2

All night, I lay awake on the sofa, the questions swirling in my mind like a restless tide.

Did Mara really want this marriage? Was she being forced into it because I ran away? Did she hate me for abandoning her all those years ago? What if this was a trap to lure me back?

"... kidding me? What do you mean it doesn't matter?!"

Susan's voice, though muffled, cut through my thoughts. She should have been whispering sweet nothings to some new man-of-the-week by now. Not that I blamed her; she was too beautiful to be ignored for long. Her confident, she was just too brave.

"...You don't have to be a loser, John," I heard her hiss. "What do you mean you want to 'claim' her last? She barely tolerates you!"

I frowned, a knot forming in my stomach making me nauseous.

It couldn't be my John. Could it? There was an edge to Susan's voice, a raw intensity that made me want to eavesdrop. I knew I shouldn't but....

"Screw that" I muttered.

I rose and crept toward her room, the door slightly ajar. Her vanity was a disaster zone, half-finished makeup tubes and scattered brushes littering the surface. Her usually impeccable hair was thrown up in a messy bun, and the dim light cast half her face in shadow, highlighting the distress in her eyes. It was glossy, like she was crying or about to cry.

"Are you scared of her?" Susan spat. "Am I not enough for you?!" she yelled, her voice cracking.

As if sensing my presence, her gaze snapped to the doorway. I stammered, feigning sleepiness.

"Couldn't sleep either?" I mumbled, hoping I sounded convincing.

Susan hesitated, her expression unreadable. "I was just about to come wake you up, Kat," she said, dropping her phone onto the bed.

She gestured for me to come in, and I perched on the edge of the mattress, watching as she rummaged through her closet. She emerged with a slinky mini dress, holding it up to my face. 

"Put it on. Let's have some fun on your last night," she said, her voice laced with forced cheer.

I managed a weak laugh as she tossed the dress at me. There was something in her eyes, this tinge of anger. It was like a mirage but I saw it. The corner of her lips and nose danced in disgust. Or the way her finges seem to make sure it wasn't touching me. 

Could be my imagination. Just stress.

She had done it before, maybe when we joke about something but this time I saw it clearly.

"I'll be back after the wedding, Susan. Don't be so dramatic," I scoffed, trying to lighten the mood; my mood.

She didn't respond, her silence unnerving.

While I watched, she busied herself with her appearance, meticulously applying makeup and styling her hair.

"You're serious, aren't you?" I said, letting the dress fall onto the bed. I turned toward the sound of my ringing phone.

When I looked back at Susan, I could have sworn I saw her glare at me. Was it the reflection of the dim light half her face or just my head.

"Got to take the call" I muttered and rushed out.

Shot! It was John.

I hesitated, then answered the call. It was as good a time as any to tell him about my impromptu trip to Bucharest. Not like I was going to tell him about my sister's wedding or about Sam or more about my family. It wasn't like we weren't on the verge of crashing.

"Hi, babe," I began, my voice trembling slightly.

Silence.

I fumbled for the right words, his silence making it even harder. Usually, he would have peppered me with questions about my day, my whereabouts, and maybe even offered some semblance of conversation.

"Uhmmm... John, I have to..."

"I'm breaking up with you," John interrupted, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My heart plummeted, and a wave of nausea washed over me. My throat tightened and as much as I almost suddenly felt like I shouldn't be this broken, I tried to pain in but it didn't work. My lips started to quiver and fanned my face with my other palm.

"I said, it's over, Kat," he added, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The initial shock quickly morphed into a burning rage. I wanted to scream, to lash out, to tell him what an insensitive jerk he was. But—

"I heard you, John. It's okay," I said instead, and ended the call.

I collapsed onto the sofa, burying my face in my hands. He had always treated me "somehow," but I thought he loved me. He didn't have to be so callous, especially now, when I needed him the most.

Worse, my feelings were a tangled mess. A part of me had always wanted to end the relationship, but I also craved his affection. I knew he was a jerk, but... Did that mean I had no self-worth? I promise I wasn't some self pity weak woman.

I heard the click of Susan's heels as she emerged from her room. "You still coming, Roomie?" she announced, striking a pose. "John can join us, so..."

"We broke up," I blurted out, cutting her off.

She froze, her expression blank. Normally Susan was someone with so much expressions. Either eyes twitch, or a grunt, she would do something but this....this was too flat. She wasn't even cussing him out.

I brushed past her, grabbing the red dress she had offered. It was a daring bodycon with an open back. I had the perfect shoes and bag to match, and as I got ready, I fought back the tears threatening to spill. My quivering lips wouldn't stop messing my lipgloss. I kept blinking back tear that I couldn't draw my eyes liner well.

I tried to project an air of strength, to accept that things just happen, but it wasn't happening.

"Uhmmm, are you sure you want to go out?" Susan asked, her voice laced with concern. That, that tinge in her voice was real.

I forced a smile. For the first time in my life, I felt a surge of rebellious certainty.

"Call the Uber. I'm ready to paint the town red," I said, attempting a playful giggle that fell flat.

It wasn't funny, and Susan didn't laugh. She just stared in disbelief as I grabbed her phone and booked the ride. I avoided her pitying gaze while we waited for the car. Soon, we were stepping out onto the sidewalk in front of the bar.

"Katherine, you know John is..."

"I don't want to hear about him," I snapped, my voice sharper than intended.

My gaze was fixed on the entrance as we walked inside. At that moment, I just needed a strong drink, a bad decision, and to catch my flight the next day.

I slid onto a stool at the bar, watching as Susan took a seat beside me. Her eyes scanned the crowd, as if searching for someone, oblivious to the bartender standing in front of her.

"Something suitable for a breakup," I told him, forcing a smile.

He offered a sympathetic—I know how you feel—smile before turning to mix my drink. My throat burn as I downed the first glass in one gulp and gestured for another, which he poured without hesitation.

"You know it's my first breakup," I said, laughing as he filled the second glass.

Like a seasoned therapist, he nodded toward Susan. "She broke your heart?" he asked, his voice low and conspiratorial.

I frowned slightly, but laughed it off. "This one's just looking for the boyfriend of the week," I said, downing the second drink.

Woah! I felt that one.

The second drink was harder to swallow; my head swam, and I contemplated a third.

I glanced up at the bartender, who chuckled as he served the customer next to me. His face softened with genuine concern as he refilled my glass, his eyes meeting mine.

"This is strong stuff, Queen. Don't let no lowlife turn you into a drunken mess," he said, watching me toss back the third shot. "Look around. Some good folks in here. You might find more than just this week's partner if you want." He winked, gesturing subtly to a corner of the bar.

I laughed, following his gaze. Gosh, he might be right.

A sly smile spread across my face as I spotted him.

Mr. Handsome.

"Go get your man, darling," the bartender whispered, giving me a gentle nudge.

Shyly, I looked away. He seemed way out of my league. His broad shoulders, his enigmatic expression under the dim bar light, the melting ice in his glass, his strong hands resting on the table.

"My goodness," I breathed.

It seemed I had finally caught Susan's attention. She looked at me, then at Mr. Handsome. Our eyes met, and I expected her to smile or offer some words of encouragement, but instead, she scoffed.

"Don't hurt yourself, Katherine," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "I bet you 100 bucks you won't even get his name."

Her words stung, I felt belittled and needed to prove her wrong. My gaze snapped to the bartender as he refilled Susan's glass.

"I'm not lying," Susan said, taking a sip. "She doesn't have the guts," she added, her eyes challenging me.

Red! I saw red, though it was probably just the bar's neon lights.

Without thinking, I downed the third drink and smoothed my hair.

"Get my money ready," I yelled, and marched toward him.

I knew I should probably reconsider, but I didn't. I stood before him, watching as he swirled the ice in his glass before looking up.

His expression softened as he met my gaze, and he rose to his feet in silence. He Squinted his eyes in the dim place as of trying to get a good look for my face.

"Hey," he said, his voice a low rumble.

Fueled by the shots, recklessness, and a desperate need to prove Susan wrong, I closed the distance between us. My body brushed against his cautiously, and I reached out, my hand lightly caressing his zipper.

"Kiss me like no other," I whispered, my voice husky with desire.

I felt his body tense. He grew hard in my palm and for a few seconds, it scared me but....no backing down. Not now.

His eyes, previously unreadable, now burned with a mixture of surprise and intrigue. He lowered his head, his dark eyes locking onto mine before closing for the kiss.

I felt his erection press against me as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. He kissed me with a raw passion that made my knees weak.

I wanted more. I wanted everything...

"Uhhhhh, Kat? Katherine," I heard Susan call, her voice laced with disbelief.

I pulled away, turning to see her standing there, holding out a hundred-dollar bill. She looked bitter, but I didn't care. I snatched the money, flashed Mr. Kisser a dazzling smile, and walked out of the b

ar, head held high.

I walked out with his taste still on my tongue and a hundred dollars I never needed.

Some mistakes you make sober. Some you make on purpose.