Sophia Bennett

I stared at the whiskey bottle in my hand before setting it down heavily on the counter.

"That's the story of my life," I muttered bitterly.

The bartender glanced up from the glass he was polishing and studied me for a moment.

Honestly, I couldn't even remember how I had ended up there. The last thing I remembered was storming out of Ethan's apartment. After that, everything was a blur

I had planned to check into a hotel, lock myself inside a room, and spend the night alone. Instead, I somehow found myself sitting in a bar. Maybe it was because I didn't want to think. Maybe it was because I didn't want to cry. Or maybe I simply wanted something strong enough to numb the pain.

Whatever the reason, I had ordered the strongest whiskey they had. Now the bottle was almost empty. I lifted it and laughed humorlessly.

"My fiancé is gay."

The bartender paused. I pointed the bottle toward him.

"The man I was supposed to marry in five days is gay. Tell me, what would you do if you were me?"

The bartender carefully placed the glass down.

"I don't know," he admitted.

I sighed. "Neither do I."

My fingers tightened around the bottle.

At that moment, my phone rang. I groaned. Not now. Please, not now. I glanced at the screen.

Mom.

My stomach sank. I considered ignoring the call. Unfortunately, my finger betrayed me and pressed the answer button.

"Hello, Mom."

"What did I just hear?"

Her furious voice nearly made me pull the phone away from my ear.

"Ethan's family called me. They said you canceled the wedding."

I closed my eyes. "Mom-"

"Why would you do something so stupid five days before the wedding?"

My headache instantly returned. "Mom, he cheated on me."

Silence. For one brief second, I thought she understood. Then she spoke.

"So?"

I blinked.

"So?"

"Men cheat, Sophia." I froze. My heart sank.

"Excuse me?"

"Your father cheated on me. Do you think you're the first woman this has happened to? Marriage isn't perfect."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"He betrayed me."

"And?" Her voice sharpened.

"As long as he provides and takes care of you, what difference does it make?"

I stared at the bottle in front of me. The pain in my chest somehow grew worse.

Not because of Ethan. Because of her.

"Mom, I can't marry him."

"You can and you will."

"No."

"Then go apologize."

I almost laughed. Apologize? To Ethan?

The man who had lied to me for five years? "That's not happening." Her breathing became heavy.

For a moment neither of us spoke.

Then she muttered something under her breath. Something she probably didn't realize I heard.

"Ungrateful girl."

The words hit harder than Ethan's slap.

The line went dead. Slowly, I lowered the phone. The tears I had been fighting finally escaped.

I wasn't crying because of Ethan anymore.

I was crying because I suddenly felt completely alone.

The bartender quietly refilled my glass.

I emptied it in one gulp. Then another.

And another. Eventually, exhaustion settled over me. My eyes felt heavy. My body felt numb.

I reached into my purse and dropped several bills onto the counter.

"Keep the change."

The bartender looked concerned.

"Miss, are you sure you're okay?"

I laughed weakly. "Do I look okay?"

He didn't answer. I didn't wait for one.

Using the counter for support, I pushed myself to my feet and stumbled toward the reception desk.

"I need a room," I said.

The receptionist smiled politely. "Certainly, ma'am."

At that exact moment, another man approached the desk.

"I'm here on behalf of Mr. Damien Blackwood," he said. "I need the spare key to his suite."

The receptionist nodded and reached beneath the counter. She placed two key cards on the desk. The man quickly grabbed one. Without paying attention, I picked up the other. Everything felt blurry.

My vision wasn't cooperating. My brain wasn't cooperating. Nothing was cooperating. I simply wanted to sleep.

A few minutes later, I stepped into the elevator. The ride felt endless.

When the doors finally opened, I followed the numbers until I reached a room. My key card worked immediately. I stepped inside. The room was enormous. Far too luxurious for something I would have booked.

A living area. Expensive furniture. Floor-to-ceiling windows. I frowned.

"Definitely not what I paid for." Then I shrugged. Not my problem. I was too exhausted to care. I kicked off my shoes and headed toward the bed.

Just as I was about to collapse onto it, I heard the sound of running water. I paused.

The bathroom shower was on. Maybe housekeeping had forgotten something.

Maybe the previous guest had left it running.

At that moment, I honestly didn't care enough to investigate. I sat down on the edge of the bed. My eyes drifted shut.

A second later, something cold landed on my arm. Water.

Confused, I looked up. And froze. A man stood a few feet away. Fresh from the shower.

Water droplets glistened on his skin.

He looked equally shocked to see me.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

My exhausted brain struggled to process what I was seeing. Then one ridiculous thought entered my head.

Am I dreaming?

Am I having a wet dream?.