35. Addison
Addison
By the time we pulled up to the house in Charleston, I already missed Sawyer.
The flight was good. We drank champagne in first class and gossiped about things I barely cared about. Now, as the Uber turned onto a long, curved driveway, that familiar hollow feeling settled in my chest. I felt too far away from her.
The house looked exactly like it did in the photos.
It had big Southern mansion energy, white columns stretching up toward a wide wraparound porch.
Tall windows glowed warmly against the early evening sky, and pink balloons tied carefully to the railing in neat clusters.
The decorations had been placed exactly where the rental company and I had discussed in three separate emails about color palettes and weather contingencies.
“Oh my God,” Ashley breathed from the backseat as she leaned forward between the seats. “This is unreal.”
Lilly squealed and grabbed the door handle. “Is this our house?”
Lauren already had her phone out and recording. “This is so going on my story.”
I smiled as I grabbed my bag and stepped out of the car, pretending I hadn’t personally approved every square foot of the place.
Inside was even more elaborate.
Blush pink decorations covered nearly every surface. Sashes hung over chair backs exactly where I had suggested, and a chalkboard itinerary stood near the entryway in bubbly cursive that matched the Pinterest board I had titled Bride Weekend Vibes.
FRIDAY: ARRIVAL + CHAMPAGNE
SATURDAY: brUNCH, BOAT DAY, DINNER
SUNDAY: RECOVERY brUNCH
“This is insane,” I said as I stepped farther into the room.
“I know!” Lilly laughed and grabbed my arm. “You absolutely nailed this.”
The excitement on her face made every group chat, reservation, and ridiculous pink detail worth it.
“I’m glad you love it.”
“I love it,” she said, hugging me tightly. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I loved seeing my friends happy. I wanted this weekend to be loud and ridiculous and everything she had imagined.
That didn’t mean it wasn’t exhausting.
I slipped easily into the role I had played for most of my adult life.
Drink in hand. Smile ready. Keeping the energy up and smoothing out problems before they became noticeable.
Taking care of everyone came naturally to me. I liked knowing they were having fun. I liked hearing Lilly laugh from across the room.
I just wished Sawyer were there to share it with me.
She would probably tease me about the amount of pink, then help me refill drinks without being asked. She would lean close and whisper something dry in my ear until I laughed. She would make the whole weekend feel less like something I had to manage and more like something I could enjoy.
Her absence tugged harder than I expected.
When it came time to choose rooms, I let everyone else rush toward the primary suite and the rooms closest to the pool.
I slipped down the hallway toward the back of the house.
The room I chose was smaller and quieter, with one window facing a line of trees instead of the water.
It was the only room I had intentionally left unassigned when I made the room chart.
Relief settled over me when I closed the door.
I had spent months planning a weekend everyone would love. Needing a few quiet minutes didn’t mean I loved them any less.
I dropped my bag beside the bed, sat down, and pulled out my phone.
Me: Just got here. Everything’s set up.
Sawyer: Of course it is. You okay?
I glanced around my quiet little pocket inside the chaos.
Me: I am. Lilly loves everything.
Me: But it’s also… a lot.
Sawyer: Pink?
I smiled.
Me: Aggressively.
Sawyer: I’m sorry, baby.
That one word settled me more than anything else had all evening.
* * *
The first night stayed easy. Music played through the house while drinks were poured and everyone gathered around the kitchen, excited and a little tipsy before dinner had even started.
I greeted the chef, showed him around, and answered a few last-minute questions.
“Dinner will be ready in about forty-five minutes,” he said.
“Perfect.”
Lilly looped her arm through mine the second she came into the kitchen. “I cannot believe you pulled this off.”
“Of course I did.” I pretended to be offended. “But really, you deserve it.”
“I’m so lucky you’re my co-maid of honor., I love you so much!”
“You can remind me of that when I’m hungover tomorrow.”
She laughed and kissed my cheek.
By the time dinner was served, the table glowed with candlelight. The chef explained each course while we passed around wine and tried not to interrupt him with our own conversations.
Lauren lifted her glass first. “To Lilly.”
“To Lilly,” Ashley echoed.
Lilly turned toward me with a grin. “And to Addie, for making all of this happen.”
I lifted my glass. “To Lilly. And to this weekend not being as unhinged as it could be.”
Laughter moved around the table.
After that, I let myself relax.
I drank the wine. I laughed at stories I had heard a hundred times and added details when someone remembered them wrong. I stole food from Lilly’s plate and nearly choked when Ashley brought up our disastrous spring break trip from college.
For once, I stopped checking the time.
I still noticed when a bottle needed replacing or when the chef needed room to clear the table, but I didn’t jump up to fix everything. Everyone was happy. Lilly was glowing.
That was enough.
When someone finally declared it pajama time, we all scattered to change.
I pulled on the soft pink set I had ordered weeks ago and looked at myself in the mirror. The collar sat slightly crooked, and my hair had fallen loose around my shoulders.
It was ridiculous.
It was also kind of cute.
I snapped a picture and sent it to Sawyer.
Me: Don’t laugh.
Sawyer: I’m already smiling.
Me: First-night uniform.
Her reply came immediately.
Sawyer: Fuck. You look really good.
Warmth settled low in my stomach as I stared at the screen.
* * *
Day two arrived loud and bright.
Sunlight filled the house, and Taylor Swift played on a Bluetooth speaker before the coffee had finished brewing. Everyone moved through the kitchen in swimsuits and cover-ups, already buzzing with boat-day energy.
Lilly stood barefoot at the island in a white linen cover-up, sunglasses perched on her head.
“There you are,” she said when she saw me. “We’re still on track, right?”
“We’re perfect. Boat’s ready. Cooler’s packed.”
She wrapped her arms around me. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’d survive,” I told her. “But you’d be significantly less organized.”
She laughed and squeezed me tighter.
At the marina, everything felt even brighter. Music carried across the docks, phones came out, and Lilly climbed aboard laughing while her sash flashed in the sunlight.
“To the bride!” someone shouted.
Lilly grabbed my hand and pulled me into the middle of everyone as they cheered.
The day loosened after that.
The wind tangled my hair, the sun warmed my shoulders, and drinks kept appearing in my hand. I danced when the music hit right, laughed until my stomach hurt, and let Lauren drag me into far too many pictures.
I just had fun; I didn’t worry about schedules or plans. I just drank, sang and laughed. When I finally checked my phone, I had a message from Sawyer waiting.
Sawyer: I hope your day is great.
Me: I’m a little drunk.
Sawyer: I figured. Are you having fun?
I looked across the boat at Lilly dancing with her arms raised, surrounded by people who loved her.
Me: I am. Don’t get jealous.
Sawyer: I’m not. Maybe a little turned on.
Heat curled low in my stomach.
By the time we docked that afternoon, we were sun-warmed, tipsy, and still laughing.
Back at the house, Lilly caught me before heading toward her room and pulled me into another hug.
“You’re the best,” she murmured.
I hugged her back. “You’re having fun?”
“The best time.”
That made the exhaustion worth it.
Upstairs, I closed my bedroom door and leaned against it for a moment. My cheeks were still warm, my head pleasantly light, the day clinging to me in that loose, hazy way.
Back at the house, Lilly caught me before heading toward her room and pulled me into another hug.
“You’re the best,” she murmured.
I hugged her back. “You’re having fun?”
“The best time.”
That made the exhaustion worth it.
Upstairs, I closed my bedroom door and leaned against it for a moment. My cheeks were still warm, my head pleasantly light, the day clinging to me in that loose, hazy way.
Me: Okay. Now I miss you.
I smiled and pushed away from the door.
Sawyer: Took you long enough.
Still wearing my swimsuit, I stretched across the bed and snapped a picture, one hand resting above my head and my sun-warmed legs bare.
Me: Going to shower. Wanted you to see me in this one last time.
Sawyer: Jesus, Addie.
Heat curled low in my stomach.
“I know,” I murmured, dropping my phone onto the bed.
I grabbed a towel and headed into the bathroom.
The shower was quiet. Just hot water, steam, and the slow process of washing away the sunscreen, salt, and sweat from the day.
By the time I stepped out, I felt softer. Cleaner. Calmer.
I pulled on the oversized T-shirt I had stolen from Sawyer, nothing underneath, and towel-dried my hair before padding back into the bedroom.
The bed was too big.
Too quiet without her.
I climbed in anyway, sinking into the pillows as the cool sheets slid against my skin. For a moment, I lay there staring at the ceiling.
Then I reached for my phone and hit FaceTime.
Sawyer answered on the second ring.
She was sprawled across her couch. She smiled the second she saw me, slow and immediate, like she had been waiting for my call.
“Hey,” she said. “There you are.”
I rolled onto my side and propped myself on one elbow, letting the shirt fall open just enough to be intentional.
“Fuck, you look so good,” I murmured, my voice soft and loose from the champagne. “I wish you were here to do something about how wet I am.”
Her gaze dropped, quick and not remotely subtle. “Jesus, Addie.”
I laughed quietly and let my head sink into the pillow. “I told you I was buzzed.”