Page 4 of My One
“Hell yeah!” I cheered, and we all downed our shots.
“Let’s dance.” Kym grabbed my hand and started to drag me to the dance floor.
It had been a while since we’d gone out dancing. In fact, the last time was before Brooke’s birthday. A guy had asked me to sit on his jacket for him and I was certain I’d never forget that scenario. Plus, I still had the leather jacket the idiot practically gave me.
As we danced to song after song, I thought about how my life had changed in less than a year. What if that guy had asked for my number? What if he’d asked for a dance? Would I have booked the cruise where I’d met Avery? I looked over at Brooke and smiled. If I wouldn’t have booked that trip, she wouldn’t have met Easton, and we wouldn’t have moved to New York. And now, while I danced with my best friends, I fully understood what it meant when people said things happened for a reason. Everything eventually had a connection.
I still wasn’t sure why I’d lost my baby. Maybe it wasn’t the right time? But then why did I become pregnant in the first place? Of course, I knew the answer: broken condom. But why? Why wasn’t I pregnant right now?
“We need more drinks,” Jenna stated over the loud music. We all nodded and followed her back to the bar.
“More shots?” Brooke asked. Shots were easy, and exactly what we needed to get drunk—fast.
“Yeah. Let’s just do Fireball now,” I suggested. You could never go wrong with a shot of alcohol that also freshened your breath.
“Yes, Fireball,” Kym agreed.
Brooke turned toward the bar and ordered us the shots. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, giving her a hug. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” It had been six months since she’d had her last radiation treatment. It had taken her some time to recover and get her energy back, and it hadn’t helped that I’d been going through my own ordeal after losing my baby, but we’d both pulled through.
“Me, too,” she replied and hugged me back.
The bartender placed the four shots in front of us, and I grabbed two, handing one of them to Kym as I turned around. Brooke handed one to Jenna after she’d paid for the shots.
“Who’s toasting now?” I asked.
Kym smiled and held up her glass of the amber liquid. “May the best of your past be the worst of your future. Cheers.”
We clinked our shot glasses together and then downed the cinnamon whisky. “We need another,” I suggested.
Brooke started to turn back around to the bar but stopped to stare at the person standing next to me. I looked up into the stranger’s eyes and smiled tightly, trying to be polite but not interested.
“Trying to drink your mistake away?” he asked.
I arched a brow as I hissed, “Excuse me?”
“Vegas. Drinking.” He ran his fingers along my sash. “Getting married.”
“You think getting married is a mistake?”Who the fuck was this guy?
“It was for me. Best night of my life wasn’t my wedding night. It was the night the divorce papers were finalized.”
“Good for you,” I replied sarcastically.
He smirked. “Why don’t you come up to my room and enjoy one final night before you make your fiancé miserable?”
“Look, dude. You need to go,” Kym interjected.
“I’m not speaking to you,” he snapped.
Kym took a step forward. “Well, I’m speaking toyou. We don’t want you here.”
“Let me get this straight. You came to Vegas—to a club—and you don’t want to get laid?” He motioned around the bar as though to prove his point. “Haven’t you heard Vegas’s slogan?”
What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. “Yeah, but you know whatdoesn’tstay in Vegas?” I jeered. I was done with this guy.
He cocked a brow and grinned. “What’s that?”
“An STD. Now get the fuck out of here.” I started to walk away, hoping my friends would follow, but before I could take more than two steps, a hand wrapped around my wrist, halting me. I was spun back around and into the stranger’s arms. “Let me go!” I ordered, pushing at his chest with my free hand.
