23 - Broken Hearts Club

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Over the next few weeks, I appeared to have my act together. I taught myself how to smile through the pain. Life had to go on and if I planned to be successful, I had to get myself back on track. My business had been suffering because of my disinterest.

With 3 weeks left, I got Clara's wedding plans done. The flowers were ordered, I worked with Dad on the menu for the party, and I built the layout for the decorations and lights. I had my plane ticket, my dress, and a new look. I cut about 4 inches off my hair and added highlights and lowlights to it. It was just below my shoulders now. It took less time to style, so I had started straightening it again.

Anyone seeing me during the day would think I was fine. I had control over that part of me. But at night I fell apart. Every night. Complete meltdown. I had put away all the photos of us. I kept his pillow in the closet, and any reminders of our time together were in a box. I still couldn't get rid of anything, but I at least didn't have to look at it.

One Friday night, I was just about to wash up and settle into my new routine of wine and tears when the doorbell rang. It was my friends. They were doing their version of an intervention.

They pushed their way into my apartment and looked ready to go paint the town. There were 4 of them, so I was outnumbered. There was Kathy, who was the oldest of us. She was 39 going on 26. Married, 2 kids, stay at home mom. She was tall and gorgeous with jet black hair and gray eyes. Kathy was our voice of reason... when she was sober. She was also the first to get drunk on our play dates.

Next was Chelsea. She was newly divorced and ready to sleep with any man who showed an interest in her, just to get back at her ex. She was average height, auburn hair, and pretty enough to get herself into trouble.

Maddie was the quiet one. She tended not to talk about herself as much as the others, but she had revealed that she was going through some challenges in her marriage. Her husband had an affair and they were trying to reconcile. Maddie was short, blonde, and cute. Her personality was bubbly and cheerful, but sometimes I wondered if that was her defense mechanism.

And last was the troublemaker, Samantha. Sam was tall, a bit plain looking, but had huge boobs and short hair that changed colors all the time. Currently it was blue. She was single and had no interest in commitment. The most dates she had been on with anyone was 3. She had even dated a couple of girls along the way. She was free and that is how she liked it.

I wasn't sure how I fit into this group sometimes. I was more of a homebody than a party girl, and they were all very much into clubbing and drinking. Many times I was the designated driver when we went out. I preferred it when they came over to my place so that I didn't have to worry about it.

"Hannah, you have been like this for 3 months. We are tired of it. You are going out with us. The kids are with their grandmother tonight, so I don't have a curfew," Kathy spoke up first.

"You need to get a grip and get back out there. You are gorgeous and could land a hot guy in a heartbeat," Chelsea added.

"How many guys have you seen me pick up in the two years we have known each other?" I asked.

"Good point. But you could if you wanted to," she finished.

"You just need a good fuck. No strings. That'll get you back to good." Sam had no idea how wrong she was.

"As previously stated, you are going out with us tonight," Kathy again.

Maddie still hadn't said anything. I looked at her and she was smiling. She was carrying a bag and pulled out a curling iron. "Let's do this, girls!" she said with an evil laugh.

They sat me in a chair and one went into my bathroom and came back with my makeup organizer. Sam worked on my hair and Maddie did my face. Chelsea held up three dresses she had brought and told me to pick one. They were all short party dresses. Red, black, or gold beaded. I chose the gold beaded one because I liked the way it sparkled. I knew arguing with them was pointless, so I just went along.

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