Page 10 of Meesha & Connor (What Happens In Vegas #2)

The sound of my phone vibrating against the nightstand pulls me from a fitful sleep. I blink in the darkness, disoriented. I don’t know what time it is.

What the hell?

I bolt upright, my heart suddenly pounding. Has something happened to Connor?

My fingers tremble as I scroll through the notifications. There are calls from all three of my parents, Jasmine, Jessa and Antonio. Text after text asking variations of, What happened? Are you okay? Call me .

My stomach drops as my phone vibrates again with an incoming call from Jessa. I swipe to answer, my voice thick with sleep and tears.

“Hello?”

“Meesha! Finally! Where have you been? I’ve been calling for hours.”

“I just woke up,” I manage, reaching to turn on the bedside lamp. The empty space beside me comes into sharp focus. “What’s going on? Why is everyone calling me?”

There’s a pause on Jessa’s end. “Connor sent an email at 7 AM to everyone. He canceled the wedding, Meesh.”

The room seems to tilt beneath me. “He what?”

“The email just said that due to unforeseen circumstances, the wedding is canceled. He apologized for the inconvenience and said all gifts would be returned.” Jessa’s voice softens. “What happened? You two seemed fine at the party until you suddenly disappeared.”

I press my hand against my mouth, trying to contain the sob building in my chest. I can’t tell her about Dennis. Not yet. Not when I can barely process it myself.

“We had a fight,” I say, the half-truth burning my tongue. “A bad one.”

“A fight bad enough to cancel your wedding?” Jessa sounds incredulous. “Meesh, what’s really going on?”

“Everyone’s worried,” Jessa continues. “Your mom called me an hour ago in a panic. She thought maybe you’d been in an accident since neither you nor Connor was answering.”

I open my email app with trembling fingers, and there it is.

Dear Friends and Family,

Due to unforeseen circumstances, the wedding scheduled for May 17th has been canceled. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause.

All expenses incurred for the occasion will be reimbursed promptly.

Sincerely,

Connor Beauregard

“I need to talk to him.” I hang up on Jessa and try Connor. Straight to voicemail.

I leave a message. “Connor, please call me back. We need to talk about this. You can’t just—” I stop, swallowing hard. “Please don’t throw away everything we have. I love you.”

My eyes land on Connor’s formal email signature at the bottom of his message, complete with his company logo and professional title. I let out a sudden, strangled laugh.

“He used his work email,” I say aloud to the empty room, a bizarre bubble of hysteria rising in my chest. “He cancels our wedding with his corporate email template.”

The laughter dies as quickly as it came, dissolving into tears that burn my eyes.

My phone pings with texts from Antonio.

Mom’s freaking out. What’s happening?? Call her!!!

From Jasmine.

Are you okay? Where are you?

From Antonio.

Connor’s not answering either. Talk to us, Meesha.

Pressing my palms against my eyes, I try to stem fresh tears. How did everything fall apart so completely in less than twelve hours?

I call Jessa back. “I’ll send my location. I need a ride.”

“We’re on our way.”

I move to the bathroom to splash water on my face, trying to compose myself before Jessa arrives. In the mirror, I see swollen eyes, disheveled braids and the same dress from last night’s party.

The memory of Connor walking out the door replays in my mind, and the image of his back retreating into the rain sears into my memory.

For ten years, I’ve loved him, planned a future with him, believed we were unbreakable. Now, in the cold light of morning, I face the possibility that I’ve destroyed the one relationship I cherished most with thirty seconds of weakness.

As I wait for Jessa to arrive, I send Connor a text.

I understand you’re angry. I deserve that. But please don’t make permanent decisions based on temporary pain. I love you. I’ve always loved you. I will always love you. Please talk to me.

Jessa leans against her kitchen counter, arms crossed as she hands me a mug of strong black coffee. Her apartment has a homey feel, though with not a single item out of place.

“So let me get this straight,” she says. “You kissed a stranger in Vegas. Didn’t tell Connor. Now, this same guy shows up in Winter Bay, crashes Kamal’s party, and tells Connor everything?” She raises an eyebrow. “And you’re absolutely certain you only met this man once?”

Jasmine, perched cross-legged on Jessa’s pristine white couch, gives me a sympathetic look. “What Jessa means is that his behavior seems extreme for someone you barely know.”

“That’s exactly what scares me,” I admit, clutching the coffee. “I spoke with him for maybe an hour total. The whole interaction was so brief and meaningless I convinced myself it wasn’t worth telling Connor about.”

Jessa’s gaze hasn’t softened. “And now this man has followed you to Winter Bay, and he’s trying to insert himself into your life. This isn’t just about a kiss anymore, Meesha. This is concerning behavior.”

“I know.”

Jasmine tucks her legs underneath her, leaning forward. “Have you thought about contacting the police?”

“And tell them what? That a man I kissed once showed up in town?” I rub my temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “They’d tell me there’s nothing they can do without more evidence of threatening behavior.”

“She’s right.” Jessa nods. “Unfortunately, the law requires more than just uncomfortable encounters.”

Jasmine moves to sit beside me, her hand gentle on my arm. “You couldn’t have known he’d follow you here, Meesha. This isn’t your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” I look between my two closest friends. “If I hadn’t kissed him in the first place—”

“Stop,” Jessa interrupts, surprising me with her firmness. “Did you make a mistake? Yes. Does that mistake justify someone tracking you down in another State? Absolutely not.” She sets her mug down. “Your kiss didn’t cause his behavior. His obsession did.”

Jasmine nods in agreement. “Jessa’s right. This man’s actions are his responsibility alone.”

“But Connor—” My voice breaks.

“Connor is hurt,” Jasmine says gently. “That’s understandable. But we’ve got two separate problems now. Your relationship and this stalker.”

Jessa moves to her laptop on the dining table, the breeze ruffling papers as she opens a window. “While we’re figuring out how to handle this Dennis situation, we should also address the wedding cancellation email. Everyone’s worried sick.”

The mention of the email ignites something in me. My fingers dig into the couch cushion.

“You know what? Part of this is on him,” I snap. “Yes, I made a mistake. A terrible one. But he could have at least had the decency to talk to me before announcing it to the world!”

I grab a decorative pillow from the couch and squeeze it tightly. “He knows how I feel about public humiliation, and he chose the most embarrassing way possible to end things. An email to everyone we know!” My voice rises with each word.

Jasmine and Jessa exchange surprised glances at my outburst. The anger burns hot and fast, leaving me suddenly empty as I sink back onto the couch.

“And yet,” I whisper, “I’d forgive all of it if he’d just talk to me again.”

“Look at me, Meesha,” Jessa says. “I understand you’re hurt and embarrassed. But Connor is also hurt and embarrassed. The man who’s loved you for ten years just found out you kissed someone else and kept it from him for weeks.”

My shoulders slump. “You’re right,” I whisper, my anger giving way to shame. I stare at my hands, now still in my lap. “I don’t know what to tell my family,” I admit. “Maybe I could just say we’re postponing, not canceling?”

Jessa raises an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. “And when they ask why?”

“I could say we... had different visions for our future?” The lie tastes sour even before I’ve spoken it aloud. “Or maybe just tell them Connor needs space to work through some personal issues.”

“Meesha,” Jasmine says gently, “you know that will only make things harder later.”

I drop my head into my hands. “I know. I just—I wish I could wake up tomorrow and this whole situation would have magically resolved itself. That Connor would forgive me, Dennis would disappear, and no one would ever need to know what happened.”

“Maybe it’ll happen,” Jessa points out.

I look between them, overwhelmed by their unwavering support despite the mess I’ve created. “What if he doesn’t forgive me? What if I’ve lost him for good?”

Jasmine takes my hand. “Connor loves you, Meesha. That doesn’t just disappear overnight. Give him time to process everything.”

“You don’t understand. He’s living with his ex now. They’re probably resuming their relationship as we speak. I can’t lose him. I can’t.”

Jasmine tightens her grip on my hand as the first tear falls. “Breathe, Meesh. Connor’s not getting back with Frédérique. That’s irrational fear talking.”

I try to respond, but my chest suddenly feels too tight, like someone’s wrapping steel bands around my lungs. The room starts to blur as my breathing becomes shallow and quick.

“Meesha?” Jessa’s voice sounds distant as she moves quickly from her laptop.

“I can’t—” My words come out as a gasp. “I can’t breathe.”

Jasmine immediately shifts closer. “You’re having a panic attack. Focus on my voice.”

I nod frantically, my hands trembling so badly that coffee sloshes over the rim of my mug. Jessa takes it from me before I can spill it everywhere.

“I’ve got you,” Jasmine says, taking both my hands in hers. “Breathe with me. In for four counts, hold for seven, out for eight.”

I try to follow her instructions, but my lungs seem to have forgotten how to function. Black spots dance in my vision as my heart hammers painfully against my ribs.

“He’s gone,” I manage between gasps. “Ten years, and he just... walked away. What am I going to do? What am I—”

“First, you’re going to breathe,” Jessa says, her usual directness softened with concern. She sits beside me, her hand on my back. “Right now, that’s your only job.”

Jasmine continues counting breaths, her voice calm as the room spins around me. “In, two, three, four. Hold two, three, four, five, six, seven. Out, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.”

Jessa’s hand moves in slow circles between my shoulder blades. “Remember when I had that meltdown before my master’s program interview? You sat with me for three hours while I convinced myself I’d never get accepted.”

I manage a jerky nod, focusing on the memory.

“You told me that no matter what happened with the interview, my worth wasn’t tied to their decision,” Jessa continues softly. “The same is true for you, Meesh. Your worth isn’t tied to Connor or this relationship.”

“But he’s—” My voice catches on another sob. “He’s my everything.”

“He’s not,” Jasmine corrects. “He’s someone you love deeply, but he’s not your whole world. You’re Meesha Williams. A brilliant nurse, devoted daughter, loyal friend, pesky sister.”

Jessa squeezes my shoulder. “The woman who proofread my entire application essay at three in the morning. Who helped me prepare for every single interview question.”

“The friend who listens to all my character ideas even when they made no sense,” Jasmine adds with a small smile.

My breathing begins to slow as they continue, their voices gradually pulling me back from the edge.

“You’re the only person who’ll accompany me to country music concerts,” Jessa says.

“The one who leaves thoughtful comments on every chapter draft without fail,” Jasmine smiles.

“The friend who celebrated with me when I got my teaching position.”

“Who knows exactly when to push and when to listen.”

As they speak, the vise around my chest gradually loosens. I take a full breath for the first time in minutes, the oxygen clearing some of the fog from my mind.

“There you go,” Jasmine murmurs, still holding my hands. “Keep breathing just like that.”

Jessa disappears briefly, returning with a cool washcloth, pressing it against the back of my neck. The sensation grounds me further, pulling me fully back into the moment.

“Thank you.” My voice is hoarse.

“Don’t thank us,” Jessa says, with her usual briskness. “Just promise you’ll eat something. You look terrible.”

A startled laugh escapes me. “Thanks a lot.”

“She’s right though,” Jasmine says, tucking a stray braid behind my ear. “When’s the last time you ate?”

I try to remember. “Yesterday? Before the party, maybe?”

Jessa is already moving toward her kitchen. “I’m making breakfast. Jasmine, get her some water. And then we’re going to figure this out. One step at a time.”