Just be careful , Da added.

No more attempts to steal Katie’s thunder…

“I wasn’t—” I grumbled but cut myself off when I glanced at the nightstand’s alarm clock.

Shit, 8:30. I had to roll out my breakfast spread.

Meredith, thankfully, was the only one awake.

She stood at the counter, not eating but dumping Italian dressing into a gallon-sized ziplock bag.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Good morning, dancing queen!” She smirked when I rolled my eyes.

“I’ll be out of your way in a second. I’m just marinating the London broil for tonight.” She nodded at the huge slab of steak on the counter as she added some salt, pepper, and herbs to the marinade.

Dijon mustard for the finishing touch.

“Isn’t Reese a vegetarian?” I asked after she’d sealed the meat in the bag and stored it in the fridge.

There had been a DIETARY RESTRICTIONS section in the dossier.

Someone—Courtney?—had a peanut allergy.

“She’ll be fine,” Meredith said.

“I’m making a salad, and there are plenty of side dishes on tonight’s menu.” She clapped her hands.

“What can I do to help with breakfast?”

I shook my head.

I wanted to channel my inner host; I wanted to channel Da.

“Nothing,” I told her.

“I’ve got this.”

First, I preheated the oven to warm up the álvarez quiches and then queued up the coffee maker to brew twelve cups before washing the berries for my fruit salad.

By the time Katie and the others wandered downstairs, the quiches were cooling and I’d finished setting up the bagel station.

“Oh, Mads, this looks amazing!” Yasmin exclaimed.

Paige winced, clearly hungover.

“Doesn’t it?” Amanda said, slathering strawberry cream cheese on a poppy seed bagel.

“It’ll totally fortify us for the day.”

I noticed Katie hadn’t said anything and didn’t seem interested in any of the food.

She’d grabbed a plain Chobani and a small plate of fruit before joining Meredith in the breakfast nook.

Everyone else had said thank you; she didn’t.

Is Katie mad at me? I texted Austin after reporting to Good Genes that breakfast hadn’t been an epic failure.

For my dance last night?

Because if she was, that honestly wasn’t fair.

I remembered her bequeathing me her tiara, thus giving her blessing to dance my ass off.

She might’ve even smiled at me.

Austin: All she said was you guys had a fun night!

Somewhat relieved, I sent back a thumbs-up emoji and told myself I would chill today.

Taking a back seat would be easier since we were scheduled to visit five vineyards, all of which would take one look at my driver’s license and shake their heads.

The uniform for the wine trail was a “classy bustier top and jeans,” so I pulled on those along with sandals and my new bridesmaid swag.

As if scripted, the seven of us gathered in the foyer before Katie descended the staircase.

She was a vision in a lacy white sundress and wedges.

She too had a fanny pack, except hers was white sequins and said brIDE in gold stitching.

Her pair of heart-shaped sunglasses was also white.

Her bright cherry lipstick coordinated with our red glasses.

“How do I look?” she asked.

Our cheers bounced off the foyer’s walls, and from there, we piled into our rented party bus.

Our fearless driver had decorated it with streamers and immediately offered Amanda full control of the aux cord.

The “Bachelorette Bangerz” Spotify playlist we’d collaborated on was blasting before we’d even made it out of the driveway.

People settled in their seats after the first couple of songs.

From my spot in the way back, I fished my phone out of my fanny pack to look at my text thread with yet another “Dancing Queen” video recipient.

I only had one glass of rosé , I’d written, but this movie makes me feel some type of way…

You’re cruel , Marco had replied.

That’s it.

You’re cruel.

Two words.

Two words, and I had no idea what he meant by them.

Did he also think I was stealing Katie’s spotlight?

Or that my dancing was so terrible that I was disrespecting ABBA?

I didn’t realize how long I’d been contemplating a response until Amanda silenced Beyoncé and shouted, “We’re here!”

The sun blazed in the sky, and Courtney reminded us that we had travel-sized sunscreen in our SQUAD packs.

I was impressed; they’d really thought of everything.

“Mads, why don’t you save us a table over there?” Amanda suggested, gesturing to Rose Hill Vineyard’s flagstone patio.

“While we go in and get flights?”

“Oh, okay,” I said, wondering a.) what a “flight” was, and b.) if they were embarrassed to have me with them.

The house was one place, but a drinking establishment was another.

It wasn’t like I was going to scandalize them by trying to flash my ID!

“I’ll help Mads hold down the fort,” Meredith announced.

“Katie, I’ll have whatever you’re having.” She looked to Yasmin.

“Order some pitchers of water, too.”

“Absolutely, Mom,” Amanda deadpanned, and I had to swallow a laugh when Meredith flipped her the bird after she led the rest of the group inside the building.

“I love Amanda,” Meredith told me.

She laughed. “I really do, but she has to realize this is a marathon, not a sprint.”

We chose an oblong wood table under an umbrella, and before I knew it, I asked Meredith if Katie was upset with me.

“She didn’t talk to me at breakfast,” I said.

“Was my dance last night too much?”

“No, don’t worry.” Meredith shook her head and smiled.

“She told me before bed that she thought the dance was hilarious.” She paused.

“She’s just worn out, Mads. She’s working really hard for a promotion at work, gone on multiple bachelorette trips this summer, which are honestly exhausting, and wedding planning is a lot .” She laughed.

“Part of why I eloped was because I didn’t need that kind of stress.”

Oh, wow, I thought.

I’d had no idea Katie had so much on her plate.

Could that explain why she wasn’t a regular participant in Ready-Set-Date conversations?

Meredith sighed. “I hope she unwinds this weekend.”

“Yeah, me too,” I whispered before asking where she and Wit planned to move in the fall.

Fifteen minutes later, Katie and the bridesmaids emerged outside carrying individual trays of wine.

They had two Rose Hill staff members in tow with two icy pitchers and water glasses.

“Thank you so much,” Katie said graciously, and slipped them both tips.

It turned out a “flight” was basically a selection of wine samples.

Each tray had six mini stemless wine glasses; three were filled with white wine, and three filled with red.

Reese proposed filming our first and last drinks of the day, to compile into an Instagram Reel.

Reese was above TikTok.

Katie volunteered to go first. “I’m Katie, the bride,” she said luminously, and held up her baby glass of sauvignon blanc.

“And this is my first drink of the day!”

“To Katie!” the table toasted as she took a sip.

When it was my turn, Reese offered me a little glass of red.

I accepted.

“I’m Mads,” I said, “I’m a bridesmaid, and this is my first drink of the day…”