Chapter 67
Elle
“You’re lucky I like to steal your sweatshirts.” I say as I hand him a Wolves hoodie from my suitcase. “Now you don’t have to hitch a ride back to the hotel shirtless.”
His smile is warm. “You’re the best.” He says as he bends down to give me a kiss.
“We still need to have that talk, Arch.”
“I know, as soon as I get home on Sunday we will.” He assures me. His ride pulls up and he ducks inside, heading back to his football summit.
I wander back into the still warm bed hoping to get a few more hours of sleep before our boozy brunch Iris planned.
The alarm goes off sooner than I had hoped. We’re all up and ready to go by 10, since our reservation is at 10:30.
The brunch spot is incredibly popular, not a free table to be seen. Our table is laden with eggs benedict, avocado toast, and an endless supply of mimosas.
“Can we just discuss Vi’s dance?” Iris says as she sips her mimosa.
Vi giggles, covering her face with her hands. “Oh my God, he was so intense!”
“Wait?!” I whisper-shriek. “I missed your cowboy dance?! Tell me everything.” I urge Vi.
“Forget telling!” Hallie says, sliding her phone across the table, “We’re showing!” She hits play and the dance is replayed in high def.
Hallie taps the screen, and the table bends in to watch. The clip is short but the chemistry between Vi and The Rattler is undeniable. It shows the entire end of the dance: The Rattler leaning closely, the intimate head tilt, and Vi’s heated expression before The Rattler speaks.
Vi laughs. “And then he leans in, and he doesn’t whisper a dirty joke. He says, ‘Don’t settle for boring, beautiful. Life’s too short.’ And then he walks away. Leaving me hot for cowboys.”
“Wait... he actually said don’t settle?” Maya asks.
“Yep. I tell him I am getting married, and he says I am making a mistake.” She giggles delightedly.
I sip on my mimosa; I missed a lot while riding my own cowboy in the bathroom.
Nia, Vi and Iris’ cousin and the youngest bridesmaid, pipes up, “Hallie, you need to keep that video locked down. Seriously. If that ever gets out—”
“Relax! It’s staying in the bachelorette vault. It’s just too good not to have proof that a cowboy tried to save Vi from the same penis forever.”
I choke on my mimosa as the party giggles, except for poor Nia who seems distraught over the video.
Iris raises her glass. “Look, he is handsome, Vi. And he gave you a great moment. Now, let’s toast to the fact that you are marrying a man who loves you, not some cowboy who gives unsolicited existential advice.”
We all raise our glasses in unison. Cheering to Vi’s happily ever after to the love of her life.
The afternoon sun is a golden haze showering the living room of the Airbnb in an ethereal glow.
After taking a power nap after brunch the space has been transformed into what could rival backstage of the Victoria’s Secret fashion show.
The large wooden dining table is covered: brushes, primers, curling irons, and bottles of setting spray.
It looks like Sephora and Ulta had a turf war on the table.
Vi, is sitting by the windows, letting Iris pin her rainbow hair back into a work of art.
I’m sitting on the couch sliding my cowboy boots on. I learned from my mistake last night, no more heels. I don’t care if they have ‘memory foam soles’, the boots win out over heels every time now.
The conversation flows, including discussions of dating horror stories, rapid-fire bachelorette games, suggestions on where to start, what places will have the best music and last-minute outfit changes.
We take one final, obligatory round of pictures and then, we are out the door, ready to take on Nashville.
Our first stop is a newly renovated rooftop bar that offers sprawling views of Broadway below. Vi looks stunning in a white mini dress that shimmers under the patio lights as she orders the first round of extravagant cocktails. Claiming the old adage ‘treat yo’self’.
Iris raises her expensive cocktail, “To Vi. And to the fact that we are not sharing this moment with a single over-testosteroned man tonight.”
I laugh, poor Arch doesn’t know that he will never be able to live his stunt down.
The atmosphere is pure, unadulterated enjoyment.
We spend the first hour drinking and playing some of the games the rooftop bar offers.
We quickly find out that drunk Elle is absolute shit at giant Jenga.
We move to the corn hole boards once they are free, after one too many toes got smashed by Jenga blocks.
Around 10:00 PM, we descend from the rooftop and plunge into the pounding heart of Broadway.
The street is a river of people, noise, and cheap beer.
We choose a popular honky-tonk bar known for its loud bands and tiny dance floor.
The energy is intoxicating. We push our way to the front, staking out a small corner near the stage.
The band is phenomenal, blending classic country with rock covers, even pulling in some pop hits.
Vi grabs my hand and drags me toward the dance floor. We dance, a hell of a lot better than Archer. Moving our bodies to the rhythm, only stopping to replenish our drinks or take a shot.
Vi’s other bridesmaid Maya spots a karaoke bar across the street and shouts her idea over the music.
“Oh my God! I need to sing some Shania right now!” Nia shrieks.
We are all in agreement. It’s settled: we finish our drinks and move the celebration to the karaoke bar.