Chapter 18
Evelyn
I wake with a terrifying, sobering jolt of realization.
I am in a random man’s hotel suite, and by random man, I mean Jameson.
Bolting upright, I gather the sheets around me protectively and glance left and right, but the spot either side of me is empty.
My shoulders sink with relief and a flash of memories from last night works its way through my hazy brain, instantly settling the wave of nausea in my stomach.
For starters, I certifiably did not have sex with Jameson—whether that is a relief or a disappointment, I’m not sure.
We did not kiss for a third time, and he did not sleep in this giant king-sized bed with me.
What we did do was actually incredibly lame—we sat on the end of the bed, sipping water to sober ourselves up, and talked.
Talked.
About our grandparents, his college days, my nursing dreams, his lonely childhood with no siblings compared to my chaotic one as the youngest of three.
Admittedly, it was nice getting to know him on a level deeper than simply just “rich tech guy from Atlanta.” It made him feel more human to me, and only deepened my guilt for trying to rob him.
In hindsight, I blame the alcohol for my momentary lapse in morality.
My parents didn’t raise me to be a thief.
I stretch out for my phone on the bedside table and check the time through one eye as the screen’s brightness nearly blinds me.
It’s after nine, and I have three percent battery left.
Ugh. What are today’s plans on Hailey’s itinerary, and what time do those plans begin? I fear I may already be late.
I spring out of the bed at lightning speed—I even slept in my dress, oh my God, how tacky—and raid the bedroom for my belongings. Peeking into my purse, I ensure my broken bracelet is safely inside and then slip on my heels and emerge out of the bedroom.
It’s eerily silent. Morning sunshine slivers into the suite through a gap in the curtains, and despite the AC whirring rhythmically, the room still feels stuffy and stale. On the couch, Jameson is deeply asleep on his stomach, face pressed into a cushion.
Drunk Evie certainly makes interesting choices. Trying to rob a man, then coming back to his hotel room, listening to him pour his heart out, and staying the night when he asks her to . . . I can’t say sober Evie regrets those decisions. Well, all but the first.
Perhaps I should wake him and politely tell him I’m leaving, but also, I’m a damn mess. My eyelashes are stuck together with hardened clumps of mascara and I have vodka-sponsored morning breath. I’d rather Jameson didn’t see me in this state, so I quietly creep my way out of the door.
I hightail it back to my own room, keeping my head down in fear of scathing judgment from my fellow hotel guests, and when I scan my key card and push open the door to mine and Melissa’s room, I nearly jump out of my skin when Addy is right there on the other side of the door.
“Adelaide,” I gasp, clutching my purse to my chest. She’s in her PJs and carrying some of her belongings in her arms. “What are you doing here?”
“Thank God you’re alive,” Addy says, and I ignore the way she casts a disapproving look over me, in the way only an older sister knows how to do. “I’m not even going to ask, because I don’t want to know. And I hope you don’t mind, but I slept in your bed.”
“Um. Why?”
From over Addy’s shoulder, Melissa appears.
“I couldn’t find the keys for the handcuffs, so Hailey and Theo had to spend the night together, and .
. . Well . . .” With a bashful smile, her words trail off and she holds up a tiny metal key.
“I must have just been wasted and therefore visually impaired when I searched for them last night, because I just found the keys in my purse.”
“That’s hilarious,” I say, and also a relief that I’m not the only one on this bachelorette party who spent the night with a guy.
I’m now claiming Hailey as my partner in crime.
We can form an alliance as the only single gals on this trip, and even though she’s sharing a bed with my brother, I’ll hype her up all the way.
“I’m off to release them and get glammed up,” Addy says, taking the keys from Melissa. As she heads out the door, she calls back, “Eggslut at ten. Don’t be late!”
I turn apprehensively toward Melissa, wondering if she’s going to bombard me with questions about what exactly I got up to last night after I ditched her at the slot machines.
“I’m definitely getting old. I have a raging headache,” she says, much to my relief.
“When I was twenty-one, I could pound tequila slammers all night and feel as healthy as a horse the next day. Now? Yeah, you can definitely tell I’m a wife and a mother.
” She rubs her temples and takes long, deep breaths, and I wonder if she’s going to hurl.
“You sure you’re going to be able to survive this pool party?” I ask, eyeballing her with skepticism as I move past her toward my suitcase.
It’s going to be another long day of plowing through drinks, but perhaps worse than yesterday, because we’re going to be outdoors in the blazing sunshine, fighting off imminent dehydration.
I’m mostly just tired rather than hungover, but even I’m wondering if I’ve got the stamina for three whole days of boozing.
“I’ll survive the drinking,” Melissa says, “but the whole bikini thing? Yeah, not sure. I’m not ready to flaunt these C-section scars yet, so a swimsuit it is.”
“I’m pretty sure Addy’s wearing a one-piece, too,” I reassure her.
We fought over that damn one-piece a few nights ago when I helped her finalize her outfits for this weekend, because she had the most gorgeous ivory pearlized bikini that she looked insane in, yet she opted for some plain white swimsuit instead.
“I’m sure you’ll look great in whatever you wear. ”
The color code for today’s pool party is pink—except for Addy, of course, whose color code for the entire weekend is bridal white—so I grab my baby pink bikini out of my luggage and head for the shower.
Getting ready alongside Melissa isn’t too bad, except when she FaceTimes her husband and starts cooing to her daughter for ten sickly minutes while I’m fighting for my life trying to get my false lashes to actually stick to the inner corners of my eyelids.
It’s going to be hot out today, so I style my hair into cute space buns, throw some glitter down my parting, and then slather sun block over every inch of my skin.
Once I slip on a pair of wedge heels and wrap a sarong around my waist, I’m good to go.
Melissa and I knock on Addy and Hailey’s door next to ours, and they’re both ready, too.
Adelaide is as stunning as ever, with her blond hair curled into volumized, bouncy waves, make-up so flawlessly applied you would think a professional make-up artist had been called in, and expensive, understated gold jewelry styled beautifully.
The same bridal sash from yesterday sits over her chest. She used to fly off the handle at me for stealing clothes out of her closet and borrowing her make-up back before she moved out, but I copied her because I looked up to her.
I’ll always admire her—she’s my big sister.
“You’re going to be the most gorgeous bride,” I gush, and she flashes me a sheepish look and dismisses my compliment with a wave of her hand. As the four of us head for the elevators, I turn to Hailey. “How was your night with Theo?” I tease, wiggling my brows.
“Awful. Really, really bad,” Hailey immediately stammers. “Melissa, I seriously have a bone to pick with you for having that key in your purse the entire time. I barely slept all night, and I was starting to worry I’d have to shower with him this morning, and—”
“Relax. I’m just messing with you, Hailey,” I say, but the way she’s blushing . . . Suspicious.
Only once we have ridden the elevator down to the lobby, and Melissa and Hailey are walking a little ahead of us, do I reach out for Addy’s arm to pull her back.
“Did something happen between Theo and Hailey?” I ask in a hushed voice. Addy was the one who released the pair of them from their handcuffed nightmare, and I’m kind of curious what she walked in on this morning.
But she only laughs. “No chance. Stop being weird.”
“You stop being weird. You know he’s obsessed with her.”
“And he knows to leave her alone,” she fires back. “Hailey is not interested in Theo. She was so happy when I showed up with that key.”
“Whatever,” I say with a sigh, because clearly I am the only one with any intuition around here. No way is Hailey blushing this hard over a guy she’s not interested in, and I’m absolutely dying to meet up with the guys at breakfast to study the two of them together.
There’s already a line snaking down the corridor toward Eggslut when we arrive, but the bachelor party have beat us there, and are holding us a spot in line.
The very first person I lay eyes on is Theo, and rather than grinning at having spent the night with his long-time crush, he is .
. . Pissed. He steps out of line and strides toward us, eyes set only on me like a sniper.
“What’s wrong?” Addy asks with concern as he approaches.
“Ask Evie,” he snaps, then points an accusatory finger at me. “Why is your friend here?”
I physically move Theo out of my way so I can take a second look at the bachelor party. There’s Liam, there’s Connor, John, Tyler, and . . .
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I mutter, squeezing my eyes shut.
“Why did you invite that guy to join us? He just showed up and started chatting like he knows us. We’re all standing there confused as hell,” Theo rants, but it’s hard to take him seriously in his swim trunks and sliders.
“Wait. That’s who you spent the night with?” Addy asks, studying the new self-appointed member of Liam’s bachelor party. She spins on her heels, hands on her hips. “He’s old, Evelyn!”