Pete
vegas should pay US for the show we’re about to put on.
Kiera
Reminder: cocktail bar reservations are at 8 tonight, so no one pass out before then.
Pete
can’t wait to see all your faces. love you degenerates.
Danica
Group pic tonight or it doesn’t count. Last fling before thering, people.
Pete
can someone please tell my beautiful fiancée she does not need to bring a sparkly cowboy hat??
Maggie
Can someone please tell Pete’s beautiful fiancée that I’m not getting on this plane if she doesn’t bring a sparkly cowboy hat?
CHAPTER 7
Maggie
The Austin-Bergstrom airportwas already humming, the low-grade chaos of people dragging wheeled bags and scanning departure boards like they were waiting for divine intervention. The smell of burnt espresso from the coffee kiosk hung in the air, mixing with the faint tang of jet fuel drifting in from the gates.
Maggie stood in the security line beside Gwen, who looked like she’d dressed for a board meeting instead of a bachelorette weekend — crisp white button-up, navy slacks, leather shoes polished enough to catch the fluorescent glare. Her carry-on was zipped tight, squared off like it had been measured with a ruler.
“Okay,” Maggie said, shifting her bag higher on her shoulder. “Ground rules for the weekend. What’s our stance on PDA?”
Gwen arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize we had a stance.”
“Of course we have a stance. We can’t exactly be holding hands or making heart eyes in front of everyone. Not unlessyou want the conversation to spiral into ‘why didn’t you tell us you separated’ before we’ve even had our first overpriced cocktail.”
“So… subtle?” Gwen asked.
“Subtle,” Maggie confirmed. “Like we tolerate each other’s presence but not in a ‘wow, they hate each other’ way. More in a ‘been married so long we barely notice the other person’s there’ way.”
“That sounds romantic,” Gwen said dryly.
“It’s not supposed to be romantic. It’s supposed to be believable.”
The line inched forward. Gwen leaned just close enough for her shoulder to brush Maggie’s — on purpose, Maggie was sure — and she ignored the urge to step away.
By the time they cleared security and found a pair of seats at their gate, the overhead announcement was calling final boarding for a flight to Denver. Gwen sat across from her instead of beside her, which Maggie appreciated, and pulled out her phone.
Maggie was digging through her tote for a granola bar when she noticed the typing. Not the lazy, single-thumb scroll of someone killing time, but the clipped, fast pace of someone firing off a work email.
“Are you seriously working right now?” she asked.
“It’ll take two minutes,” Gwen said, eyes still on her screen.
“Classic Gwen. You’re already buried in work before we’ve even taken off for vacation,” Maggie snapped. “How much work are you planning on doing this weekend?”
Gwen’s eyes flicked up, annoyance apparent in her expression. “If I don’t send this now, it’ll hang over me the whole flight. This is the last email, I promise.”
