Page 13 of The Marriage Mistake

“NO. No way. When have we ever had just one drink together?”

“But you’re gettingmarried!” Becky pipes up. “We have to go get a drink. We’ll keep it tame, Sammi. Scout’s honor.”

I know damn well she was never a girl scout.

Just as I know that this is a terrible idea. For some reason, whenever I get around these three, I damn near lose my mind.

I shake my head again. “Nope. Not gonna happen.”

Mysti groans from across the table.

“Look,” Percy says, all business now, “nobody wants a repeat of Vegas. That’s not gonna happen. We just want to have one last drink with you as a single woman. One teeny little drink. What’s the harm in that?”

Fucking temptress. No wonder she has billionaires eating out of her hand around the globe.

Any other time, I can resist her. When she uses her serious voice, though, it’s so hard to argue.

“Fine.” I say, dramatically hanging my head in defeat. “Fine, fine, fine.”

I hear them cheer. Not my intended reaction.

I snap my head up, “ONE. DRINK.” I accentuate the statement by holding a single finger up. “One. Okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. One drink. No more.” Mysti says, sounding wholly unconvincing.

“I’m serious.”

“We know!” Percy says.

I push my chair back and stand.

Not a moment later, Becky’s tiny hand clasps around mine. I barely have time to grab my purse, before I’m being dragged toward the exit.

“Aw, cheer up,” she says. “Everything’s perfect. It’s gonna be great.”

I mumble under my breath. Something vague about terrible friends.

“What?” she asks.

“Isaid, one—”

“One drink! WE KNOW!”

She drags me out into the humid air, my heels clacking against the sidewalk.

I remember thinking, once again, that this is a bad idea.

It’s just one drink, though. One fucking drink—for real this time.

I mean, how bad can one drink be?

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