Addison #2
I sighed through a small laugh. “Busy. Bridal shower next weekend. Honeymoon shopping the following Sunday. Everything has to be themed.”
“Well,” she said with a soft smile, “you’re the maid of honor. You have to be there, and make sure it’s all perfect for Lilly.”
“Co-maid of honor,” I corrected gently, as I picked up my glass again.
“She’s been your best friend since you were children, Addison,” my mother said while adjusting the silverware beside her plate. “You should be thrilled for her wedding.”
“I am,” I said quickly. “I am thrilled.”
My mother smiled at me then, patient and composed in the way she always was. “Weddings do have a way of making people think about their own futures,” she said thoughtfully. “All that joy in the air tends to inspire things.”
knew exactly what she meant, but I only took another sip of wine and let the subject die. The rest of dinner passed without her bringing it up again, and I left soon after dessert.
* * *
The rest of the week moved quickly.
Wednesday passed in a blur of showings, emails, and a stack of paperwork that never seemed to shrink no matter how many files I cleared off my desk.
By Thursday afternoon I was running mostly on coffee and momentum. That day I met up with Natalie, my co-maid of honor, for coffee.
We sat outside with color-coded Google Docs and spiraling to-do lists spread across the table.
“I’ve got Lilly’s itinerary locked for the bachelorette weekend,” Natalie said while tapping her screen, turning the tablet slightly so I could see the “Arrival Friday, champagne at the house, then Saturday brunch before the boat reservation. Dinner downtown that night. Recovery brunch and pool day Sunday.”
“Perfect,” I said, leaning forward to scan the page. “Did the boat company confirm the cooler situation?”
“Yep,” Natalie replied while scrolling. “Two coolers, ice included, and they said we can bring our own drinks.”
“Good,” I said. “Because Ashley already texted asking if tequila counts as hydration.”
Natalie laughed softly. “For her? Probably.”
“Lilly’s going to lose her mind when she sees the house,” I added. “I triple-checked the decorations order. Everything should already be set up when we get there.”
Natalie glanced up at me with a small smile. “You really thought of everything.”
“That’s my job,” I said lightly.
“Think she’ll cry when we give her the scrapbook?” Natalie asked.
“Oh, definitely,” I replied with a laugh. “Especially with that quote from her grandma.”
Natalie’s smile softened. “You’re so good at all of this.”
I shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”
Natalie studied me for a moment like she wanted to ask what that meant, but instead she looked back down at the tablet.
“Okay,” she said while brightening again. “Next on the agenda. Lingerie shopping.”
The afternoon disappeared quickly. We bounced between two boutiques on Newbury Street, holding up lace and satin like we were conducting serious research while Natalie built a running list on her phone and I vetoed anything that looked like it belonged in a costume shop.
By the time we finally settled on a few options for Lilly’s bridal gifts, my arms were full of delicate shopping bags and my brain felt pleasantly numb from decision making.
We hugged goodbye on the sidewalk a little after five, promising to text about the Charleston grocery list later, and I headed back toward the office.
The building had mostly emptied out by then, but I still had emails to answer and a contract to finalize before the end of the week.
The quiet was almost peaceful compared to the rest of the day.
I kicked off my heels under the desk, worked through the last few things on my list, and told myself I would leave in fifteen minutes at least four separate times before actually closing my laptop at 7:15.
I didn’t want to but I had to because I had a working at 7:30 that I had reluctantly agreed to.
The restaurant was loud and warm and far too generous with the wine, and the relocating couple from California had a thousand questions about neighborhoods, school districts, and whether Boston winters were really as bad as people said.
I didn’t get home until after nine-thirty. My heels came off at the door and my shoulders ached from the long day. I poured myself a glass of white wine, changed into a hoodie and leggings, and sank onto the couch just as my phone buzzed.
Sawyer: Hope your day ended better than it started.
I shifted deeper into the corner of the couch, tucking one foot beneath me as I balanced the wine glass on the armrest and typed back.
Me: It did. Exhausting, but good. Yours?
The three little typing dots appeared almost immediately.
Sawyer: Productive. Your brother only almost electrocuted himself once. High score.
I laughed quietly into the empty apartment, shaking my head as I took another sip of wine.
Me: Impressive. Okay, important question. Favorite food?
I set the glass down on the coffee table and leaned forward slightly, suddenly far more interested in this conversation than I had been in anything else all evening.
Sawyer: Kimchi-jjigae with noodles. It’s spicy as hell. Total comfort food. Clears your sinuses and fixes your life a little. My Umma used to make it for me all the time. Traditionally it’s served with rice. But I liked her homeade noodles better.
I loved that learning little things about her and her culture at the same time.
Me: Mines Tacos.
Me: I tell everyone it’s mushroom risotto, but it’s really tacos.
I paused before adding another message.
Me: And pho. I’ve been obsessed with it recently.
Sawyer: Respect.
Sawyer: I make a mean pho.
Of course she did.
Sawyer: Favorite color?
I paused for a moment before answering, tapping the edge of my phone lightly against my knee while I thought about it.
Me: Used to be blush pink. Now I think it’s copper.
Sawyer: Copper. Nice choice. I like it.
Me: Yours?
Sawyer: Kind of a muddy green.
I let that sink in. Honestly, it was the most Sawyer answer I could imagine in that moment, and I liked it.
Sawyer: Favorite movie?
I curled further into the couch, pulling the sleeves of my hoodie over my hands as I typed.
Me: Pride & Prejudice. Keira Knightley.
Sawyer: That tracks.
I frowned slightly at the screen.
Me: Excuse you?
The reply took a few seconds longer this time.
Sawyer: It suits you, you would like longing. Soft hands. Staring from across rooms…
I stared down at my phone while smiling in spite of myself.
The accuracy of it landed somewhere uncomfortable and warm at the same time.
Me: Okay, fine.
I picked up my wine again and took another sip, watching the screen while the little typing dots flickered back on.
Sawyer: I’ve got an early start tomorrow. But dinner after work?
My heart did that stupid little flip it had started doing lately. I sat up a little straighter on the couch. I didn’t check my calendar. I didn’t ask myself what made sense.
I just answered.
Me: Dinner sounds great. How about 7?
The response came quickly.
Sawyer: Perfect. I’ll pick the place.
I took another sip of wine. For once, what I wanted had nothing to do with appearances or expectations. It was simple and real, and I let myself want it.
* * *