The Wedding He Stole for Her Birthday - Chapter 3: Chapter 3

After speaking, I popped open the first liquor bottle and chugged it straight down. The alcohol burned like fire down my throat, making me cough violently.
Across from me, Alexander's face turned to stone, his eyes icing over. His jaw tightened as he snapped my name like a whip.
Determined not to let him weasel out, I clenched my teeth and powered through the allergic reaction making my skin crawl. By the third bottle, my legs turned to jelly and I slumped against the table for dear life.
Madeline inched closer, that fake concern plastered on her face. "Scarlett, if you can't handle it, maybe we should just call it quits?"
The smell of sage hit me like a punch to the gut - that same damn scent Alexander reeked of whenever he came home at dawn. I jerked away from her touch like she'd burned me. When I raised a shaky hand, she dramatically stumbled back like I'd shoved her.
Alexander caught her with those hero reflexes of his, his worried eyes eating up her performance. In the commotion, I lost my footing and crashed to the floor.
The room spun from the booze, but the searing pain in my palm brought me back fast. I'd landed right in broken glass - a jagged shard now buried deep in my hand, blood pooling around it. Madeline let out this Oscar-worthy gasp and melted into Alexander's arms.
As I watched him get ready to bail with her clinging to him like a limpet, I ignored the pain and dragged myself across the floor, grabbing his pant leg. "Alexander...you promised. Seven bottles left...I'll drink them all..."
He looked down at me like I was something he'd scraped off his shoe. "Give it up, Scarlett. After all this time being ghosted, I thought you'd get the hint. But no - you had to fake your mom's death to trap me into marriage. Let me spell it out: Madeline's birthday is in three days. Even if your mother's actually dying, she'll have to wait until Madeline's celebration is over."
With that nuclear bomb dropped, he walked out without a backward glance. Madeline's squad flocked to her while I lay there in the wreckage - broken glass, broken promises, broken me.
My allergy was closing my throat by the second. Gasping, I fumbled for my phone and hit redial.
When I came to, the cold IV drip grounded me - that steady beep proof I'd almost checked out for good. Bandages wrapped my hands, and my ride-or-die Amanda sat vigil, her face carved with worry.
The second I saw her, I shattered. "Amanda..." came out as a raspy whisper. She crushed me in a bear hug, crying and cursing me for playing Russian roulette with my life. The doctor had told her ten more minutes and I'd have suffocated from the reaction.
After the storm of tears passed, I spilled everything about Alexander. Amanda went nuclear, her rage echoing off the hospital walls. I stayed quiet, hollowed out.
The doctor's texts kept coming - Mom was getting worse. I'd always known this was coming, but knowing didn't make it easier. The only thing keeping her alive was wanting to see me happy...and I couldn't even give her that.
Amanda studied me carefully before dropping the bomb: "Remember Tristan? He's been waiting for you all these years."
His kind face flashed in my mind - those rare moments we'd shared still crystal clear. Before I could process, she barreled on: "If Alexander won't step up, we'll find someone who will. We can't let your mom go with regrets."
My impulsive best friend already had Tristan Walker on speed dial. My heart lodged in my throat. This was insane...but it was my last shot.
When his warm, nervous voice came through saying "Okay," I completely lost it. The dam broke and I sobbed like the world was ending.