I drifted to the bar and ordered two drinks. Maybe I hated him for being faithless. Maybe I hated myself for being weak. Either way, two drinks turned into more before I noticed.
When night fell, a bonfire was lit. Christopher and his crowd gathered around it to celebrate his birthday. His friends were sloppy drunk, and their mouths ran loose.
"Chris, your girl loves you so much. If you just sweet-talked her a little, forget a mistress, she'd probably put up with a whole lineup."
"Tch, watch your mouth. She's not 'the mistress,' she's the new Mrs. Gilbert. Right, new Mrs. Gilbert?"
"Oh right, right, my bad. I'll drink three for that."
I sat at the bar, glass in hand, the room blurring at the edges. But even through the haze, I felt it. A gaze, cutting straight toward me.
"It's midnight! Happy birthday, Christopher! Make a wish!"
After he blew out the candles, the crowd erupted. "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"
"What did you wish for?"
The music dipped low between tracks, and Christopher's voice cut through, steady and deliberate.
"I wish Louisa Henson peace and happiness."
The young woman beside him blinked. "Louisa? Who's that?"
Every head in the room swiveled toward me.
Louisa. That was me.