Under the Same Stars(65)
“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…”
Eighteen
Everyone had a nice buzz going by the time our bus dropped us off, five wineries and a wine slushie stand later, at 5:00. Well, everyone but me. Reese’s wine had been the only time alcohol had touched my lips today. During our formal wine tasting at the gorgeous chateau Domaine LeSeurre—Dad would love this place, I kept thinking—I’d stood with the group, but was not served anything but sparkling water. Katie had left with an extremely expensive case of Riesling. “Mom’s sixtieth is coming up, remember?” she’d told her sister.
Amanda sent a mostly sobered-up Katie upstairs to take a leisurely bath while the rest of us were given fifteen minutes to change into our assigned animal-print pajamas. Ironically, my PJs were tiger striped. “Fucking Princeton,” I muttered before snapping a selfie. I’d texted Connor a couple pictures throughout the day, but all he’d done was heart them; I felt a pang in my chest, knowing he was busy with Lauren.
I sent the tiger pajama selfie of myself to the Princetonians, and Simon, Zach, and Timothy Hobson-Kirby IV all liked the photo. Marco didn’t acknowledge it. Savage! Zach wrote. Who picked those for you?
Truthfully, I didn’t know.
Downstairs, everyone had been put to work. The family room had been decorated when Katie and I’d arrived yesterday: gold, silver, and white streamers artfully arranged with signs that said things like SHE FOUND HER LOVER (KATIE’S VERSION) and I CAN’T TALK RIGHT NOW, I’M DOING BACHELORETTE SHIT and POP THE BUBBLY, SHE’S GETTING A HUBBY!
(The last one mystified me; I’d read it so many times yet still didn’t understand how it even remotely rhymed.)
Paige was sprucing up the family room with embarrassing-bordering-on-blackmail photos of Katie asleep through the years while Reese and Yasmin strung up a clothesline to hang up our personality panties. In the end, I’d gone a sardonic route with pink boy shorts featuring a “Little Miss” meme: LITTLE MISS CRIES OVER SOMEONE SHE NEVER DATED.
Even I had to admit it was on point.
In the kitchen, Meredith was prepping dinner in a sleep set covered in foxes and a zebra-print Courtney was pouring predinner cocktails. “Would you like something?” she asked after handing Meredith an Aperol spritz.
“Yes, please,” I said, because to be honest, I’d really felt the FOMO today. I couldn’t do anything about only being seventeen (nearly eighteen!), but now we were back at the house. No one was going to card me, and my parents said I could indulge. Everything would be fine.
“Pick your poison,” Courtney said. “I bartended in grad school.”
“Whiskey sour,” I said. It was one of Dad’s favorites.