CHAPTER FORTY
Sarah
“I always wanted to have the whole ‘Have you seen the way he looks at her?’ kind of love. And I feel like I have that with Ry.” Maggie’s face has that concentrated look with the tiny crease between her brows. “And I will do everything it takes to make that continue.” Her entire face brightens, and a dreamy, contented smile spreads across her face. Her skin still has a nice tanned glow from her honeymoon with Ry.
Since I didn’t have to work this weekend, we’d planned some girl time to catch up on episodes of Kimmy Schmidt. But I couldn’t get through more than five minutes before my words burst free. Everything bubbled over, and I’ve just finished telling her about Jack’s joking the other night about the whole “erosion” topic.
“The thing is…” She pulls up one leg, placing her foot flat on the couch cushion and wraps her arms around it. Propping her chin on her upright knee, Maggie regards me carefully. “Jack’s a good guy—we all know that. But I think you might have thrown him off by coming out and announcing you’re not into marriage.”
“But—”
She holds up a hand to stop me. “According to Ry, Jack’s never been like this—the way he is with you—with any other woman. Which means he has pretty serious feelings for you.” Her eyes widen dramatically before she announces in a loud whisper, “Like maybe he really likes you and wants to go steady.” Maggie claps a hand over her mouth on a loud, exaggerated gasp, promptly getting one of the throw pillows hurled at her.
“Stop it.” I roll my eyes in dismissal.
Replacing the throw pillow on the couch, Maggie tips her head to the side thoughtfully. “But, Sarah, what if he’s serious about this whole erosion talk?”
Abruptly sliding off the couch, I begin to pace. “I just…no. Jack can’t possibly have serious feelings for me. I mean, come on.” Throwing up my hands in exasperation, I add, “It’s not like we’ve even had a full sexual experience together, for God’s sake!”
“You and I both know that’s not everything,” Maggie states calmly.
“He’s never said the L-word, at least not in a serious way, either. I mean, no…” Is it just me or is my voice sounding high pitched and slightly panicked?
“Yet.”
“Maggie!” I throw up my arms. “You are supposed to be calming me down. Instead, you’re inciting more panic.” I press two fingers to the side of my throat. “My pulse is crazy right now.” Narrowing my eyes, I add, “Because of you and your talk of madness.”
She rolls her eyes at me. Because, yeah. What a gem of a best friend. She’s so supportive.
“Sarah, your pulse is racing because I’m being honest with you. You have feelings for him, and he has feelings for you.” Exhaling a long breath, she adds with a wave of her hand, “Then you discover you love one another and live happily ever after.” She springs up from the couch and tosses her hands in the air. “Confetti everywhere! The entire city of Saratoga Springs will rejoice!”
Do you hear that sound? That’s the sound of my best friend getting kicked to the curb.
“And then”—yes, Maggie continues—“they’ll have parades and, ooh!” Her eyes light up excitedly, and quite honestly, she’s getting a little too carried away here. “There might even be Clydesdales. And they’ll ride right down South Broadway, and everyone will celebrate…” Maggie tips her head to the side, face scrunching in thought. “Wait. What are we celebrating again?”
I can’t. I. Just. Can’t.
“Happily ever after for me and Jack,” I supply in absolute monotone. Doesn’t faze my friend, though. Not one iota.
“Right!” Her face brightens as she continues with her little imaginary parade details. I merely sit back on the couch with a long sigh and prop my chin in my hand. She’ll eventually tire of these plans.
I hope.
* * *
“Tell me again how we transitioned from a parade through downtown Saratoga Springs to you and me getting crazy on a girls’ night out?” I flash Maggie an amused look as we wait for our drinks at the bar.
She waited for Ry to get home, and he, being the great guy he is, agreed that Maggie and I should head out on the town. Ry said he’d gladly be our chauffeur for the night if we needed him. Knowing Maggie and myself and the fact we’re both mega lightweights when it comes to holding our liquor, this night could only go two ways. It could end with us having two drinks tops and then people watching until the terribly late (notice the sarcasm there) hour of nine o’clock at night.
Two wild and crazy girls, that’s us.
Or the other possibility—which has probably less than a two percent chance of happening—is that Maggie and I will get crazy and take downtown Saratoga Springs by storm. That’s not especially likely considering the fact Maggie and I are the equivalent of two young grandmothers who fantasize about getting into their PJs and lounging around the house with a glass of wine and a snack by seven o’clock in the evening.
But wonders never cease because here we are, in the middle of one of the more popular downtown bars, all dolled up, makeup near perfect, and wearing our favorite jeans that make us feel skinny, paired with tiny tops.
You know what I mean. Women all have that one pair of jeans, that one top, and that one pair of shoes that magically transform how you feel, transform your attitude. That’s what we’re working with tonight, and I can’t lie; it feels good. Just me and my best friend.
Oh, and about a hundred of our “closest friends.”
“Oooh!” Maggie squeals, tossing back shot who-knows-what-number, and drags me to the center of the dance floor for a Miley Cyrus song.
Go ahead. Do it. You know you want to break out the judgy eyes on us, but you can’t tell me that you can hear Miley’s “We Can’t Stop” or “Party in the USA” and resist tapping your toe, at the very least. If you try to claim a firm “no,” I will promptly call BS on that noise.
Dancing horribly—which is the only way Maggie and I dance, by the way—and singing at the top of our lungs, we are having the time of our lives, and not once does it cross our mind that we’re going to be total hot messes by the end of the night. Because, let’s be honest. When you and your best friend continue yelling over the loud volume of the dance club, “Best night EV-ER!” to one another, there’s absolutely no room for regrets.
Somehow, as the night carries on, so do the drinks. Which can mean only one possibility when it comes to us.
Shenanigans galore.