Chapter Two

We open the bathroom door slowly and cautiously, as if expecting a wild animal to leap out.

Jenna is on her back... handcuffed.

Her wrists are twisted back, and she’s kicking while trying to sit. Her thong has shifted, her hair is a mess, and the feather boa we used as a gag is now half hanging from her mouth. She looks completely unhinged and utterly furious.

She lets out a string of muffled curses, her eyes darting between us like she’s calculating which one of us she’s going to maul first.

Lala takes a step back. “She looks as if she’s been through a minor war.”

“She did that to herself,” Dawn mutters.

Bethany crouches slightly, inspecting the cuffs. “How did she end up flat on her back like that?”

“She was thrashing. The strippers tried to reason with her,” Amelia says. “They even offered her prosecco. The only thing she wanted as she screamed was to have Edward’s blood.”

“Well, you said she bit one of them,” I say, trying not to burst out laughing. 

“She tried to headbutt the other,” Dawn adds.

Jenna growls through the feather boa gag. Her eyes are practically vibrating with rage. If she could spit fire, we’d be ash by now. We all stare at her... A moment passes.

“So... who’s going to remove the cuffs from her wrists?” Bethany asks, eyes wide.

No one moves.

“Because whoever does it,” Amelia says carefully, “is going to get smacked across the face and maybe lose a chunk of hair.”

“She’s strong when she’s mad,” Lala whispers.

“She’s a literal boulder of rage,” Dawn says, deadpan. “I nominate Bethany.”

Bethany takes a full step behind me. “Absolutely not. I still have a bruise from last year’s bachelorette when she tried to body slam that guy who said tequila was ‘overrated’.”

I look down at Jenna, who’s now yelling in full muffled rage. The gag wiggles with every word, her fists yanking at the cuffs.

“Maybe we just slide a glass of water toward her and wait for her to cool off,” I suggest.

Jenna kicks the side of the tub. We all jump.

“I think she’s ready to talk,” Amelia says.

“She’s going to kill us.”

“She’s going to kill you,” Dawn tells me. “You’re the bride. She holds you to a higher standard.”

“Well, technically, she handcuffed herself in protest,” I say.

“No,” Bethany replies. “We basically had her handcuffed, to be fair.”

We fall silent again. Jenna glares at us with betrayal and a little drama queen flair.

Amelia finally sighs. “Alright. I’ll do it. But if she lunges, someone better throw a towel over her head.”

“I’m already filming,” Lala says, holding up her phone.

Of course she is. I’m finally back in my apartment. The silence hits me as soon as the door closes behind me. Being with the girls had kept me distracted. Their laughter, their jokes, their chaos had wrapped all around me like a safety net. But now, standing here alone, the pain crawls back in.

                                                                             ****

I kick off my heels and drop my bag by the door, then walk straight to the charger. My phone’s been off for hours. I plug it in and wait for it to come back to life, watching the screen as if it might somehow deliver good news instead of more chaos.

The Apple logo glows. Then the flood starts. Dozens of missed calls. Voice messages. My heart sinks when I see Edward’s name at the top of the list. He’s left voice notes. Several. All sent one after the other. Then I see my mum’s name. Again and again. And below hers... Edward’s mum.

Oh God.

I hadn’t thought about them. I hadn’t thought about the fact that they were all expecting a wedding. Expecting joy. Expecting a celebration with music and flowers and me in a white dress, smiling like everything in the world was perfect.

I lean against the kitchen counter and close my eyes. They don’t know what I saw. They don’t know what he did. Or maybe they do. Maybe they’ve heard whispers. Maybe Naomi made sure of that. She wouldn’t miss the chance to pour salt into every open wound she could find. My stomach turns. My pulse drums behind my ears.

I open my eyes and take in the room. A floral arrangement rests on the table. A veil is draped over the back of a chair. Place cards sit in a small box, the ribbon still tied neatly around them. It’s all here. Everything we planned. Every tiny, perfect piece of a future I thought I was walking into.

My phone buzzes again. The screen lights up with his name.

Edward.

I stare at it for a second. My thumb hovers over the screen. I breathe in through my nose, hold it for a beat, then let it out slow. My heart taps once, hard, against my ribs.

I swipe to answer.

“Heeyyy baby.” I say, my voice light, sweet, exactly the way he likes it. There’s a beat of silence. Then he exhales hard, like he’s been holding his breath.

“Fiona, what the fuck? I was worried. I called Jenna, but she didn’t answer. I even called Amelia, Dawn... nobody was fucking answering. I thought something had happened to you.”

I saunter to the kitchen counter, still holding the phone to my ear.

“Aww, I’m sorry, baby,” I mumble. “My phone died. We had a little too much to drink, that’s all. I just got home.”

Another breath from his side. He’s pacing. I can hear it.

“I told you that whole bachelorette thing was a bad idea. Look what it’s done. You scared the shit out of me.”

I keep my tone calm. “I didn’t mean to worry you. Forgive me?”

“I’m trying,” he mutters. “But seriously, Fiona, I was about to drive to every damn hotel in Miami.”

I smile without meaning to.

He keeps going. “Anyway... I need to calm down. I’ll see you at our wedding tomorrow, alright?”

“Of course,” I say sweetly. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I hang up and stare at the screen. “What an absolute dickhead.”

I shake my head and toss the phone onto the counter. My lungs feel tight again, but not so much with panic this time.

I breathe in again real deep before I grab my phone again from the counter and scroll straight to my mum’s name. Hit call.

She picks up after the first ring.

“Fiona! Where have you been? We’ve all been worried sick!”

“Mum, calm down,” I say, steady and firm. “I need you and Dad to come over right now.”

She pauses at the other end. She knows something is wrong. “We’re on our way.”