Accidental Fiancé (Unintentionally Yours #5)

1. Maggie

Chapter 1

Maggie

I had only made it inside of the lobby, but I had come too far to turn back now. It had taken me all day to work up the courage to come to the reunion. Nora agreeing to come with me helped, though it wasn’t much of a favor, really. It was her reunion too.

Had it really been fifteen years since high school?

It was hard to believe. It felt like a lifetime ago, yet it also felt like I was in Mr. Wedig’s geometry class just yesterday, ignoring him while staring at the freckles on Victor Clyburn’s thick neck. It was sun-exposed thanks to his short brown hair and too much time on the football field. He was the kicker. He was cute and a great distraction from isosceles triangles.

No chance in hell he remembered me.

Not that I cared. I had dozens of little crushes like that in high school. They weren’t even on the actual person; they were focused more on certain aspects of that person. I wondered what Victor’s freckles would taste like, or the feel of Brian Hannigan’s pecs, or what it would be like to wake up with my sheets smelling like Austin Graves.

He smelled the best of any boy in our class, but I never had the nerve to ask what cologne he wore. Considering I’d never spoken to him in the thirteen years of school we’d had together, asking about his cologne felt a tad bit awkward.

It was never any one boy who had my complete attention because none of them had the whole package, and if I couldn’t get everything I wanted, then what was the point of picking one? I didn’t date in high school, and I’d only had a few boyfriends since, but it never went anywhere serious. Thus, my date for the Saturday night reunion was Nora.

Where the hell is she?

The busy hotel lobby had beige, patterned carpet, gleaming dark hardwood, and crystal chandeliers that glowed warm yellow light. It was lovely, and far too high-class for our school. I wasn’t sure why the reunion committee selected this hotel when the Rosewood High School’s gym would have likely garnered as many attendees. RHS was a lot of things, but classy wasn’t one of them.

“Maggie Bryant? Is that you?”

There were voices in the world that could lock up every muscle in my body and send my hair on end.

Chloe Foster had one of them.

It wasn’t particularly shrill or cloying, and it wasn’t necessarily the voice itself that made me react so viscerally. It was… Chloe herself. Relentless fakeness clung to every syllable that came out of her mouth.

I knew what I would find before I even turned around—a skeletal white woman with long, wavy blonde hair and bright, but somehow lifeless, blue eyes. Her white sleeveless jumpsuit clung to her frame giving her the illusion of curves, her heels offering the only color in her outfit—bright red stilettos that she seemed to be struggling to keep her balance in. Her makeup was perfect; sharp lines and perfect hues applied with precision, from her immaculate eyebrows to her sultry lips. Every inch of her was designer artistry, and while I admired the look, the idea of copying it was laughable. If I wore anything like that, I’d feel like a little girl playing dress up in Mommy’s clothes.

I had no patience for intricate makeup, and my clothes, though decent enough, were chosen for comfort over style. My outfit consisted of a simple blue dress with straps wide enough to wear a real bra and cute black ballet flats. My makeup was minimal and in neutral hues. I had, however, treated myself to a new necklace for the event—a silver chain with a blue opal pendant that hung at the top of my cleavage. It was a splurge, but after I’d seen it in the window, I had to have it. When I tried it on, it felt like a talisman, something that could give me the strength to get through the night.

Right now, I might as well have been naked for all the protection it offered me. I was trapped, facing off with the person who had made my public education a nightmare.

Seriously, where the hell was Nora?

I plastered on a fake smile, hoping to make this quick. “Chloe, right?”

She held up her black and diamond clutch with her name tag on it. “In the flesh. It’s so good to see you!” She came in for a hug I didn’t want but she gave it to me anyway. I nearly gagged on her vanilla perfume. “Can you believe it’s been fifteen years?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, I know.”

“I was just inside, catching up with some of the girls we used to hang out with. You remember Emma and Harmony, right? And they were talking about how we never see you around town anymore. Why is that?”

Because I have made it an art avoiding the three of you. “Oh, you know. Big city. Different lives, different circles of friends.”

“That makes sense, I guess. I’ve been positively swamped between volunteering at the historical society and running the reunion. I?—"

“You picked the location for the reunion?” I cut her off.

“Well, of course.” She smirked. “Did you think we’d be one of those low-rent reunions at our gym? God forbid.”

“God forbid,” I parroted back, fighting an eye roll.

Her smirk became an annoyed grimace as she glanced around. “This hotel wasn’t even the best one on the list, but the committee said I had to reign in the spending. They limited me to only one ice sculpture inside the ballroom, but if I had my way, there’d be three.”

“Oh.” I had no idea what to say about that.

She sighed before saying, “Some people don’t appreciate good taste. I thought you might come with your girlfriend. Did you two break up?” Her face turned bright in almost a mocking way as she said the words.

“Huh?”

“You know, you and that snarky redhead you used to hang out with. We called her Skinny, but I can’t remember her real name.”

“Nora Skinner.” She hated it when people called her Skinny. Not that she wasn’t, she was. But to her, it meant they hadn’t bothered to learn her real name and they were making fun of her body.

“Right. So, are you two not together anymore?”

“No, we’re?—"

“Oh, that’s too bad. We could have used some diversity here tonight.”

“Chloe, we were never together like that. She’s my best friend. Not my girlfriend.”

Those too-blue eyes flickered over my dress before meeting my gaze. “Right. Sure.” She leaned forward, her volume dropping. “She said no, huh? That’s too bad.”

“I’m not into women!”

“No need to get testy about it. People don’t care about that kind of thing anymore, Maggie. It’s no big deal if you are.”

“I’m not!”

Her perfect lips upturned into the very picture of faux understanding and real condescension. “Of course, you’re not. But if you were to change your mind, there are a few women here tonight I could introduce you to.”

She knew she was irritating me and that ignoring me would be a favor, a gift from her. I saw it all over her face—that sadistic amusement. Her cruel smile gave her away. And if I made a big deal about it, I knew she’d find a way to make me feel like an idiot.

I desperately searched for my patient and calm tone when really all I wanted to do was scream. “I went to school with them, too, Chloe. I don’t need you to introduce me to anyone. And that’s not even the point. I’m straight.”

“Then you must have a boyfriend. Did he come with you tonight?”

“No.”

“What kind of a boyfriend doesn’t go to his girlfriend’s class reunion with her? Are you breaking up with him? You should. That’s unacceptable. You deserve better, Maggie.”

Oh. My. God. I was quickly losing my patience and it was impossible to not raise my voice at her. I just needed her to listen. “Chloe. I’m here on my own.” Thanks to Nora . “Any other questions?”

Her lower lip pouted a little while she simultaneously thrust her tits out and slumped her shoulders. It was the same pose she used to give the male teachers to convince them to bump her grade up a letter. Sexy, sad Chloe. They always fell for it and kept her grades up so she could stay on the cheer squad.

“No need to be snippy. I thought we were catching up.”

I refused to play into it and changed the topic. “Are you seeing anyone? Married? Anything?”

“You insist that you’re straight and then ask me out? Talk about mixed signals?—"

“Just making conversation, not a proposal.”

“Mm-hmm. I date a few people here and there. Never got married though. I like to keep my options open. Life is too short to be tied down, you know?” Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly when she said the words, and now that they were hanging in the air, I wondered what had gone wrong for her in the romance department.

I’d always thought she’d get married, have kids, get divorced, and become an alimony ex-wife. She was a serial monogamist in high school; she always had a boyfriend, including a backup boyfriend, ready to go. But Chloe Foster, single after thirty? I did not have that on my bingo card.

“Have you?—"

“We should go inside so you can get your nametag and catch up with everyone,” she said as she looped her arm through mine, forcing me to go in without making a fuss about it. I was trapped by my bully.

Neither option held any appeal, and by everyone I was sure she meant Harmony and Emma. I reluctantly went with her, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention. As much as I loathed Harmony Piedmont, Emma Gonzalez and I had shared a strained friendship back in the day, and admittedly, I was curious about her.

Still, each step toward the convention hall took a Herculean effort. I had hoped to catch up with Emma while having Nora by my side, in case she had gone full mean girl in the years since we’d seen each other. Nora acted as my guard dog—when people were rude she gave it right back to them and more. Nora had better have an amazing excuse for not being here, and that amazing excuse had better not sound like, “I had to work.”

Perhaps I had come to rely on her a little too much in the guard dog department. I didn’t have time to think about it though, not with Chloe speed walking us into the reunion, leaving me to wonder how she managed it in those heels.

The ballroom had been set up with a DJ, a dance floor, tall tables and a full bar with several bar stools, a sign-up table near the doors. Colored lights pulsed to the music, and a few dozen couples danced while others mingled.

As I signed in and grabbed my nametag, Chloe stood next to me, hands on her hips, staring around the room. Lindsey Panier, the nametag table attendant, bit her bottom lip as she watched her. From what I remembered of Lindsey, she was the nervous sort, always scared about her grades and keeping her clothes clean at recess.

Chloe asked, “Lindsey, what did we agree on about the decorations?”

“Flashy, but classy.”

“Then why are the streamers hanging at the wrong angles?”

“Wrong angles? For streamers?” I asked. Was there such a thing?

“I hung them how you told me to.”

“Come on, Lindsey, we both know better than that. If you had hung them how I told you to, then I wouldn’t be asking about them now,” she replied, a predatory smile on her mouth. “Find the ladder and fix them, ‘kay?”

“Of course. Right away.” Lindsey took off before Chloe could nag her some more.

“The streamers are fine, Chloe. No one cares about that kind of thing.”

She took my hand in both of hers, patting the back of it, her fake, syrupy voice cutting through me as she spoke. “It must be nice not to care how things look, but some of us do, and since I’m in charge of the reunion, I want it to be perfect.”

If I stayed around her much longer, I might chew through my tongue. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

She waved over my shoulder, ignoring me entirely. “Harmony! Over here!”

No, no, no. “I’m going to grab a glass of champagne…”

“Absolutely not! You don’t want wrinkles, do you?” Chloe said, whisking me toward Harmony.

Emma stood next to Harmony, and I instantly realized this was going to be a lot to swallow without liquid help. “Wait, you expect me to get through this entire reunion completely sober?”

“You were always so witty.”

She thinks I’m kidding. “Yeah. That’s me. The funny girl.”

“No, that was your girlfriend, Skinny. You’re the witty one. It’s probably why you two made such a good couple.” I jerked my arm free of her grasp, giving her my best forced customer service smile and patient tone. “Chloe, if I have to deal with your condescension and snide comments all night, then I’m going to require a drink. So, bar first, then Harmony and Emma, ‘kay?” I even added a little head tilt to soften my rudeness.

She studied my face for a beat then laughed. “Skinny made you funnier than when you were in high school.”

As she ushered me deeper into the reunion, I glanced longingly at the door. If Nora isn’t the next person to walk through that door, I’m running out of here.

A quick escape was half the reason I wore flats in the first place.

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