“We did agreatjob today. Thank you, Sasha, seriously. I couldn’t have planned any of this by myself. The wedding is going to be incredible.”
“Oh, sure you could have,” she says, waving a hand before drawing me in to a quick hug. “You head to bed soon too, okay?”
“Oh, I’m just waiting for everyone to rally. We’re heading back to Clyde’s, right?”
She laughs as she leaves the kitchen. I wring the rag I’ve been using into the sink, looking up only when I hear the door to the back deck opening and see Ren slip outside alone.
I focus on the glasses that need to be loaded into the dishwasher, the rest of the kitchen cleanup. By the time I’m done, Sasha is in the bathroom, Thad sprawled across the couch, everyone else in their respective bedrooms.
I grab a sweatshirt from my bag, shrug it on over my dress, then slide the door to the deck open. Ren’s standing at the top of the stairs that lead down to the beach, and he looks back at me just as he puts his phone into the back pocket of his jeans.
“I promised the parents I’d check in with them,” he says.
“They’re still awake?” I cross my arms against the slight chill of the night, watch the way the gentle breeze sifts through his hair.
“Seems like they had their own party back at the house. But they’re headed to bed now.
“Tired?” Ren asks after a moment of silence.
“No,” I say. “You?”
“No.” He tips his head in the direction of the beach. “Want to walk?”
I smile. “I’d love that.”
Ren gets a flashlight and his own sweatshirt from inside, a gray one I used to steal when we were in college. There are worn spots at the cuffs where I would jab my thumbs against the inside, hook them there to pull the sleeves down over my hands.
The beam of Ren’s flashlight lights up a path along the beach in front of us, and we gravitate together and apart over the cool sand, arms brushing together and then away and then finding each other again.
“Can I tell you something awful?” I say as the lights of the house fade behind us. We’re one of the few homes still awake on this stretch of beach, the rest of them just shadowy shapes above us.
“I’d love to hear something awful,” he says, voice low even though it doesn’t need to be.
“I’m sure you did such an excellent job setting up those air mattresses,” I say,moderating my own volume to meet his. “But I would kill to sleep on the screen porch tonight.”
Ren’s shoulder jostles mine as he lets out a chuckle. “Can I tell you something awful?” He leans in so his lips are closer to my ear, his hand cupped around them. “Me too.”
“Stevie would be livid if we didn’t participate in the slumber party,” I say.
“Interesting slumber party,” Ren says. “Do most people go off to separate rooms and pass out because they danced too hard to Hilary Duff?”
“She’d justknowif we left.”
“She would. I think we’ll do okay on the air mattresses.”
I kick at the sand as the light catches on the edge of a sand dollar. It’s only a half one. “We do have to be well rested for tomorrow,” I say. “Lots of setup to do.”
“I’ve heard hungover is the best way to get anything done.”
“Hey, not us.” I flip around and walk backward. I want to see his face. “We haven’t had anything since those pink shots. What do you think was in those?”
“We make something pretty similar at Sublimity,” Ren says, nose wrinkling. “I think I’m going to shield you from that one until there’s a little more space between us and them.”
“Get a lot of bachelorettes at Sublimity?” I’m still walking backward, and Ren’s eyes drop to my ankles, skim back up my legs.
“We do, shockingly.” He aims his flashlight between us, but I keep my eyes trained on his face. His brow is furrowed, one hand extended my direction, like he’s ready to catch me if I fall.
“Really?” I ask, something about the dark or the pink shots or the week in general making my tongue loose. “The indie music venue with the hot bartender is a real bachelorette destination?”
