Page 1 of Meesha & Connor (What Happens In Vegas #2)

“You realize that’s over five thousand dollars, right?” Jessa’s voice pulls me back from the trance-like state I’ve been in, staring at the crystal-encrusted stilettos in the boutique window.

“The perfect Vegas souvenir.” I grin, mentally calculating if I should add them to my growing collection.

“Absolutely not,” Jessa says, tugging my arm. “We still have a dinner reservation at—”

“Oh, come on, just for a minute!” I pull free and dash into the boutique before she can protest further. The salesperson looks up as the bell chimes.

“Those Louboutins in the window. Do you have them in a seven?”

My stepmother, Carmen, would approve. She’s the one who taught me that quality purchases are investments, not splurges. I smile thinking about how she’d want photos immediately.

Carmen and her son Antonio had been in our lives for nearly fifteen years now. My father married Carmen a year after divorcing Mama. Antonio, two years my senior, had become the protective older brother, constantly checking if my fiancé Connor was “still treating my sister right.”

Ten minutes later, I’m strutting out with the stilettos on my feet. Jessa and Jasmine share identical expressions of disbelief.

“I can’t believe you just dropped five grand on shoes,” Jasmine mutters.

“Life’s too short for boring footwear,” I announce, twirling to show them off. “Besides, these babies will pay for themselves.” I link arms with my besties, pulling them close. “Now let’s go find trouble!”

Unlike my friends, I love to treat myself. I work hard for my money, so best believe I’ll spend it.

We pass a craps table where a crowd has gathered, their energy electric with anticipation. I slow, watching as a man in a sharp suit tosses the dice.

“No.” Jessa recognizes my expression. “Meesha, we have reservations.”

“Fine.”

We’re in Vegas for my bachelorette, though, my wedding is two months away. Jessa, an elementary school teacher, could only get Spring Break off. The the timing couldn’t have been better for escaping my pre-wedding jitters.

Vegas in March provided the perfect backdrop for my last hurrah as a single woman , even if my wedding to Connor wasn’t until May.

We settle at our table in the restaurant and the lights paint shadows across our faces. I order another martini, though I’m already feeling the effects of our day-drinking.

“So, I’m thinking we should do a Vegas-themed brunch when we get back,” I suggest, looking over the menu. “Recreate the amazing crepes from this morning.”

Jasmine nods enthusiastically while Jessa barely looks up from her phone.

As our appetizers arrive—crispy calamari and bruschetta that look too pretty to eat—I vent about the wedding prep swirling through my life lately.

“Vivienne texted me again about changing the flowers from hibiscus to roses because ‘they’re more traditional.’ As if I haven’t spent hours with the florist already!

Connor says to just ignore her, but she’s his mother and I’m trying so hard to be respectful.

” And I’d rather face a dragon than a displeased Vivienne. My peace, always my priority.

“I swear, planning this wedding is becoming a full-time job on top of my actual job, even while Asia is doing so much. And don’t even get me started on the bridesmaids’ dresses.

The sample color looked completely different in person than it did online, and now I’m wondering if we should start over with a new palette entirely.

What do you think about seafoam instead of teal? ”

I pause, noticing Jessa’s eyes still fixed on her phone screen, thumbs typing rapidly.

“Jessa! You’re not even listening.”

“Fine, you caught me.” She smiles, the same smile I’ve known since we were sharing crayons and juice boxes. “What about the wedding?”

I roll my eyes dramatically, and she meets my look with one of her own. Twenty-one years of friendship means Jessa has learned to deal with my moods.

“What? I multitask,” she says unapologetically, straightening the cocktail napkin under her glass.

I let out an exaggerated sigh. “You are so lucky I love you.”

The weight of Connor’s grandmother’s ring feels suddenly heavy on my finger. I twist it absently, remembering the look in his eyes when he proposed at Christmas while visiting Mama in Ruby Coast.

“I love you, too,” Jessa responds.

“Do you girls think Connor and I are moving too fast?”

“Fast? You’ve been together since you were sixteen!” Jasmine glances up from her phone.

Jasmine, our resident romance expert, always seems to know when conversations shift toward matters of the heart. I still remember how we bonded over a revenge plot in college, forming a friendship that outlasted the pain of betrayal.

“But he’s the only man I’ve ever kissed,” I whisper, conscious of dice rolling, cards shuffling, strangers celebrating wins and lamenting losses around us.

“The only one I’ve ever...” Slept with. I didn’t need to finish the sentence, because they knew.

“I can’t help feeling like I’m missing out on something. ”

And what if that was the problem? Not that Connor wasn’t amazing, but that he was all I knew.

All the good, all the bad, all the in-between, made up one beautiful, familiar man. Was there another ‘between’ I was supposed to explore?

Jasmine and Jessa exchange glances, and my stomach twists with guilt.

They’ve witnessed every milestone in my relationship with Connor.

From convincing my parents I wouldn’t stop seeing him when they believed his being eighteen and my sixteen wasn’t right, to our tearful goodbye when I left for college to our joyful reunion when I returned to Winter Bay after I graduated.

My coworker Kira showed me photos from her trip to Barcelona last month, laughing with a gorgeous Spanish guitarist she’d met at a café. The way she became animated when describing their three-day whirlwind romance made me yearn for that.

Connor and I have our vacation spots, our favorite restaurants, our books. But when was the last time we did something spontaneous? When we were teenagers, maybe. Before life became a perfectly planned timeline.

“That’s ridiculous, Meesha. You’ve found what most people spend their lives searching for. Don’t throw it away on a whim.”

“Have you told him how you feel?” Jasmine asks.

“It was hard enough admitting it to you two.” I fight back tears. “I don’t want him to think I’m ungrateful. I love him, I do. I just—” I swallow hard, the words catching in my throat. “I wonder if I should test the waters before diving all the way in.”

My phone vibrates, lighting up with Connor’s face. “It’s him,” I murmur, already reaching for it. “I should take this.”

I slide from my chair, phone pressed to my ear, my voice instantly brightening as I weave through the crowd. “Hey, baby...”

“Bonjour, ma belle.” Connor’s deep voice washes over me. “Guess where I am, là?”

“Please say you’re back in Winter Bay?” I lean against a wall, away from the noise.

“Oui. Just landed at Winter Bay Regional, me.”

My heart does a little flip. He was finally home after spending the past month in Quebec caring for his mother after her hip surgery. I hadn’t expected him back for another week at least and tell him as much.

“I missed you.” The smile in his voice is audible. “How’s the bachelorette extravaganza going, eh?”

“It’s been amazing,” I say, glancing back at Jessa and Jasmine, who are talking amongst themselves. Probably about what I just said. “We fly back tomorrow night.”

“Good, because one month away from you is too much. I don’t know how I did it when you were at college.” There’s a pause. “Oh, and I have a confession to make.”

“A confession?” My stomach tightens.

“I finished ‘The Silent Patient’ on the flight, calisse. I know we were supposed to read it together, but j’étais tellement ennuyé—I was so bored and I couldn’t stop once I got to the twist.”

My jaw drops. “Connor Beauregard! You did not just break our sacred book pact!” Our shared reading ritual had sustained us through four years of long-distance while I was at college. Even now, four years after graduation, we’d maintained our tradition.

“Ben, j’suis désolé! But that ending—”

“Don’t you dare spoil it!” I interrupt, fighting a smile. “I’m still halfway through.”

“Mes lèvres sont scellées until you finish. My lips are sealed. But you’re going to freak out.”

I shake my head; the brief moment of worry evaporates. The doubts that have plagued me since I accepted his proposal suddenly seem ridiculous.

“I’ll be in the suite!” I tell my friends, approaching our table. “Connor wants to see the room.”

I don’t miss the look they exchange before I head toward the elevators. Connor excitedly talks about the story without bringing up spoilers, and I find myself smiling despite his betrayal.

“You owe me big time for cheating on me,” I warn him playfully.

“Name your price, future Mrs. Beauregard,” he responds, and just like that, the doubt retreats another step.

I end the call with Connor after two hours and stare at my reflection in the hotel mirror. My lash extensions frame dark brown eyes, tinted moisturizer gives my skin a natural glow, and my black bob lies perfectly sleek against my neck.

Earlier, Jessa and Jasmine had bailed on me, their messages in our group chat vaguely mentioning a “meeting at the hotel bar” without specifying which one.

I hold white jeans against one hip, black against the other. White wins tonight. They complement my mocha skin perfectly and make my ass look fuller. I pair them with a backless blush pink blouse.

When I slide the crystal stilettos onto my feet, a childlike glee washes over me. They transform my posture, my confidence, my entire aura. Worth every penny.

“Time to find my friends,” I tell my reflection, grabbing my clutch.

The hallway breathes with distant music, laughter, and the faint ring of slot machines rising from below. The elevator descends in a smooth glide, opening to the main floor where the casino’s heartbeat pulses stronger.

Perfume mingles with cologne and the faint tang of alcohol as bodies weave through the space. I send another message to our group chat. No response.

They’re not at the first bar I pass by or the next. I move on, following the sound of livelier music.

I enter the next lounge, where chandeliers splash golden light across the crowd. I’m scanning for Jessa and Jasmine when someone bumps me from behind, sending me off-balance.

“Damn—” The curse cuts short.

I turn to find myself face-to-face with a man whose brown hair falls in tousled waves, and his fitted henley reveals broad shoulders and strong arms. When his striking blue-gray eyes meet mine, I stammer an apology.

He looks at me, forcing a pained smile through perfect teeth. “No worries. I’m fine.”

I stare at his loafer where my heel left a divot. “You are definitely not fine. I impaled your foot.”

His hand closes around my wrist briefly. “Look.” He takes a few steps. “All good.” His eyes drop to my shoes. “Though I’ve never been attacked with such spectacular weaponry.”

“Just bought them today,” I admit, angling my foot so we both get a better view of them. “Couldn’t resist.”

“I can see why.” He gestures toward the bar with a charming tilt of his head. “You could buy me a drink though—you know, for pain and suffering.”

I almost refuse, then change my mind. I would stay here until someone responded in the group chat. “Sure.”

His face lights up. “Great. I’m Dennis.”

“Meesha,” I offer.

In a plush booth near the bar, Dennis orders a white Russian. I’ve never had one but say, “Same.”

“Meesha’s a beautiful name,” he says, leaning forward. “Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

I snort. “Wow. Did you practice that line in the mirror?”

“Your beauty short-circuits my brain.” He grins. “Cut me some slack.”

Raising my hand, I flash my engagement ring. “Taken. Sorry to disappoint.”

“Crushed,” he says dramatically.

The white Russian arrives—creamy sweetness with a vodka kick. “This is actually good.”

“Also dangerous if you’re not used to them,” he warns.

“Please. I’m not some amateur.” I take a bigger sip.

“My phone died. Can I borrow yours to text my buddy?”

I hesitate, my fingers tightening around my clutch. But Dennis is staring at me expectantly, and I didn’t want to make the moment awkward.

“Sure,” I say, fishing out my phone and handing it over. “I should probably find my friends too. They’re around here somewhere.”

Dennis takes it with a quick nod, his fingers moving rapidly across the screen. He angles my phone away as he types before handing it back with a grin. “Thanks. Guess it’s the night of disappearing friends.”

“Tell me about it.” I sigh, glancing around the crowded bar.

The room begins to feel warm. Dennis slides to my side of the booth, thigh pressing against mine. “Couldn’t hear you over there.”

I take another sip and lean back. “You know what’s crazy?” Words tumble out. “Most girls my age are living it up, dating around, but I’m marrying my high school boyfriend. What kind of boring life choice is that?”

“You tell me,” Dennis says, his voice a pleasant rumble.

“Look at my parents, for instance. They were together throughout high school and then had me. When I was ten, they suddenly decided they shouldn’t be together.

They stayed together all those years because I anchored them.

” I turn to face him, our faces inches apart.

“What if I’m marrying Connor because I’m accustomed to him? He’s all I know.”

His gaze drops to my lips. “I want to kiss you.”

A forbidden excitement runs through me. “What?”

He leans in, pressing his mouth to mine. His lips are soft, tasting of white Russian. My hands move to his arms, feeling firm muscle beneath his shirt. I kiss him back, curiously.

Then reality crashes in like ice water.

I pull back, horrified. “I’m engaged.”

“You’re not married yet,” he whispers.

His lips find mine again. I wait for fireworks, butterflies and earth-moving justification.

Nothing. Not just nothing, but a terrifying absence of the very newness I’d foolishly chased.

The kiss leaves me completely cold. I pull away, stomach lurching violently as reality crashes down.

What have I done?