“Bullied!” Grace exclaims. “We just wanted our favorite second mom to join in on the fun. It was a bonding moment.”
I don’t get offended by the “favorite second mom” comment. Though my mom loves Olivia and Grace, she’s never been close with them the way Gail is with us. My friends are welcome at my parents’ home anytime, and they take them up on their open invitation to Sunday dinners at least once a month, but it’s never been the way it is with Gail. Maybe because she’s been a single mom since Olivia’s dad passed when she was young. Without a partner, she grew closest to the people who were always hanging around her house.
I’m so lucky she brought her kids to Port Myles, and even luckier that my parents eventually did the same. I’m thankful – god, I’m sofucking grateful – that they brought me into their fold during freshman year, when they’d already been bonded for so many years before that. They didn’t have to take me in the way they did, but I’ll never stop feeling like the luckiest girl in the world that these are my people.
Without warning, my eyes well up, making my friends and the tequila shots still clutched in their hands a blurry mess.
“Are you crying?” Grace cries. “Why?”
“I’m not!” I yell back.
“You are,” Olivia laughs, wide-eyed.
I fan my hand in front of my face to quell the tears. When that doesn’t immediately work, I tip my head back and stare at the dingy gray ceiling. I’m an emotional crier and they know this, but admittedly, in the middle of a bar with a tequila shot in my hand when I’m still soberisa strange time.
“I was just thinking about how much I love you guys,” I tell them, though my attention is still focused above us. It’s easier this way, confessing these big feelings while I’m not looking at the reasons for them. “I’m so happy you guys took me in when I moved here, and I’m so lucky to have had you all cheering me on these last few months. I’mso–”
My voice breaks, and I pause, taking a deep breath. I tip my chin back down to find three sets of wide eyes looking back at me. I turn to Olivia, grabbing her hand with my free one that doesn’t have tequila sloshing onto it from a tiny glass. “I’msohappy for you, and I wish fourteen-year-old Elsie could see herself now, celebrating her best friend who’s getting freakingmarried.”
Olivia takes in a shuddering breath, her eyes just as glassy as mine now.
“I am going tokillyou for ruining my makeup,” Grace vows as she glares at me, her voice wobbling slightly. From Grace, that’s anI love youas clear as if she had said the words aloud.
Gail has no problem saying them, though. “I love you three,” she tells us, beaming at each of us. To Grace and I, she adds, “Thank you for loving and cheering on my daughter the way you have for so many years. We’re lucky to have you in our family.”
“Fuck,” Grace chokes out with a watery laugh. “You guys are killing me. Can we please take this tequila shot before I’m wearing all of it?”
Without another word, we clink our glasses together and knock back what’s left of them. The tartness of the lime afterward is almost as unpleasant as the liquor.
The second her empty glass hits the bartop, Grace reaches for a second, eyeing Olivia and I until we do the same.
This time, it’s Olivia’s turn to get emotional. “I swear this will be quick, and then no more tears for the rest of the night,” she promises, raising her shot glass for a toast. “To my best friends. Though I’ll soon have a husband who vows to be by my side for the rest of my life, you two were there first, and I know you always will be. Through good times and in bad, I know I can always count on you two. Thank you. I love you.”
“Goddammit, Olivia,” Grace hisses, fanning her eyes with her free hand. “I love you, too.”
I laugh through my own perpetually watery eyes. “Love you both. Always.”
“Are you ladies okay over there?” someone calls from where they’re perched against the bar.
“We’re fine,” Grace calls back. “Our girl here is getting married and we’re a little emotional.”
After we down our second tequila shots, the man who asked if we were okay tries to buy us another round, but we switch to glasses of water to offset the tequila. Olivia gives him the two shots we still have left because she swears she’ll throw up if she drinks another one.
The bar is crowded, and I spot more than a few pairs of cowboy boots and flannels for country night. We join the crowded dance floor and sip our waters while we dance to the twangy music, and I try not to break an ankle in my heels.
When our drinks are finished, we make our way down the street to The Tavern, which is more lowkey and quiet enough that we can have an actual conversation. We all squeeze into a booth and share appetizers and a pitcher of margaritas, and Gail makes sure we each have a glass of water, too.
We’re at our fourth bar when Olivia’s drinks really catch up with her. Everywhere we go, people want to buy drinks for the bride-to-be. Most of them want to buy all of us a round, but I manage to refuse at least half of them, or pass them off to someone else. I’m just past tipsy, but not fully drunk. For the sake of the job I have to do tomorrow, I can’t indulge as much as Grace and Olivia tonight.
“This is the best night of my life,” Olivia yells while we wait for the bartender to take our order. She insisted on justonemore glass of liquid courage before taking the stage for the real reason we’re here tonight – karaoke.
“Until two nights from now when youactuallyhave the best night of your life,” Grace reminds her.
“Okay, yes, that will be the best.” Olivia nods seriously. “But until then? It’s tonight.”
“My sweet, drunk girl,” Gail says, patting her daughter’s hair affectionately.
“I’m not drunk,” Olivia insists. It might be convincing, if not for the way she wobbles slightly in her heels as she says it.
