Under the Same Stars(64)

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 ?lvarez 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?”