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Chapter 2
Sammi
5:49 AM FRIDAY
It’s so early in the morning that it’s still dark out and I don’t have a care in the goddamn world.
I love waking up early. I love the way the world is quiet and still and how the day is still tidy and clean.
I love tidy. I adore clean.
I love the feeling that everything is in order—nothing is a disaster, my life is completely sorted, and the day is bursting with the potential to be fucking great.
Of course, the Queensland heat leaves a lot to be desired. Cairns is fucking humid this time of the year—maybeeverytime of the year—and it’s left my long, dark hair billowing around my head like a crown made of clouds.
I guess it’s just preparation for Bangkok, where from past experiences, I know the heat and humidity will be even worse.
It’s been three years since I’ve been in Bangkok, and frankly, that’s probably for the best. The last time I was there, I got so fucking drunk that I didn’t even remember what hotel I was staying in—let alone what I got up to the night before.
It gives me a headache just fucking thinking about it. As I sit in the back of the cab to the airport, I can at least be sure of one thing: getting blackout drunk in the Las Vegas of the East is never fucking happening again.
I used to be a party girl. Hell, sometimes, I still am. They called me Slammin’ Sammy B., and when unleashed on a frat kegger with my BFFs, I had some of the best times that I’ll never remember.
But that shit is behind me now. My last trip to Las Vegas for my BFF Becky’s wedding taught meexactlyhow behind me all of that is. I think it took me a month to recover from that hangover alone.
And now that the BFFs and I are reuniting in Bangkok for my own wedding, one thing’s for sure: what happened in Vegas can never happen again.
The cab takes a turn to get onto the freeway, and my phone lights up on my lap with a big, goofy picture of Becky’s adorable, little face.
“Heya, Becks,” I say, answering the video call. “Pretty early for you, isn’t it?”
A redheaded beauty in a pristine hotel suite grins back at me on the screen of my phone.
“Sams! Oh, my god, don’t even worry about it. Liam and I, uh…we haven’t gotten any sleep yet, if you know what I mean.”
In the background, Becky’s scruffy-looking husband accidentally walks into the frame. He’s wearing a lot less than he ought to be—but good looking as he is, he’s way too British for my taste.
“Ah, bugger,” Liam swears, noticing Becky on video chat and his own state of undress in rapid succession. “Wotcher, Sammi! Apologies for—er. The lack of trousers.”
Becky throws a pillow at her husband and his dangling manhood, then giggles at me, looking well-fucked.
“So, we’ve got your bridal suite here at Liam’s new hotel all ready for you,” Becky reassures me. “We’ll go out for drinks after your award ceremony tonight, then tomorrow night’s the wedding.”
“You’re telling me all this like I don’t already have it down in my planner,” I say, smiling a little. “No drinks, though. We both remember what happened last time.”
Becky’s a walking disaster, but when it comes to party planning, she’s on top of things. Not that my wedding will be much of a party—after what happened in Vegas at Becky’s wedding, I’ve chosen something very down-to-earth and chill.
“Hey,” Becky pouts. “Vegas went okay!”
“You ended up married to your fiancé’s evil stepbrother,” I laugh.
“Yeah,” Becky says dreamily. “And he fucks like a dream. If you don’t want drinks though—”
I can tell Becky’s about to start pouting, but then my phone rings again.
Saved by the bell.
“Gotta go, Becks. Love!” I say, hanging up and switching over to a call from Percy, my curvaceous, blonde BFF.
