Under the Same Stars(6)
Did Katie even have my number?
Hi, this is Mads! I texted after much contemplation. I got your package and would LOVE to be your bridesmaid, Katie! I’m really honored. <3
She didn’t respond for several hours, and when she finally did, the message read: Great! More details soon.
Three
The night of Austin and Katie’s engagement party, I took forever to get ready. Seriously, I was pretty confident that in my whole entire history of being a teenage girl, it had never taken me so long to get dressed. I sang an entire concert set list in the shower, then flopped on my unmade bed and scrolled aimlessly through my phone for a while before mustering the strength to change into something a little more appropriate than my orange-and-pink-checkered bathrobe. I swapped it out for a dusty violet dress; it had a cool metallic sheen to it. And despite blowing my brown hair dry, it ended up in a French braid, which was how I always wore it for field hockey.
But then I did something way out of the ordinary: I searched for a makeup tutorial on YouTube and followed along with my eyeliner pen, hoping to execute the perfect cat eye.
I don’t know; I guess I wanted to look older tonight? I would be meeting Katie’s other bridesmaids for the first time and didn’t want it to be so obvious that I was Austin’s younger sister—his kid sister.
Downstairs, I could hear my dads debating over the party’s mood music. Da wanted smooth jazz while Dad was pitching something called “Hipster Cocktail Party” on Spotify. “Harry, how did you even discover this playlist?” Da asked, chuckling as Lana Del Rey purred through our speakers. “We don’t frequent Brooklyn coffee shops…”
Per its invitation, the party began at seven, but the key players had arrived by six-thirty. “Mads?” Austin walked into my room looking dapper in a slate-colored suit. “You ready? Everyone’s downstairs.”
I finally found the right heels, vintage silver T-straps from the 1960s. They’d been Grandma’s and were still in perfect condition. “Yeah, almost!”
“Wait, you haven’t drunk this yet?” Austin seemingly teleported from my doorway to my closet, where he pulled out the mini bubbly bottle from my bridesmaid box. “Did Da say no?”
I shrugged. “You know I’m only allowed to drink on super special occasions.”
Austin chuckled but didn’t pop the prosecco. “Well, I’m sure he’d agree tonight qualifies.” He raised the bottle. “To the highly esteemed hosts!”
“Yes.” I grinned. “To Dad and Da!”
We pretended to take a sip (that bottle was way too warm to actually drink) right as Katie called up the stairs, “Austin, your nana just got here!”
“Coming, Kates!” my brother called back, then rustled through my goody bag until he found the bracelet. “Don’t forget this,” he told me. “Katie mentioned all the bridesmaids are wearing them.”
That’s news to me, I thought, even though Katie was apparently thrilled I was a bridesmaid. She’s so happy you said yes, Austin had texted after Katie’s curt response. I know you’ve got a lot of stuff going on, but thanks, Mads! Love you!
I desperately wanted to ask my brother why Katie had changed her mind and asked me, but I didn’t. Love you, too, I’d written back. I’m pumped!!!
“I’ll be right down,” I told him now, and after he hurried out of the room, I took a deep breath and stared down my reflection in the mirror over my dresser. They’ll like you, I reassured myself. Just because they love Katie doesn’t mean they won’t like you!
After all, no one but my parents knew my true feelings about Katie. I could pretend I loved her, too. Who knew? Dad and Da could be right; by the end of this, Katie could be the sister I never had.
Not that I’d ever really dreamt of a sister. Austin was all I needed.
But still.
We had three sets of stairs in the farmhouse; the wide kitchen staircase was the easiest to navigate in heels, so I stomped down only to be greeted by the caterers. We all considered Da a gourmet cook, but with all the people invited, solo cooking wasn’t feasible even if it was only drinks and heavy hors d’oeuvres. Ember & Ash in Princeton was at the helm tonight. Dad knew the owners; the ?lvarez family had inquired about potentially putting their house on the market this spring.
I inhaled an aroma of deliciousness from the second-floor landing before gliding downstairs to the kitchen. Well, maybe not gliding—I spent most of my time in turf shoes or cleats, not high heels—but it wasn’t until I tripped over the last couple steps that my cheeks sparked with embarrassment. “And she sticks the landing!” someone shouted when I got my footing at the bottom.
I stood there for a moment, staring at the floor and desperately willing my warm face to cool before looking up and across the kitchen to see a familiar guy smiling at me. He was wearing Ember & Ash’s standard light gray and white ombré button-down with black pants, and was busy polishing glassware. “Marco…” a nearby server warned. She was plating one of the appetizers, which I recognized as the cranberry-fig-goat-cheese crostini.
“It’s okay, Teresa,” Marco replied. “I know her.”
“Yeah,” I corroborated. “Unfortunately.”
Marco ?lvarez and I had gone to school together. He’d been two grades ahead of me, the resident soccer player that all the girls swooned over thanks to his naturally tousled dark hair and salted-caramel-colored eyes.