Page 131 of Thirst For Me
The wedding will be simple, the way Mason and I both want it, but even the simplest weddings, as I learn, aren’t simple to plan.
It’s kind of become a full-time job in itself.
But I’m loving every minute of it.
I’ve already given up my apartment in Vancouver, because I don’t need it anymore. That chapter of my life is now closed, and I’m eager to write so many new ones with Mason.
We went back there a couple of times in July, so he could help me clear out the rest of my stuff and bring it over to Orchard Cove. We also visited his parents’ graves, and each time, he lingered just a little bit longer, speaking to them.
When I heard him tell his mom that he gave me her ring, and that he knew she’d love me, if she could, I cried like a baby.
When July turned to August, Mason told me to “brace myself” for the upcoming apple harvest season. He warned me that it wouldbe busy. It’s the reason we planned to have the wedding so fast; before the end of August, when it’s time to start harvesting.
It was either that or get married after, and neither of us really wants to wait.
I don’t even know how I’ve found the time to train Mason’s staff to make smoothies. When he suggested we move some of my equipment into the bar so we could offer them on the menu, I was thrilled. The way Mason has welcomed me into his life, in every way, has been entirely gracious.
There are moments when I feel like I’ve been floating above the earth, too excited to quite come down. I even named a new smoothie on the menu “Walking on Sunshine.”
As the long summer days grow slightly shorter, I now live for the evenings when Mason comes home from the bar or the cider house as the sun goes down, to find me agonizing over flowers or fabric samples at the kitchen table. He rubs my shoulders, pours me a drink, and we sit out on the back porch overlooking the orchard and the sea beyond, listening to music.
Sometimes we dance together, slow. Sometimes we talk about our day, and we make each other laugh so hard we cry. Sometimes Kaylie joins us in her pajamas, sneaking out of the cottage and trying to delay her bedtime, or Scar curls up at our feet.
Those are my favorite moments.
Withhim, just living.
Our happy nights, together, just before we go up to bed ... and then we do.
Getting undressed in our room together.
Having the kind of deliciously carnal yet soul-deep sex that, before Mason, I’d only ever fantasized about.
But tonight isn’t one of those nights.
Because tonight, my best friend is throwing me a bachelorette party at the bar.
I’ve been drinking Sea Haven Raspberry Rosé sparkling cider interspersed with water, and I’m pleasantly buzzed, but no way am I getting too drunk to rememberthis.
The jukebox glows. The music is pumping. All my new lady friends have come out to celebrate with me. Mason’s sister couldn’t make it here for this, but she’s promised to be here for the wedding. And most importantly, Sophie has flown in for five whole days.
So have my parents—my mom and stepdad.
My sister is also here from Ontario. When Kim and her family piled out of their rented minivan after flying across the country for this—forme—I gave her the biggest hug ever, surprising her, I think. And for the first time in my life, I truly believed her when she told me how happy she is for me. Maybe because I’m truly happy for her, too, without bitterness or resentment or jealousy tainting it.
“My wild, beautiful sister,” she said to me, with admiration and tears in her eyes. “I’m so glad you’ve finally found your home, Si. Mason and Orchard Cove are lucky to have you.”
After that, I was a mess and needed to redo my makeup, which Kim helped me with.
Now, my adorable but rowdy nephews are at the orchard with Tommy, Kaylie, and my parents, while my sister gets cider-drunk with me. Her husband is with Mason and the boys at the bachelor party. They’re playing poker over at Evan’s place.
Or at least they were—until they walk right into the bar, just as Sophie and I are singing our hearts out to a high-energy Wham! duet, on the actual karaoke system that Mason put in—in honor of his bride-to-be. And, as he put it:Your undying love for singing along to songs you have no business singing.
Sophie has a way better voice than I do, so at least there’s that.
But music, for me, has never been about perfection. It’s aboutfeelingit.
And I am definitely feeling the second verse of “The Edge of Heaven” as the men pile into the room. I meet Mason’s eyes across the bar, and my whole body lights up. I laugh and flub the lyrics, but recover. Sophie throws her arm around my shoulders as we sing, and it’s just like that night ...
