The Promotion

Chapter Thirty-Three

"Okay, girls, listen up!" Sarah shouted over the pounding bass, clapping her hands to get everyone's attention. "Tonight is Louisa's last free night. After tomorrow, she's officially off the market — a married woman. So, to Louisa, and her new life with her soon-to-be husband, Calum!"

She raised her glass of prosecco a little too enthusiastically, spilling some onto the table. The girls around us laughed and followed her lead, clinking glasses, cheering loudly.

I lifted my own glass — a virgin mojito — forcing a smile and nodding along. I'd deliberately avoided alcohol tonight. I knew myself too well. One drink would turn into several, and by morning I'd wake up with a pounding headache and blurred memories — memories I couldn't afford to lose.

I scanned the table, watching the girls laugh freely, drink recklessly, carefree and loud. This wasn't what I wanted. I'd begged Sarah to keep things low-key, maybe a dinner, a quiet night in. Instead, she'd dragged me to one of the loudest clubs in the city, convinced this was what a bride-to-be needed.

Finding something to wear had been a battle in itself. In the end, Sarah had chosen for me — a red body-con mini dress with a thigh-high slit and a daring cut-out just beneath my chest. The thin cami straps dug into my shoulders, threatening to snap if I breathed too deeply. My caramel-coloured hair was curled loosely and left down, cascading over my shoulders — something I rarely did, but Sarah insisted.

The music thumped relentlessly, vibrating through the floor and straight into my bones. Around the table, Sarah, her sister, and her friends downed drinks and ordered more without hesitation. Their laughter rang out above the music, sharp and carefree.

I should have been the happiest one there.
I should have been glowing.

Instead, my thoughts drifted far from the flashing lights and pulsing music. The noise dulled, fading into the background as I stared into nothingness, my mind replaying moments I didn't want to think about — moments I couldn't forget.

Sarah leaned into me suddenly, laughing loudly, snapping me back to reality. I laughed too, a little too forcefully, hoping no one noticed how far gone I'd been.

I picked up my phone, scrolling mindlessly. Without really thinking, my thumb hovered... then typed.

L: Meet me at Club Electra.

The moment I hit send, my stomach dropped.

What are you doing?

I slapped my phone onto my lap, mortified by my own impulsiveness. To distract myself, I reached for a glass of prosecco — breaking the promise I'd made to myself — lifting it toward my lips.

Before I could drink, my phone buzzed.

My heart jolted.

I put the glass down and grabbed my phone, my breath hitching when I saw his name.

A: I'll be there in thirty minutes.

No hesitation. No questions.

My lips curved into a small, traitorous smile.

Seeing him the day before my wedding was a terrible idea. I knew that. But the pull toward him felt stronger than reason, stronger than guilt. I wanted him there. I wanted to see him — even if it hurt.

The next thirty minutes crawled. I checked my phone obsessively, tapped my fingers against the table, bounced my leg nervously beneath it.

Another buzz.

A: I'm outside. Meet me at the entrance.

My heart fluttered painfully.

"I'm just going to the bathroom," I shouted over the music, already standing. Sarah waved me off without question.