I don’t want to be too sexy. My friends’ plans for my libido aside, I have no interest in entertaining the opposite sex tonight.

Tilting my head, I contemplate my options…

“They think I’m going home with someone, they have another thing coming,” I mutter, then choose a pair of jeans and a loose-fitting top.

It’s karaoke, how sexy do I have to be?

My phone vibrates on the bathroom counter a few feet away, so I button my jeans closed and walk to my phone, seeing Dottie’s name.

“Dot, Dot, she’s super hot,” I answer.

“Hey, girlfriend. We’re on our way. You ready?”

“Yup.”

“You’re going to love our whip…”

“You didn’t rent a limo, did you? Because I don’t think going out for the first time since getting my heart ripped from my chest is enough reason to celebrate that extravagantly.”

“It’s not a limo, it’s better. Trust me. You wearing something sexy?”

I look down at my baggie attire and shrug. “I’m wearing something.”

“Winter Elizabeth Sommers, you promised!”

“I promised to wear something sexy to karaoke?”

“You promised to try. Get your hot little ass in the closet and pick out something that shows leg. We’ll be there in ten.”

I roll my eyes with a grunt. “Fine. Meet you at the curb.”

“Love yooou,” she sing-songs, then the line goes dead.

Staring at myself in the mirror, I stand tall, straightening my shoulders. “You got this, Winter. Go have fun with your friends.”

A deep red smile curls my lips as I saunter back to my closet to pick out another outfit. One that makes me feel like the goddess I am.

* * *

One or all of the Fearless Four played their cards right, because the Uber that Keith, Dottie, and Sondra picked me up in was wrapped in flashing LED lights and bumping techno music.

The driver’s name was Ajmal, and he was a goddamn riot. His smile showed all his teeth, and the positive energy flowing from that man was breathtaking. I’ve never laughed so much in an Uber before in my life. It was a sign that tonight would be amazing and there was nothing to worry about. Cheers to new beginnings!

Climbing from the back of Ajmal’s luxury SUV, my dress opens up the side, showing leg up to my waist. It might be a little formal for karaoke, but fuck it. Like a phoenix rising, am I right?

We find a table near the stage so we can enjoy the show as thoroughly as possible. I hate to say it—because honestly it makes us sound like a bunch of assholes, and even more honestly… we probably are—but the commentary we share on karaoke night brings tears to my eyes. Which is probably why my friends chose this time-old excursion as my coming-back-out party.

Minutes after settling in, a server delivers a bottle of champagne to our table in a bucket of ice with four champagne glasses and four waters.