Chapter 18
Gwen
The FaceTime window went black, replaced by Maggie’s reflection in the screen. For a moment, the suite was quieter, leaving Gwen still blinking at where the kids’ faces had been, her heart both full and aching.
Maggie began, “Did you see how Arlo—”
Gwen’s phone buzzed with a work email notification. She swiped it open before she could think better of it, her inbox spilling across the screen.
Maggie groaned, dramatic, tossing herself back against the cushions. “Can you go ten seconds without bringing work here?”
“It’s an important project.” Gwen didn’t look up.
She had dropped everything to be here this weekend for Maggie, and in the past, staying calm had worked.
Until it hadn’t. Still, they were on tenuous ground after last night’s kiss and this morning’s softness, the ease with which Maggie was holding her hand and being around her.
Maggie’s head snapped toward her. “Yeah, you’ve been on an ‘important project’ for about ten years, Gwen.”
The edge in her voice caught Gwen off guard, sharp in a room that was otherwise humming with soft chatter of people who were definitely straining to listen from all corners: Pete and Danica laughing in the hall, Izzy refilling drinks at the little bar cart, Kiera humming in approval at whatever playlist she’d queued.
Gwen typed out her reply to Melinda as fast as she could, then closed her phone, setting it face down on the coffee table, forcing calm into her voice. “There, all done.”
“You’re always only half here with me,” Maggie shot back, quieter now but no less pointed.
The words hung there, heavy, too loud for how soft they’d been said.
Gwen’s jaw tightened. She reached for her glass of wine, more to occupy her hand than because she wanted it. “This isn’t the place, Maggie.”
“I know,” Maggie muttered, folding her arms across her chest.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The laughter from the other side of the suite swelled, masking the silence between them. But Gwen felt the tension buzzing like static, familiar and unwelcome, even here. Especially here.
Gwen pressed her lips together, staring at the rim of her glass. She could feel the heat creeping up her neck, the tightness that always came when Maggie jabbed a little too close.
What stung most was the timing. They’d had such a good morning sitting close on the helicopter, Maggie white-knuckling her hand the whole flight, both of them pressed shoulder to shoulder in a way that felt almost affectionate.
And later, when Maggie came back from the spa, she’d seemed genuinely glad to see Gwen again, like the distance between them had thinned for a while.
They’d settled into a call with the kids, the boys tumbling over one another to talk about soccer practice, Rosie proudly announcing she’d made grilled cheese “all by myself,” Gwen’s mom popping in to insist with a laugh that she hadn’t let their child use the stove alone.
Jude had looked between them thoughtfully and said, “You’re together.
” Maggie had gotten teary in that soft, unguarded way that always made Gwen want to reach for her, to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, to remind her she wasn’t carrying that missing alone.
For a few minutes, it had felt good. Like maybe they were finding their way back to something steadier.
Now, this.
Of course she’d been working. What did Maggie expect — that she could just leave in the middle of a deadline?
The project depended on her. Her team depended on her.
This was the biggest project she’d ever taken on, and a promotion depended entirely on her doing well.
Dropping the ball wasn’t an option. Not when she’d spent years proving herself, climbing rung by rung until she was close — so close — to the position she’d worked for her entire career.
Maggie knew that. She’d always known that. Yet somehow, every time Gwen picked up her phone, it turned into an argument about her priorities.
Gwen clenched her jaw, her fingers curling tight against her knee. She wanted to shake it off, let it slide, but the sting of Maggie’s accusation sat heavy in her chest.
She wasn’t half here. She was here and working. Carrying both, like she always did.
And wasn’t that enough?
The conversation with Maggie sat between them, sharp and unfinished, but the suite didn’t give them room to stay there.
Because suddenly Pete came barreling out of the bedroom with Danica in tow, both of them dressed head to toe in white — white shirts and slacks for Pete, a white sundress for Danica, white sneakers, white sashes across their chests that glittered Queerly Beloved in rhinestones.
Pete spun in a circle, arms wide. “Behold,” she crowed. “Bachelorette power couple.”
Danica beamed, smoothing her sash. “We coordinated.”
“Obviously,” Maggie said, beaming with a smile.
Izzy let out a low whistle. “You look like you’re about to either get married or lead a cult.”
“Both,” Pete said, entirely unbothered. “Anyway — bachelorettes don’t sit around drinking wine in a hotel room all night. Tonight, we bar crawl.”
Kiera groaned, tugging at the hem of her dress. “Define crawl.”
“Crawl until our livers give out,” Pete said. She produced a folded neon-pink flyer from her pocket like she was unveiling the Dead Sea Scrolls. “I mapped the route. Five bars. Five themed shots. Zero shame.”
Lillian arched an elegant brow, sipping her gin. “Do any of these establishments have seating?”
Pete grinned wolfishly. “Nope.”
The room buzzed with the kind of frenetic energy Gwen had come to expect from this weekend.
Glitter, chaos, too much eyeliner. Everyone shouting over each other about who had to carry the emergency water bottles, who was most likely to vomit in an Uber, whether Pete’s plan actually had any chance of survival.
Gwen sat back, watching Maggie get pulled into the excitement despite herself. Her heart thudded with something complicated… relief at the distraction, and that same ache that never really left, even in the noise.
Pete was still waving the flyer like a war banner when Gwen finally spoke up, voice dry. “I don’t know if my liver can take this, Pete.”
Pete flopped dramatically onto the arm of the couch. “Don’t worry. If you pass out, we’ll just Weekend-at-Bernie’s you from bar to bar. You’ll look incredible in sunglasses.”
Maggie smothered a laugh behind her hand, shaking her head.
Before Gwen could retort, Lillian rose gracefully from her chair, setting down her gin and slipping her arm through Gwen’s with a sigh.
“Honestly, I don’t know how you keep up with these wild women,” she murmured, low enough for Gwen alone.
“They’ve got the stamina of Olympians. I prefer to drink sitting down. ”
Gwen felt her lips twitch before she could stop it. “You and me both.”
Pete, oblivious, pointed at them with delight. “See? Team Responsible already forming. We’ll need you two to carry the rest of us home.”
“Speak for yourself,” Danica said, patting Pete’s arm like she was indulging a child. “I have hand sanitizer at the ready.”
The chatter swelled again, sashes glittering, laughter bouncing off the suite walls.
And even as Gwen felt the familiar thrum of tension low in her chest, with the unfinished fight with Maggie and three new work emails still unopened on her phone, she let herself lean into the absurdity, just for now.
The crawl began like every bad idea — with enthusiasm and sequins.
At the first stop, Pete ordered a round of “Bachelorette Bombs,” which turned out to be tequila dropped into Red Bull.
Danica laughed so hard at Kiera’s horrified face she nearly spilled hers.
Maggie didn’t even flinch — tossed hers back in one go looking incredible in a green two-piece dress that showed off her midriff, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders.
By the second bar, Maggie was on a table dancing with a pack of strangers while Pete egged her on like a hype man. Gwen nursed a vodka soda at the edge of the chaos, her stomach twisting.
“You look like you’re calculating her blood alcohol content,” Lillian murmured, appearing at her elbow with her gin and tonic.
“I might have to be,” Gwen said.
At bar three, the group had acquired glow sticks, plastic tiaras, and at least one inflatable flamingo Pete refused to explain.
Izzy was leading Kiera in a conga line. Maggie spun into Gwen’s orbit for half a second, cheeks flushed, grinning in that reckless, magnetic way that had once undone her entirely.
Then she was gone again, swallowed by the crowd.
Lillian steered Gwen toward the quieter end of the bar. “They’re exhausting,” she said, almost fondly. “Like watching a litter of puppies knock over furniture.”
“Puppies don’t usually order Jell-O shots,” Gwen muttered, though her lips twitched.
Pete made Danica pose under a neon sign that read TIL DEATH DO US PARTY. Maggie photobombed, flashing double peace signs, a tiara sliding down her forehead. Gwen caught the moment in her periphery and felt a familiar pang — half fondness, half worry.
By the time they staggered into bar four, the energy was ragged but still loud, all sequins and slurred declarations of eternal friendship. Gwen stayed close to Lillian, the two of them orbiting at the edges, trading dry commentary while the rest of the crew spun themselves out.
Maggie was still in the center of it, reckless and shining, like the whole world was a dare.
And Gwen, steady as ever, could only watch.
By the fifth stop, Gwen’s ears were ringing from bass-heavy playlists and too many shrieks of “Shots! Shots! Shots!” She stood near the edge of the bar with Lillian, who had somehow remained elegant despite the chaos — her lipstick intact, her martini glass perfectly balanced.
She was glad for Lillian’s company in the trainwreck that was this bar crawl.
Someone who hadn’t lived through the college stories, who wasn’t fluent in every inside joke.
The group had always tried to fold Gwen in, but she’d never quite shaken the sense of being on the outside.
With Lillian beside her, at least she wasn’t the only one.
“They’re unstoppable,” Lillian murmured, leaning close so Gwen could hear her over the music. “I’m convinced Pete runs on battery acid.”
Gwen huffed a laugh, tilting her head toward her. “You’re not wrong.”
Lillian’s shoulder brushed hers. “You don’t even look tired.”
“I am tired,” Gwen said, dry. “I’m just good at hiding it.”
Lillian’s smile curved, amused. “No wonder you’ve survived in this circus for so long then.”