Page 50 of Marry Me Not
“C’mon, it doesn’t even need to be anything too scandalous,” Zo said. “Trust me, you don’t want to be going into your wedding night with zero momentum.”
“C’mon, Fabi. Live a little.” Cleo handed me another shot glass. “Bottoms up!”
I threw the shot back. Tequila blazed a trail down my throat.
Jesus. My head spun a little as I placed the glass down, but just then, an idea struck me like a bolt of lightning.
Send Cosimo a photo. Then delete it.
It was well past two in the morning. He was likely asleep at home. I could send the photo, show evidence to the girls, and then go straight to the bathroom and get rid of it.
He’d have no idea.
I grinned. Yep, it was brilliant. That prize was going to be mine.
“All right. Let’s do this.”
My friends cheered. I laughed. God, I loved these idiots.
Butt perched on the sofa, I held the phone in front of me and leaned forward. The white bodycon dress I wore had a low V-neck that showed off my cleavage. I opened my mouth, pressed an index finger to my bottom lip, and snapped it.
It was a good shot. Flattering. The kind of photo that made me look like someone who possessed a lot more confidence than I actually did.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I popped it into the chat I had going with Cosimo and pressed send.
Delivered.
Heat spread across the back of my neck.
Time for part two of the plan.
I held the phone out to Zo. “Happy?”
“You won the game!” Zo cheered. “Isn’t our bride-to-be so brave?” She got up onto the table in the center of the booth. “Come up here and dance to celebrate your victory!”
“I’ve got to pee! Where’s my prize?”
“It will reveal itself when the time is right,” she said mysteriously and handed me my purse. “Don’t take too long!”
“Not fair,” I said, rolling my eyes and shimmying out of the booth. Time was ticking. I had to get that photo deleted.
I rushed up the steps and turned down the dim hallway leading to the women’s bathrooms. The VIP area wasn’t that busy, so there was no line. I pushed inside and immediately opened my phone to the message app.
A few taps, and the photo was gone.
Mission accomplished.
I checked my reflection in the mirror to see if I needed to reapply my lipstick. Miraculously, it had held. I leaned in, plucking a stubborn piece of glitter from just below my eye.
Ping.
I looked down at my phone.
It was a text from Cosimo.
CHAPTER 17
COSIMO
