And maybe she is.
Because tonight, under neon lights and with zero apologies, she’s magic.
The ride back is a slow unraveling of glitter, cocktails, and whatever dignity we left at Thunder Down Underneath.
Leilani is the first to fold… as she should.
She slides into the seat beside me, her dress wrinkled, lipstick smudged, and eyes wide and glassy with tequila truth serum. “I love you,” she slurs, leaning her head on my shoulder. “I’d marry you if Alex hadn’t gotten there first.”
I laugh, tipping my head against hers. “You’ll make someone a great wife one day.”
“Damn right I will. I’d only throat-punch him as a warning if he snores like a chainsaw. I’ll let him think he’s the big spoon—even when he totally isn’t. And if I’m mad, I’ll only shave one leg—because that’s compromise.”
Her grin widens, and I laugh, but she’s just warming up.
She leans forward. “For the right man, I’d wreck this body for babies—let my tits go south to feed his kids, swap a designer clutch for a diaper bag. I’ll do all the damn things.”
She’s being funny, but something tells me she means every word. “You sound ready to commit.”
“Here’s my level of commitment. I’d walk away from a buffet of top-shelf, commitment-phobic dick and lock in with one man for life. No take-backs.”
The party bus goes silent for a beat. Then we all burst into laughter.
I choke on my drink. “That’s pretty bold.”
She grins. “I’m ready to give up the dick train for the right person.”
Before I can answer, she sits up fast—too fast—and fumbles for her purse.
“Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Don’t do it, Lei,” Sefina says.
Leilani fumbles with her clutch, flips it open, and hunches over—using it as a makeshift barf bag without a second thought. It’s horrifying, and a little impressive, but mostly horrifying.
“Oh my God, Lei. Are you all right?”
She waves me off, dignity abandoned somewhere back at the club. “Well, damn. That was a character-building experience.”
Krishna counts us beneath her breath, managing us like a kindergarten field trip. “Everyone’s here?”
Leilani moans and stretches out on the seat, putting her head in my lap. “If I die tonight, tell my tina I went out hot. She’d want to know I looked amazing on my way out.”
“You’re not dying, Lei,” I tell her. “Drunk and dramatic? Absolutely, but you’re not dying.”
I glance around at the chaos—half-eaten snacks, empty flutes rolling on the floor, a pair of glitter-covered high heels lying in the middle of the floor.
It’s a mess. A beautiful, unforgettable, soul-lifting mess. These women—this wild, hilarious, chaotic circle of mine—are everything to me.
And it’s my special night. I wouldn’t trade this night—or these girls—for anything.
By the time we stumble into the suite at the hotel, my cheeks hurt from laughing and my feet ache.
Everyone’s crashing in different places—Violet’s face down on a chaise, Leilani is curled up with a trash bin as if it’s her boyfriend, and someone’s shoes ended up in the minibar.
I toe off my heels and slip into the quiet bedroom. I collapse onto the bed, veil crooked and makeup half melted.
My phone buzzes.
Hope your girls didn’t get you arrested. Love you, almost-wife.
