day (in more ways than one), and tell her she really is the best friend a girl could ask for. We share a small hug, until I hear Jessica make a sound of astonishment and quickly pull away. I follow her gaze to see the server approaching our table with the drinks Ben ordered. I feel myself turn flush. I can hardly even look at him when the server places a tall and skinny lime margarita on the rocks in front of me. No one in the whole entire world, expect for Ben, knows that I have an emotional attachment to this drink.
When I sold my first property two years ago, Ben and I went to a little Mexican restaurant a few blocks away from Wrigley Field. He was astounded, when I told him the margarita he ordered me, was the first time I had ever had one. After my first sip, I knew I was in love. I thought it was so delicious, and I swore that from now on I would only drink margaritas for all big moments in my life.
Sure enough, I played by my own rules. I stood by my margarita promise and involved Ben in my personal tradition. Like when I passed my broker exam, we went out and drank margaritas. When I bought my condo, Ben came over with some store bought mix and we drank margaritas. Even when Marco broke up with me, for the hundredth but final time - I went over to Ben’s crying, and he made us margaritas.
Ben raises his glass in my direction from the opposite end of the table, and I give him a coy smile. Jessica waves the server over, “You better get the whole table a round of those! That drink just screams celebration!”
As Ben and I silently toast each other in the dim lighting of the bar, I know deep inside he knows as well as I do that what happened in my villa only a few short hours ago is nothing short of a margarita moment.
Chapter 9
I take the last gulp of my third margarita, and sit back to listen to the musical entertainment on stage. Our night has been nothing but fun, chatting and laughing into the wee hours of the night. Michelle pokes fun at Matthew, and imitates him screaming like a girl when he soared down the zip line. Michael retells his horrific mud bath experience - how he ended up having to smear volcanic mud all over a larger middle-aged man, and Eric re-enacts his event in the hot spring when he “accidentally” brushed up against some random woman’s double D implants. As the night wears on, Eric breaks the guys away to discuss a recent Blackhawks trade. Stephanie props her elbows up on the table then says, “So Jess, did you end up deciding on vanilla or chocolate cake for the reception?”
Jessica crosses her legs and straightens up a bit, “Honestly Stephanie, deciding this shit is like a small nightmare. I can’t make my mind up about anything, and Michael is completely useless.”
“Why don’t you have both?” I pipe up.
“It’s not that simple Megan.” Jessica says and rolls her eyes, “It’s either one or the other, and the more I lean towards chocolate, the more guilt I have about excluding vanilla all together.”
“What about your hair? Did you decide on what style you want?” Michelle chimes in.
Jessica sighs, “That’s another disaster. I’ve been debating two styles. The first is long and curled, because we all know how stunning I look when I wear my hair like that.” She pauses, and waits for us to nod in agreement, “But I’m worried because I think it’s too typical destination wedding.”
“Agreed” Stephanie says and shares another nod with Michelle, “Every bride who has a destination wedding goes for the curly lock look. It’s so overdone.”
“That brings me to my second option.” Jessica says with a hiccup, then smiles with a proud grin, “I step out of my comfort zone and pull my hair back into a sleek side bun.”
“Ooooh! You have to do that!” Michelle shrieks, “You would look stunning.”
“Don’t you have to have some class to pull off a look like that?” Stephanie says and gives Jessica a playful nudge.
“Oh, I’ve got class.” Jessica giggles and fluffs her hair, “What do you think Megan? What would you do?”
I shrug, “I don’t know. I think you will look great no matter what.”
“I don’t want to look great Megan. I want to look