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“That’s nonsense.” I cross my heart like I used to when I was a child and she was babysitting. “I promise to be on my best behavior. You don’t have to worry about me.” I shrug with feigned nonchalance, masking what could be my best move yet.
“But you were dumped, and now you’re unemployed,” Lou says, squeezing my hand, eyes searching mine.
“I’m fine,” I assure her. “It’s not like life has ended. If anything, I don’t have to deal with Reginald and the crappiest sex of my life anymore.” I take a long sip, finishing my drink. “I might find someone who’s actually good in bed and can give me an orgasm. Or two.”
Lou cringes, leaning in to hiss, “Use your indoor voice, please,” under her breath.
I erupt in uncontrolled laughter, the sound bubbling out. Okay, I might be a little tipsy and should restrain myself. But instead, I impulsively gulp Lou’s drink in one swallow.
No one can blame me for drinking myself stupid. I have a lot to think about this weekend, and I just don’t have the bandwidth for any of it. I’m twenty-nine without a clear direction on what I want to do with my life, and a family that’s too self-involved to even see that I’m a little lost. I know Lou is trying to help, but she’s more likely just trying to make sure I don’t shirk my duties and leave everything to her.
A reckless idea occurs to me: what if, instead of going to Vermont to convince my estranged grandmother to leave, I’m the one who disappears?
I could sell my condo and leave Boston, sever all ties. Become someone new out west. McKay Margaret McFolley could vanish into anonymity.
Lou gently shakes her head, wordlessly disapproving as the bartender closes our tab with her credit card. “Don’t tempt fate,” she orders sternly. “Go home.”
A sigh spills from my lips. “Alright, fine, I won’t do anything crazy,” I concede, a small grin tugging at the corners of my mouth.
Lou responds with an exaggerated eye roll, knowing her little sister might do something reckless. She slips away, rushing through the busy tables and out of the bar.
Alone now, I turn to the bartender. “You know what I need?”
He quirks an eyebrow.
“To get laid.” The words leave me recklessly before I clap a hand over my mouth, eyes wide. Seriously, what is wrong with me tonight? I should go home and sober up before I do something stupid.
As if summoned, a man slides onto the stool beside me. “Well, hello there,” he says, his voice low and gravelly.
I’m momentarily stunned by his rugged handsomeness—sun-kissed hair. He’s casual yet sexy. His brown eyes meet mine, sparking a jittery feeling in my stomach. A subtle smile teases at his lips, sending my pulse racing. Tall and muscular with broad shoulders and biceps straining against his shirtsleeves. His self-assured stance radiates a quiet strength that makes my knees weak.
The smirk, though … that smirk seems to promise something more. Maybe this will be the rebellious thing I’ll do instead of telling my grandmother to ignore her son. But can I jump into bed with a stranger?
One reckless night to break free from expectations? Or will I listen to my doubts and go home alone?
ChapterTwo
Bishop
My weekend has takenan unexpected turn. What happened to the good old bachelor parties from my twenties? We used to barhop from dusk till dawn, soaking up the Vegas lights and the teasing temptations of the strip clubs. It was a carefree time of indulgence and fleeting connections, igniting as quickly as they fizzled out. A weekend of reckless ecstasy always ending with a goodbye and a smile.
But that was then. Now, at thirty-five, every bachelor party I’m invited to ends up being a bust. Take last year for example. Last year, my best friend Landon was finally marrying my little sister. I wasn’t expecting a strip club extravaganza, but at least a night out in New York or Boston. Instead, we went camping. Don’t get me wrong, it was an enjoyable time, but still not what I had envisioned for a proper bachelor party send-off.
This weekend was my college roommate’s bachelor party. I was certain we’d be barhopping or revisiting our favorite old strip club. Hell, it used to be his go-to spot back in college. But nope. We ended up at some complex with axe-throwing, mini-golf, and laser tag. The whole thing had a Chuck E. Cheese vibe, right down to the pizza slices.
I have to ask again: what the fuck happened to the good old-fashioned bachelor parties that pushed boundaries and blurred the lines between good and fucking amazing? The kind filled with reckless indulgence and carefree bliss?
Maybe I’m just getting old, but it seems those days are gone for good.
Frustration knots within me as I leave the complex. I don’t want to return to the confines of my hotel room yet. Tomorrow, I have to drive back home, and I want to release some of this pent-up energy before then. I venture out for a stroll through the bustling streets of Boston, hoping the city lights and energy will spark something in me.
A quaint bar and grill draws me in, maybe for a drink, a bite … and hopefully, someone I can meet for the night.
As I slide onto a stool, the woman beside me yells, “To get laid.”
My ears perk up. That’s exactly what I need—a night with someone new, no strings attached. Just a fun connection, nothing more.
“Well, hello there,” I greet her with a grin.
