When I’d fake gagged and hit him with my notebook, he’d relented. “Fine. If not you, maybe your friend?” he’d said, pointing to Jules as she walked toward us. When she’d given him the finger after hearing his pitch, he’d deadpanned, “What? Didn’t you guys see the size of his hands when he was writing our assignment on the dry-erase board? You know what that means, right?” As if on cue, Jules and I had cried, “That is so foul,” and broke into a fit of laughter, silently sealing a promise of a lifetime of friendship.
“Okay, people. Time to head up to the restaurant,” Jules says authoritatively, resting her empty glass on the wood table sitting between two deck chairs. “As your matron of honor, I feel it is my duty to get you there on time,” she adds, elbowing Liam jokingly.
Liam clears his throat dramatically and tugs at the collar of his crisp white shirt. “Well, as her best man, I feel strongly that she should have another drink first—in fact, I brought something stronger.” He grins as he pulls a tarnished silver flask from his back pocket—one I gave him when we were in college, instantly evoking memories of ski trips to Tahoe, late nights lounging on the deck of his fraternity house, and Fourth of Julys spent sunbathing on the bow of a speedboat in Havasu. I’d had it engraved. Think of me every time you take a sip. He swore that he did.
“Well, this isn’t the Met Gala and Kate’s not exactly Anna Wintour . . . no offense—” she says, turning toward me.
“None taken.” I laugh.
“. . . so being fashionably late isn’t going to cut it,” Jules continues, grabbing the flask and putting it up to her nose, releasing a small cough as she inhales. “Whoa—what the hell is in here?” She shoves it back into Liam’s hand.
“Whiskey,” he says with a shrug, and takes a drink, releasing an exaggerated sigh when he’s finished. “And not just any whiskey—it’s Pappy Van Winkle! Do you know what I had to do to get my hands on this? It’s harder to find than my man card after I let you talk me into wearing those skinny jeans you bought me last Christmas!” He shakes his head at the memory.
“Pappy Van what, what?” Jules laughs. “It sounds like one of those shows my daughter watches on the Disney Channel, not a brand of whiskey!”
“Oh, Jules, you have so much to learn,” Liam says before taking another swig.
“Well, I don’t care if it’s laced with gold—Kate’s not drinking that. Her friends, family, and fiancé are expecting her to be there when the party starts! Not to stumble in late.” Jules turns toward me. “Right?”
“I’m not getting involved.” I wave my hands in front of me like an umpire calling a baseball player safe. “But I will say this is exactly why I asked both of you to be in my wedding—so you can fight over what’s best for me. I love it!” I grab my iPhone and study the screen, my face falling for a moment when I realize my earlier text to Max has still gone unanswered.
“What is it?” Jules, who never misses a beat, catches my strained expression.
“Nothing,” I lie.
“You sure?” Jules presses.
“Positive,” I say.
Liam arches an eyebrow and I look away quickly. “Kate probably just has a little case of prewedding jitters, Jules. I know I’d be shitting bricks if it were me!” Liam laughs as he leans back in a lounge chair, his long legs dangling off the end. “Exactly why she needs some of this.” He waves the whiskey in front of me and I happily take it. As I’m sipping the liquor, he scoots his chair close to mine, his eyes suddenly filled with an intensity that makes me pull the flask away from my lips. “But hey, Kate, you don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to. Everyone will understand if you decide you aren’t ready to settle down.”
I stare at him, blinking hard, the backs of my eyes watering from the whiskey stinging my throat, unsure of how to respond.
“Will you relax.” He slaps my knee. “I’m kidding!” he says, laughing. “But you should have seen your face. You turned white as a ghost. Priceless.” He leans back in his chair again and I release the breath I’d been holding.
“God, you are terrible! I should fire you! And I blame this!” Jules reaches for the flask, but I hold it just out of reach as I take another sip, the whiskey going down much easier this time.
As Jules and Liam banter, I decide I’m just obsessing. Of course Max received the watch. And of course he loves it. How could he not? I saw him eyeing a similar one in Esquire, and that’s what had sparked the idea in the first place. He’ll show up tonight wearing it and wrap my hand inside of his protectively, the way he has so many times before.
“Okay, let’s get a pic for our little Facebook whore.” Jules elbows me playfully, bringing the dialogue in my head to an abrupt halt. “You know you want one!” She giggles as Liam holds my phone high above our heads, all of us jockeying for position as I give Liam instructions on how to angle the phone for the best shot, finally accepting that his forehead won’t make the cut.
After I settle on a photo, Liam sighs. “I will never understand the effort that goes into taking a picture of women that’s Facebook-worthy. I’m quite confident NASA spent less time helping the Apollo 13 astronauts get back home!”
I roll my eyes at him and pull up my page, filter the photo, tag him and Jules and then Max as well, knowing our picture will make him smile.
Feeling thankful! Lanai selfie with my besties.