Page 59 of My Heart Still Beats
“Thank you.” I take a sip and walk over to Betsy, who’s standing on the beach and looking out to the ocean.
She turns to me and smiles. She’s wearing her signature flowing Bohemian-style dress in light blue, and her feet are bare. Good idea. I kick off my sandals.
She holds a Skye cocktail in her hand. “You want to taste this? It’s really lovely. You can hardly taste the Wild Turkey.”
I shake my head. “No thanks, Bets.”
“Tess, come on. This is Skye’s bachelorette party. I’m not saying you have to get drunk, but you should taste her cocktail. It’s so very…Skye.”
I sigh. “Fine.” I take a sip of the light blue cocktail.
And shockingly…it’s good.
Not overly sweet, and I do taste a tinge of the bourbon, but it works with the blue curaçao and the lemon juice.
“Delicious, right?” Betsy says.
“It is good.”
“Let’s get you one.”
“I don’t know…”
“I understand. Never mind.” Betsy jingles the ice in her glass. “Maybe you’ll feel more comfortable when we toast Skye.”
She’s right. We have to toast Skye soon, and as the maid of honor, I’ll be leading it.
Old Tessa would’ve written everything out, had a lot to say, including a little bit of a roast, talking about all the trouble Skye used to get into in college—which was none because she was always a control freak. Old Tessa would have been jovial and jolly and would have had all the women laughing and crying and nearly peeing themselves.
“You know what, Bets? I’ll try the Skye.”
“If you’re sure.”
I nod, and a moment later, Betsy brings me a Skye cocktail.
It is a beautiful shade of light blue, much like the blue sky above me—which I guess is the point.
“What’s everyone else drinking?” I ask.
“Kathy’s drinking bourbon shots.” Betsy looks over at Kathy, who’s sitting next to Daniela, several empty shot glasses in front of her. “That girl can hold her alcohol. And Daniela is drinking Skyes.”
“What about champagne?” I ask. “Shouldn’t there be champagne for a toast?”
Betsy laughs. “I have no idea.Youplanned this, Tess. Did you plan for champagne?”
Warmth slides into my cheeks. I’m sure I’m growing red. I didn’t plananyof this. Ben did. Surely he’d think of champagne.
Wouldn’t he?
I take a sip of the drink and look over at the bar. Terry motions to me. “Excuse me,” I say to Betsy.
I walk over to Terry. “Yeah?”
“Are you ready for me to pour the Dom Perignon for the toast?”
Okay. Bendidthink of champagne. Or the resort event planner did. Whoever it was, I say a silent thank you to them.
That means I need to think of something to say.
