Under the Same Stars(66)

Courtney nodded. “Coming right up!”

I waited, excited, and grinned when Courtney garnished the cocktail with an orange wheel and cherry. The first sip of the caramel-colored drink was glorious, refreshing and punch-packing. It tasted like the last sunset of summer: wonderfully bittersweet.

Meredith’s dinner was freaking delicious. Not only was the London broil marinated and grilled to perfection, but she’d also tossed a green salad and made a huge tomato and mozzarella platter with basil and balsamic dressing drizzled on top. And then, there was her corn salad with sliced radishes and jalape?os—simple, but incredible. “I wish I could marry you, Meredith,” Paige said. “Do you cook for Wit like this every night?”

Meredith smirked, eyes shining. “Cooking is one of my love languages.”

The rest of us groaned, partly because we were in food comas and partly because we were super jealous of Meredith’s husband.

We’d switched to red wine for dinner, but cocktails and rosé from our seemingly endless supply returned for the festivities. I still felt totally with it, but an unfamiliar sense of warmth had spread through my entire body. “Okay, ladies!” Amanda said once we’d all gathered in the living room. Meredith had set up a cute dessert spread on the coffee table. “Tonight, we are going to start with a game from Katie’s past!”

“Yes, I will jump into the lake naked,” I said through a cupcake.

Amanda laughed. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, Mads, but this isn’t truth or dare.” She turned to her sister, dressed in a swan-print nightgown with white feather boa and sleeping mask. “Katie, do you remember Kiss-Marry-Kill?”

Katie took a sip of Whispering Angel. “I always wanted to marry Nick Jonas.”

“Can we change it to Fuck-Marry-Kill?” Reese asked. “We’re adults now.”

The maid of honor had us vote. Surprisingly, Kiss-Marry-Kill won. “Katie, you’re up first.” Amanda smiled mischievously, then waved to the girls. “Three names.”

“Austin,” Yasmin said.

Katie beamed.

“Nick Jonas,” Paige added.

Everyone laughed as Katie blushed.

“And Charlie Carmichael,” Reese said.

“Well, the last one is easy,” Katie said. “I would kill Charlie Carmichael.”

Amanda and Meredith groaned. “Here we go…” Amanda muttered before taking a long sip of her gin-and-tonic.

“Who’s Charlie Carmichael?” I asked.

“One of my friends from boarding school,” Reese answered. “Katie met him at a party our junior year. He’s that lethal combination of charismatic flirt meets excellent listener. He asked for Katie’s number then ghosted her.”

Rude! I thought.

“Kiss?” Courtney prompted.

Katie hesitated, caught between her future husband and her celebrity crush. “Kiss Nick,” she eventually said. “And marry Austin.”

We toasted her.

“Okay, Mer, you’re up,” Amanda said.

Meredith went bang, bang, bang once we threw three names at her. Kiss? Timothée Chalamet. Marry? Seth Meyers. Kill? Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court.

Then it was my turn.

“Girls, I’ve got this.” Reese put up a hand before turning to me. “The kid who drooled all over you, the boy next door, and the hot guy washing dishes at the engagement party.”

“Marco,” Katie translated.

My stomach swished. “Where’s my celebrity option?”

Reese shook her head. “Not a requirement.”

“Umm,” I said. “I’d kill Jacob, but no hard feelings.”

The group nodded in agreement, and Yasmin quickly pressed for my one-time kiss.

A name flashed in front of my eyes…but it wasn’t Connor McCallister’s. Blood thumped through my ears, so intensely that I could barely hear myself think. Marco, my mind murmured. Marco, Marco, Marco.

Holy shit.

Did I like Marco ?lvarez? As more than a friend? Or, like, whatever we were?

Friend suddenly sounded wrong.

The bridesmaids squealed after I said I’d marry Connor.

“We’ll help you!” Amanda exclaimed. I noticed her speaking voice grew louder and more enthusiastic with every drink. “Oh my god, we can totally make this happen—”

Katie cleared her throat. “Paige, your turn,” she said before draining her drink and gesturing at her empty glass. Yasmin dutifully poured her more rosé.

I had selective listening for the rest of the game, and by selective listening, I meant I did no listening whatsoever. Instead, I stared at the stone fireplace and replayed this summer in my head. Marco and me, both slick with sweat as we played field hockey on my front lawn—the way he’d tossed me over his shoulder and how fast my heart had raced as I clung to him, the way my body had buzzed. Marco and me, sitting on the porch—him working on his cryptic novel while I read This Side of Paradise. Marco and me in Stone Harbor, the two of us waking up before the stars stopped twinkling so we could watch the sunrise on the beach.

And all the hours we had spent together in the Garden. More writing, more reading, but so much talking and laughing. I closed my eyes to imagine what things would be like if our relationship was different. Marco slipping through the garden gate, but instead of just zapping my waist hello before settling in his usual chair, I’d stick out my foot so he’d trip over and I could catch him for a kiss. You’re cruel, I imagined him whispering before taking my face in his hands and kissing me back.