And there’s a pole in the center.
Leilani leaps onto the pole. Because of course she does. “If nobody’s making it rain with bills, I’m charging a cover at the door.”
Violet sinks into the seat beside me, legs crossed, drink in hand. “Alex said he couldn’t trust Leilani, so I promised him I’d be in charge of keeping it classy tonight.” She takes a slow sip and bursts into laughter. “But he knows that’s a lie.”
Krishna connects her phone to the speakers and queues up a playlist she curated for tonight. I’ll admit—she’s surprised me. Her wild side and explicit music taste is not what I expected from the woman who color-codes her pantry and sends thank-you notes for thank-you notes. Clearly, she was familiar with disorderly conduct before she married Kye and became pregnant.
Chloe squeals when the bass drops and throws back the rest of her drink with practiced ease. She sings along—every word on beat—which catches me off guard. I didn’t peg her as someone who could recite lyrics about sex on yachts and blowjobs in back seats with that much confidence, but she’s in her element tonight.
Sefina watches Leilani spinning on the pole, arching a brow. “It’s going to take at least three more drinks before I can think about doing that.”
Julia picks up the bottle, pours, and hands a glass to Sefina. “Here’s the first of three.”
Sefina laughs and slams it back in one smooth tilt. “Woo, damn, that lit me up on the way down. Give me another.”
As the city lights blur past the tinted windows, I settle back into my seat, smiling at the madness unfolding around me. I may not have asked for a party bus with a pole, and a playlist filled with songs about wild sex, expensive liquor, and making poor decisions while wearing designer shoes—but I have to admit that these women know how to throw a damn good night.
The Velvet Vine lives up to its name—twinkling garden lights strung across the rooftop, low-slung velvet booths in jewel tones, and a skyline view that makes the entire city feel like it’s ours for the night. There’s a low hum of music, the clink of crystal, and laughter.
We claim the largest table near the balcony. A server brings food menus, but most of us are too busy admiring the cocktail list—fruity, flirty, and far too dangerous.
Chloe props her chin in her hand, eyes tracking the bartender with blatant interest. “I wonder if he does after-party room service,” she says aloud as he pours a drink with one smooth motion.
Laurelyn chokes on her water, and coughs violently.
Leilani leans in, her smile wicked. “Chloe! I love you unfiltered.”
Sefina arches a brow, amused. “You’re a whole vibe by yourself tonight.”
Chloe shrugs, not even pretending to be innocent. “I’m out for a good time. That’s the assignment, right?”
Violet grins. “And here I thought Leilani was going to be the scandal tonight.”
“Hey,” Leilani says. “I’m still going to be the scandal.”
Food arrives—small plates of figs and prosciutto, sliders with truffle aioli, little skewers of something I have to try. But it’s the next server who catches my attention. She carries a tray with a precision that says something magical is about to happen.
One by one, she places a wooden board in front of each of us. On it sits a flight of four miniature cocktails in delicate coupe glasses, each with a cheeky card nestled beneath.
“The Wedding Flight,” she says with a wink. “One for each stage of surrender.”
Blushing Bride. The First Kiss. Something Blue. Married AF.
Every woman at the table lights up.
“Look at that. A tasting menu for questionable decisions,” Leilani says, vibrating with excitement.
Violet lifts her Blushing Bride first—rosé champagne, elderflower liqueur, and something floral I can’t pronounce. “This one’s going to my head in the best way.”
Julia picks up Something Blue, gives it a slow swirl, then raises her glass. “To Magnolia. May your wedding be gorgeous, your marriage happy, and your husband forever adoring.”
“To Magnolia!” they all echo.
I blush and smile, the affection in their words almost too much. The drink in my hand is sweet and heady—but nothing compared to this moment.
Leilani leans in, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “By the way, I booked something special for us after this.”
“That sentence worries me,” I say.
