Page 39 of All Bets Are Off

“I’ll survive the drinking,” Melissa says, “but the whole bikini thing? Yeah, not sure. I’m not ready to flaunt these C-section scars yet, so a swimsuit it is.”

“I’m pretty sure Addy’s wearing a one-piece, too,” I reassure her. We fought over that damn one-piece a few nights ago when I helped her finalize her outfits for this weekend, because she had the most gorgeous ivory pearlized bikini that she looked insane in, yet she opted for some plain white swimsuit instead. “I’m sure you’ll look great in whatever you wear.”

The color code for today’s pool party is pink—except for Addy, of course, whose color code for the entire weekend is bridal white—so I grab my baby pink bikini out of my luggage and head for the shower.

Getting ready alongside Melissa isn’t too bad, except when she FaceTimes her husband and starts cooing to her daughter for ten sickly minutes while I’m fighting for my life trying to get my false lashes to actually stick to the inner corners of my eyelids. It’s going to be hot out today, so I style my hair into cute space buns, throw some glitter down my parting, and then slather sun block over every inch of my skin. Once I slip on a pair of wedge heels and wrap a sarong around my waist, I’m good to go.

Melissa and I knock on Addy and Hailey’s door next to ours, and they’re both ready, too. Adelaide is as stunning as ever, with her blond hair curled into volumized, bouncy waves, make-up so flawlessly applied you would think a professional make-up artist had been called in, and expensive, understated gold jewelry styled beautifully. The same bridal sash from yesterday sits over her chest. She used to fly off the handle at me for stealing clothes out of her closet and borrowing her make-up back before she moved out, but I copied her because I looked up to her. I’ll always admire her—she’s my big sister.

“You’re going to be the most gorgeous bride,” I gush, and she flashes me a sheepish look and dismisses my compliment with a wave of her hand. As the four of us head for the elevators, I turn to Hailey. “How was your night with Theo?” I tease, wiggling my brows.

“Awful. Really, really bad,” Hailey immediately stammers. “Melissa, I seriously have a bone to pick with you for having that key in your purse the entire time. I barely slept all night, and I was starting to worry I’d have to shower with him this morning, and—”

“Relax. I’m just messing with you, Hailey,” I say, but the way she’s blushing . . . Suspicious.

Only once we have ridden the elevator down to the lobby, and Melissa and Hailey are walking a little ahead of us, do I reach out for Addy’s arm to pull her back.

“Did something happen between Theo and Hailey?” I ask in a hushed voice. Addy was the one who released the pair of them from their handcuffed nightmare, and I’m kind of curious what she walked in on this morning.

But she only laughs. “No chance. Stop being weird.”

“You stop being weird. You know he’s obsessed with her.”

“And he knows to leave her alone,” she fires back. “Hailey is not interested in Theo. She was so happy when I showed up with that key.”

“Whatever,” I say with a sigh, because clearly I am the only one with any intuition around here. No way is Hailey blushing this hard over a guy she’s not interested in, and I’m absolutely dying to meet up with the guys at breakfast to study the two of them together.

There’s already a line snaking down the corridor toward Eggslut when we arrive, but the bachelor party have beat us there, and are holding us a spot in line. The very first person I lay eyes on is Theo, and rather than grinning at having spent the night with his long-time crush, he is . . . Pissed. He steps out of line and strides toward us, eyes set only on me like a sniper.

“What’s wrong?” Addy asks with concern as he approaches.

“Ask Evie,” he snaps, then points an accusatory finger at me. “Why is your friend here?”

I physically move Theo out of my way so I can take a second look at the bachelor party. There’s Liam, there’s Connor, John, Tyler, and . . .

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I mutter, squeezing my eyes shut.

“Why did you invite that guy to join us? He just showed up and started chatting like he knows us. We’re all standing there confused as hell,” Theo rants, but it’s hard to take him seriously in his swim trunks and sliders.

“Wait. That’s who you spent the night with?” Addy asks, studying the new self-appointed member of Liam’s bachelor party. She spins on her heels, hands on her hips. “He’s old, Evelyn!”

“He’s only thirty-one,” I say defensively. Which I am aware is ten years older than me, but still. He’s not some middle-aged weirdo.

“And you invited him to breakfast?”

“I did not invite him. If you’re going to blame anyone for his arrival, blame Hailey and her itinerary.”

Hailey holds up her hands to proclaim her innocence and—shock!—Theo steps forward to protect her. “Her itinerary is not the reason you’ve found yourself a stalker. How do you always manage to get yourself into these situations? You have zero self-preservation skills.”

“Woah,” I say, blinking hard. And to think, Addy and Theo have no idea I have some maniac back at college threatening to ruin my education if I don’t pay off my debts. “First of all: Jameson is not a stalker. Second: what are these other situations you speak of? Third: stop being so mean to me.”

“Oh, c’mon, you guys,” Melissa says in a light, airy voice. “Evie has hit it off with someone, and maybe she wants to spend more time with him. We’re in Vegas! And we’ve already accepted you”—she gives Theo a pointed look—“and the rest of the bach party into our circle. What’s the harm in one more?”

“Thanks, Mel,” I say, hooking my arm around hers as I individually give Addy and Theo each the stink eye. At least someone around here has my back, even if it is only Addy’s college friend I barely know. “But also, it really isn’t like that. Let me go talk to him.”

I dash on ahead toward the bachelor party, who each look at me as if with a cry for help, except for Jameson, who smiles wide and cheerfully says, “Good morning!”

“You. Come with me,” I snap, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. Plucking him out of line, I drag him around the corner and look him up and down, instantly feeling the color drain from my face. There can only be one possible reason why he’s wearing swim trunks, too. “You are not coming to the pool party with us.”