Chapter 15
It’s been three weeks since the shower. One awkward Sunday brunch a week after it where Kate refused to speak directly to me, and one where I ended up bailing to avoid the awkwardness, which led to me finally calling her to apologize just to break the tension before the bachelorette party.
Despite the drama, I love my sister. I would do anything for her.
I always do everything for her, no questions asked.
She isn’t usually so snarky, so I’m wiling to let it all go just to get through this wedding without any more drama.
So now I’m sitting on a hotel bed as the rest of the girls get ready to go out and celebrate Kate getting married.
A pop playlist plays on a speaker in the living room of the downtown hotel Lydia booked for the bachelorette party—finally, a task she actually helps complete for this wedding.
Elise flops on the pale green comforter next to me and offers me a fresh glass of premade margarita mix.
I don’t hesitate to accept. It may not be the mind-blowing drink Reid made for me a few weeks ago, but it’ll still do the trick.
“I can’t believe we’re flying all the way to the Amalfi Coast next month and you want your bachelorette party to be in New York.”
Kate steps back from the bathroom mirror, inspecting her makeup before shrugging. “Yeah, why not?”
“Because we’ll be on the Amalfi Coast,” I clarify. “Think of all the fun things we could do to celebrate over there.”
“Well we can obviously still do all of those things and have a New York bachelorette party,” Kate says.
I take a long gulp of margarita. “I’m just curious how much money you think I have.”
Kate rolls her eyes in the mirror. “This is a once in a lifetime thing, Jane.”
“That doesn’t mean I have a money tree.”
“Anyways,” Kate continues, “we will do our bar crawl here in New York, and when the boys do their Italian bachelor party we can have a cute little spa day and a quiet bachelorette night.”
Jessica, ever the instigator, pins me with a stare. “Is that in your budget, Jane?”
I glare at her from the bed. This is, in fact, not in my budget, but I’m just not in a fighting mood anymore. Even if it is Jessica causing trouble. So I bite my tongue and nod instead, downing the rest of the drink in preparation.
“Spectacular,” she says, clapping her hands together. Kate swipes red lipstick over her lips, gives herself one last look in the mirror, then turns to where Elise and I sit on the bed. “Is that what you’re wearing tonight?”
“You didn’t send me a link to a specific dress for this one so I assumed I was allowed to wear my own clothes.”
“Lydia?” she calls, as if Lydia is across the hall and not in the tiny kitchenette right next to her.
“Already on it,” Lydia replies, coming around the countertop and striding over to her suitcase. She digs through a heap of clothes before finally tossing a black dress at me.
“There you go,” she chirps.
I stare at the dress, lifting it and examining the fabric, the cut, the size. “This still has the tags on it,” I say.
“I know,” Kate says. “I bought it just for you. That cut will look stunning on you. You can buy a round of drinks tonight to pay me back for it.”
With a sigh, I lift myself off the bed and change into a $100 dress.
The group of us walk in the hot July evening to get to the first bar.
The glass picture windows are decked out with red, white, and blue tinsel and stickers of stars and fireworks.
I can feel the thrum of the music the DJ is blasting as we wait on the sidewalk to get our IDs checked by the bouncer, and I can see bodies packed together inside.
I’m already dreading going in there. I don’t know how many more backhanded comments I can take tonight, but I know if I leave early, I’ll never hear the end of it. Once we walk inside, I’m immediately met with the smell of stale beer and entirely too much men’s cologne.
“Are we sure this is where we want to celebrate?” I shout to Kate over the thumping bass.
She waves a hand at me. “This is the best dance club on the street. We’ll start here and see where the night takes us!”
Two men are already flirting with girls in our party, Elise is already pacing the slightly less loud hallway with her phone pressed to her ear—assumedly talking to Charlie—and another man is striding over to Kate, who I can tell is going to flirt away with him until it’s time to leave him in the dust and do the whole song and dance at another bar.
I turn away from the group and head straight to the bar.
I’m entirely too sober for this experience.
The man behind the bar notices me and walks over, simply raising an eyebrow in silent question.
Bracing my elbows on the countertop, I lean over the bar top so I can shout my order to him.
When he nods I step back down and wait for my margarita on the rocks.
Just as he slides the glass to me, I smell an incredibly expensive cologne to my right.
“It’s loud in here, huh?” The voice is so close to my ear that I jump, effectively sloshing my drink on my hand. “Oh, sorry. Here.”
A hand starts dabbing my hand with a black cocktail napkin and I finally take the opportunity to look up at the man attached to the arm.
He’s actually attractive. Cropped dark brown hair, amber eyes, a couple inches taller than me. A few months ago I would’ve thought he was the hottest man in the bar, but now I find myself comparing all of his attributes to Reid.
And that thought is absolutely terrifying.
His eyes are pretty, but they’re not blue.
He’s tall, but he’s not as tall as Reid.
He has a great smile, but there’s no dimple accompanying it.
He’s just not him.
But the entire group of girls I’m here with are all busy dancing and flirting and I am sick of sitting by myself, so I smile at the man. If nothing else, at least I’ll have someone to talk to tonight.
“There, I think I got it all. I’m so sorry,” he shouts again.
“It’s alright,” I say, shaking out my still damp and now sticky hand. “Bar hazard, right?”
His smile widens at the seeming acceptance and he gestures to the bartender. “Can I get another one for the lady?”
The bartender nods and gets to work remaking my margarita.
“I’m Adam,” he says, extending a hand to me. I stare at it for a moment before putting my own in his. It feels wrong—his hand is sweaty and mine is sticky and his grip is too tight. I hate it.
“Jane.”
“Nice to meet you.”
I offer a polite smile and drop his hand.
As I wait on my new drink, I hoist myself on the black leather bar chair, crossing my leg over the other.
His eyes catch on my legs, traveling unabashedly down them to the pink heels on my feet then slowly back up.
I prickle slightly under his attention. It doesn’t fill me with warmth and pride and excitement like it does when Reid looks at me.
A new margarita appears in front of me and I grab it, immediately taking several gulps.
“So what are you doing out here tonight?”
“Bachelorette party,” I shout over the music.
“Where’s the bride-to-be?”
I point wordlessly to my sister who is, as predicted, grabbing the man’s arm and laughing at something he said.
“She must be very in love with her fiancé,” he says sarcastically as he watches her flirt. I bristle slightly at the comment. Kate may have hurt my feelings and made me mad, but that doesn’t mean I’ll stand for anyone talking badly about her. Especially not a stranger at the bar.
“She is, she’s just also very in love with getting attention.”
“And what about you?” he says, turning to me.
“What about me?”
“Is there a fiancé you’re in love with somewhere out there?”
I shake my head, taking another long pull of my margarita. “Nope.”
His smile widens. My foot starts bobbing under his stare, but he must mistake it for tapping to the beat.
“Do you want to dance?”
I don’t. I really don’t. But I also don’t want to sit at this bar all night chugging margaritas and thinking about Reid, so I toss back the rest of my drink, letting the tequila give me some courage to hop off the stool and walk to the dance floor with him.
I find a spot near my sisters and turn around, just to nearly slam into Adam.
“Oh!” I say. “I didn’t realize you were so close.”
“All good,” he murmurs before wrapping his arms around my waist. I move to the beat of the music, my hips swaying in time to the beat, but something feels off.
He grabs my hand and twirls me so that I’m facing forward, then presses his chest against my back.
It feels wrong too. His arms aren’t the ones I keep thinking about encircling me in a hug.
His smell isn’t the sharp citrus of lemon.
He’s just not him. I hate that it bothers me.
I hate that I keep comparing him. And I hate that Reid has somehow taken such a hold of my mind already that I can’t even entertain the idea of anyone else.
He’s going to ruin my desire to date anyone else ever again.
I can’t have that. I need to move on. If he doesn’t date or commit, then I can’t stay hung up on him, even if he does make me smile and make me feel seen and heard.
I throw myself into the dance, only focusing on the beat of the music and the feeling of warm hands on my hips.
The song ends and fades into a new one, a faster one.
The tequila has me feeling confident and carefree.
Adam tightens his fingers on my hips and it doesn’t feel right, but I’m just tipsy enough that it doesn't bother me anymore.
“Mind if I cut in?” The deep voice alone makes my heart pick up a notch.
“Actually I do,” Adam replies, his body coming to a stop, but his hands still on my hips. “We were dancing here.”
“I wasn’t asking.”