Max opens it, and several people spill in at once. Kate, her mom Carolyn, Ginger, Natalia, and a woman I've never met. She’s carrying a large jug of Cuervo Gold tequila by the handle.
“Looks like a party,” Max says, stepping aside. He catches my eye and smiles. “Have fun, ladies.”
The door closes behind him and I watch five women bustle into my suite.
“What is happening?” I say to Kate, who takes my arm and guides me to the sofa.
“We thought we'd bring the bachelorette party to you.” She tucks a pillow under my cast. “And this is Sadie Greco — we went to high school together. I told you about her.” She points to the woman I don't know, who has strawberry-colored hair, the most charming freckles, a nose ring, and a black tank top with a female pirate on the front. A pirate with a knife in her teeth. “She's about to open a pirate river cruise here in Cypress Grove. She's got a captain's license, found a boat, and everything. Sadie spent months finding the perfect pirate themed vessel for the river.”
“Salty Sadie's Pirate Ship,” the woman says, setting the tequila on the table and extending a hand. I notice her black matte manicure embossed with tiny skulls. “No need to get up.”
“Great nails,” I say immediately. “Can I photograph those for my Instagram story?”
“I knew you two would get along,” Kate says, rubbing her hands together.
My brain kicks into gear. “A pirate cruise is genuinely perfect for social media. The possibilities?—”
“Exactly what I thought,” Sadie says, grinning.
Kate flicks on the TV. Carolyn pulls a blender out of the kitchenette cabinet. Ginger produces an entire charcuterie board from a canvas tote bag.
“Kate, you didn't have to do this,” I say softly. “You could have gone out.”
“Why would I go out when all my favorite people are in one room?” She settles onto the sofa beside me. “Lift your leg. Like a dog.”
I giggle and raise my leg and cast, and she helps settle it on the coffee table pillow.
Over the next four hours we chat and snack and laugh. I have one virgin margarita, and actually enjoy the tangy lime flavor. We watch Bridesmaids and cackle. We don't play cheesy games. There are no male strippers (although I have to admit, I’d pay to see Carolyn and Ginger with male strippers).
Sadie and I spend a solid half hour mapping out a social media strategy for the pirate ship, and she promises to take me out for a sunset sail when my ankle is stronger so I can shoot the river from the water with my good camera.
The moms hold court with town gossip that gets increasingly outrageous as the tequila level drops.
“Wait.” I shake my head. “The mayor runs a hot dog cart?”
The laughter peaks and then mellows into casual conversation. Kate slips into the kitchenette while the moms chatter, and I don't think much of it. She emerges a few minutes later with a small mug and sets it on the coffee table in front of me.
“Drink this.”
I lean forward and smell it. It’s something familiar — chamomile, definitely, and perhaps mint. Back in Chicago, Kateused to leave tinctures on the kitchen counter for menstrual migraines and hangovers.
“Is this one of your blends?” I ask.
“Drink it,” she says again, and reaches for a Dorito.
I wrap both hands around the mug and drink.
The full effect hits me in about ten minutes. The pain in my ankle doesn't disappear exactly — it's more like it moves to the background, like a radio turned down in another room. And that hollow feeling I'd noticed earlier, the one I couldn't quite name, eases without my permission.
It's as if the six of us have been friends for years despite the age differences and the fact that I arrived in Cypress Grove approximately forty-eight hours ago. At one point, as everyone chatters and laughs around me, I feel tears prick the back of my eyes without warning.
Kate's so lucky to have this. This town, these women, this warmth.
I've only ever really had Kate. Most of my other friendships have been transactional and transient, because at my core I'm shyer than I look. Strangely, I don't feel that way here. There's something about Cypress Grove that makes me want to slow down. As if people might want to know me for who I actually am rather than what I can post or promote. Nobody had ever thought to take care of me the way these women are doing tonight. Growing up, I was the caretaker.
Or maybe it's simpler than that. I never stayed anywhere long enough to let people in. And before I started moving, I was too busy holding everything together to notice I was lonely.
“You okay?” Kate murmurs.
I nod and blink the tears back.
She squeezes my hand and doesn't push, which is why she's been my best friend for a decade.
For the rest of the night I let myself pretend that Cypress Grove is my home, that all this laughter and warmth is my life, and that these women are all my friends.
It's a very good pretend.
