A LITTLE (AFTER) PARTY NEVER KILLED NOBODY

Trix, Meg, and I go for a light lunch at some cute bistro close to our hotel. Around 2:30, we (I say we, but big LOL) get a text from Whit. She lets us know her and Alex just arrived and they want to meet up if we're around. Oh and also, what are we wearing?

I agree to meet up with them, because why not? We find Alex and Whit at the hotel just before 3 PM, with almost an hour to go before we need to meet for the pre-rehearsal dinner. Brooks is MIA with Brody and his mom and Lauren and the family... doing actual wedding related shit. Nate and Travis won't be up until later tonight. After my second glass of an appropriately fall spiced sangria, I'm starting to wonder why I agreed to come up so early.

The little buzz I was hoping for earlier has in fact proved useful. It's fast blossoming into a heavy buzz, but I am careful. Well, trying to be careful. Crossing over into absolute drunk territory is not on the agenda for tonight. Or the weekend. Period.

"Let's change before dinner, yes?" Trix asks, standing up from the hotel bar.

"Yes, please!" I sound way too excited.

Truth is, it's 3:40 and I'm about to see Brooks in 20 minutes and I need to look more presentable than I did at the bakery counter this morning, cute guys checking me out or not. So I gladly follow the girls back through the lobby and up to our rooms.

I dig through my suitcase, swaying side to side to Meg's music. My fingers are searching for a V specific material. The satin of my black jumpsuit. I know, jumpsuit.

The three of us slip into our fancy rehearsal wear and are ready in next to no time. I tussle my hair in the giant ass bathroom mirror, plumping at the root for some volume. I look well-rejuvenated from our train ride this morning. With one last coat of Trix's pink sparkle lip glossy, I blow myself a kiss in the mirror and follow Meg out the door.

We congregate in the lobby. I'm reminded very much of the time we spent in the Plaza all those months ago. Of course, countless things have happened since: No more Josh. No more engagement rings. Old friendships rekindled (maybe). New garden conversations.

Lauren and Brody look abso perfect, to the nines times 10. The revelry is tangible. It's hard to believe this time tomorrow we'll be at their reception. As much as I am happy for them, an all too familiar thought creeps in again. I'm still alone. Maybe one day I'll understand why everything takes three times as long to happen for me.

"But where is he?" Lauren asks Brody, stretching on her tiptoes to look over Travis and Alex.

"He's coming down. He just texted." Brody calms her.

I hear an elevator ding in the distance and two seconds later I see him.

Brooks makes a grand entrance. He's to the nines as well, and I know I'm just in store for the weakest knees of my life tomorrow if this is how good he looks right now and it's only the dress rehearsal. I could almost choke on the cloud of charisma that seems to encircle him everywhere, all the time.

I hate it about him, but I also need it like I need air to breathe. I'm drawn to him in the same stupid way everyone else is. Stop. I force myself to join Meg and Trix's conversation with two other bridesmaids, Marissa and Penn. At least I finally remember their names.

"Okay, now that everyone is here," Lauren says, glancing at Brooks. "We want to welcome you all to our wedding weekend!"

"Thanks to everyone for coming to today's meet and greet slash rehearsal party," Brody adds.

"Special thanks to Mrs. Brooks for helping coordinate and for the after rehearsal dinner!" Lauren claps her hands.

"Oh, stop." Mrs. Brooks smiles and waves everyone off. I notice how much her non-committal eye roll looks like Brooks's.

"First up is the rehearsal at the church. Everyone not in the wedding, feel free to just watch," Lauren begins.

"Or skip. We won't be offended." Brody laughs.

"Then there's dinner and then a little something after," Lauren finishes.

"Coach bus is waiting outside to take us to the cathedral now. After you guys," Brody says, ushering us all towards the revolving doors.

"I've got the playlist queued," Brooks says to Nate, pulling out his phone.

I walk behind Brooks, next to Alex and Whit, as we all exit onto the bustling streets of NYC, greeted by a glorious fall evening.

...

9:07 PM

The church rehearsal came and went. Dinner has come and gone. And now I'm waiting in a mysterious line outside of an old ass brownstone. There is no marking on the door, no sign, name, or any clue at all as to where/what I'm about to enter. My heel moves back and forth on the uneven cobblestone beneath me. This sidewalk must be 200 years old.

"Okay, two minutes!"

Lauren's voice carries from the front of the group.

"This secrecy is next level," Meg says beside me.

"I know. Like, are we about to die?" I laugh.

Trix and Travis are falling all over each other. Their heightened PDA is most likely a result *side effect* of all their drinks at the rehearsal after dinner. They are taking full advantage of being off parent duty this weekend.

We all file through a narrow side-doorway that's easily as old as the cobblestones. It's dimly lit and I almost step on Meg's shoes several times. Finally, the passageway empties out into an old cellar-looking chamber. It smells like cigars and brandy and timeless dreams and what I imagine the Titanic would smell like.

Lauren and Brody rented out the back room of some old NYC restaurant speakeasy. It's giving mad New Year's Eve soirée vibes right now. I glance sideways at Brooks, chancing it, wondering if he's having the same flashbacks I am: Vail. Clandestine Château. Rave Sex. Midnight Train Rides in the Mountains. The memories are endless.

Much like that night all those New Years ago, the next two hours go by in a roaring haze. We do a decent job of sexregating ourselves. Lauren and Brody are on opposite sides of the room. With the exception of Nate and Alex sneaking over to see the girls, I've barely talked to a man all night. Not that I'm complaining. Well, sober Emmy isn't. As it just so happens, I have drank enough of the signature rosemary gin drink that I'm slightly less dreading the 10-block walk back to the hotel later.

I slide my phone out of my purse and am just about to suggest we get a move on, when Brooks says it for me. Must be that soulmate telepathy, amirite?

"Okay, it's almost 11:30. Let's wrap up?" Brooks addresses it as more of a question than a suggestion.

"Shit, it's-so late already?" Brody says, semi-slurring his words.

"We were supposed to leave at 11!" Lauren sing-songs over the crowd.

I watch her prance around the room, long fingers clutching the stem of a fizzy gin coupe. Her stick straight rehearsal dress shimmers under the chandelier like snow beneath moonlight on a dark night.

"Okay. I'm calling some Ubers," Brooks says, looking at his phone.

"Ubers?" Travis asks. "It's New York City. Let's get cabs."

"It'll be less of a wait," Brody agrees, shrugging.

So we all file down the same narrow passageway into the chill outside. I'm regretting the no-coat decision right about now.

"Why do I so want to go dancing right now?" Trix asks, laughing.

"Because you're wasted," I answer, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, dancing!" Marissa or Penn shouts gleefully.

"It is only 11:30." The other one looks at Lauren.

Wait, no. What's happening? I have wistful dreams of being back in my giant hotel room, comfy in sweats, and maybe eating a snack or two in bed like the 87-year-old I am.

"Maybe we could squeeze in one hour?" Lauren looks at Brody.

"You're the bride. Up to you," he answers, shrugging.

"Already a great hubby," Nate says.

"A little after after party," Lauren asks everyone, eyes wide.

"Dancing it is!" Tiffany says, pulling Lauren over to the curb.

I'm praying I can somehow muster up the wherewithal to not only 1. stay aware right now, but 2. pretend to want to dance.

They pick a spot and shout the name to us all.

Lauren and Brody hail a cab, which they cram inside of with three of her friends. Travis whistles down another taxi. He piles in, with Trix and Meg and Nate following. Alex and Whit squeeze in very last row.

"Trix, absolutely not. No!" I say, already knowing what she's up to.

Trix utters a fake apology about Brooks and me not fitting, before smirking and pulling the door closed.

"Fuckers," I laugh, shaking my head.

"They really are." Brooks also laughs in disbelief. "Should we walk?"

"Are you insane?" I ask, my heel teetering on the uneven curb.

"We've walked city streets before," he says suggestive, peering at me sideways.

"We've done a lot of things before," I acknowledge.

"Okay," he laughs. "Cab it is."

We walk a block to the nearest intersection and find a cab in two minutes. We slide into the back as the driver asks us where we want to be dropped off.

I'm about to name the club spot when Brooks gives our hotel address.

"Um?" I stare at him.

"You didn't really want to go out, did you?" He asks already knowing the answer.

"No, but now-"

"Now?"

"We can't just not show up!" I exclaim.

"What will the people think?" He says with mock concern.

"Well -yea," I laugh.

"Oh relax. They're only staying for an hour. No one will even notice we don't show up." Brooks assures me.

I roll my eyes, but don't argue, and in less than 15 minutes we are back at the hotel and walking through the lobby.