Alexa raised a mojito in a toast. “Love sucks.”
Nat sat next to her at the square, white linen-covered table. She lifted a glass of chardonnay. “I’ll co-sign on that.”
“Me too.” Cori, also with them, slurped a frozen drink.
Laughter and conversation echoed in the semi-darkened private room at Club Escapade. The Breakup Bash—a party to help women get over one man and move on to a better one—was in full swing. Women mingled around the corner bar and danced to Beyoncé’s latest hit in front of the DJ booth next to a gold-curtained stage. The Hot Body Hunks male revue show was scheduled to perform a little later in the evening.
Alexa struggled to match the upbeat atmosphere. Who would’ve guessed the three of them would end up sharing the same bad luck with relationships? Nat had gone through a nasty divorce. Cori no longer lived with her boyfriend. But she was the dumbest one of them all. On her wedding day, her main concern had been making sure she had something old, new, borrowed, and blue. Meanwhile, some woman named Karma Sunflower had permanently borrowed Brad.
A couple of months before the wedding, when he’d developed an interest in health and started shopping at the organic market, she’d viewed it as a positive. She’d even cut back on French fries, given up sugar, and eaten tofu in solidarity with him. But all along, he’d been playing her for a fool.
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