Page 45 of Miss Belief

Teagan

We walked hand in hand into the hotel ballroom for the cocktail party. Reid was dressed in a charcoal gray suit with a light blue shirt that matched his eyes. The outfit seemed rather formal for a beach wedding, but then again, what did I know? Perhaps wearing a formal suit and tie in eighty-degree weather by the beach was fun.

Fun, like having a psychic hit the nail on the head when it came to my childhood emotional scar. Sure, she could’ve guessed how much I liked options and gotten lucky, but I didn’t think so. All of what she’d said about me had been eerily accurate, except, of course, her comment about the pent-up sexual energy between us. Or perhaps I had enough for us both, setting her meter off target.

“Something from the bar?” I offered, trying not to sound desperate for some liquid courage. It was game time, and eyes were already on us. I sincerely hoped I didn’t cause him to regret his decision to bring me here as his fake girlfriend.

“Yes, but let me get the drinks. You prefer Sex on the Beach or in the Driveway?”

My laugh was instantaneous, and his humor was what I’d needed to break the tension. The fact he remembered my home blender drink of choice was impressive. “It’s a beach wedding, so let’s stick with doing it on the beach for now, but do me a favor and don’t get trapped by your past. Not until after I have a drink in my hand.”

His lips curved up in a sexy grin. “I’ll see what I can do.”

After he left, I wandered to a nearby high-top cocktail table to wait for him. I’d just taken a meatball from a waiter’s tray when a glossy brunette with a blond sidekick came up. I recognized them both as the two women on the balcony when we’d checked in.

Mean girl alert. After all the years in middle and high school bullied by rich, spoiled, bitchy girls, I could practically smell it on them.

The brunette spoke first. “Hi, I’m the bride, Jamie, and this is my maid of honor, Tiffany.”

After an awkward pause where I cursed the damn meatball in my mouth, I managed a smile despite wishing I could tell them to get lost. But this was the dance. The type which began with polite conversation before morphing into passive-aggressive, followed by just plain mean.

Finally I was able to swallow and speak. “Nice to meet you both. I’m Teagan.”

First up for catty bitch of the year was the maid of honor, the blonde. “Right, you’re Reid’s little rebound.”

And so went the dance.

“I prefer to be called girlfriend, but the Reid part is true.”

Jamie, not to be outdone in the bitchiest-girl contest, took her shot. “I saw you in the lobby checking in earlier and thought there’s no way she’s Reid’s date, but you look prettier tonight. Guess it must’ve been bad lighting.”

Mean girls gonna hate. “Yeah, come to think of it, I spotted you on the balcony, but you looked much more knocked up then, so I didn’t even recognize you tonight. God bless good lighting, am I right?”

I had the satisfaction of seeing her insincere smile drop like a rock. I might be here as Reid’s fake girlfriend, but I certainly didn’t have to fake being nice to shitty people.

“I’d say it was a pleasure to meet you, but—”

“It would be a lie. Believe me. Same. Ah, here’s my boyfriend now. Reid, you know the bride and her maid of honor, I presume?”

He flashed a charming smile. “I do. Nice to see you, Jamie and Tiffany.”

“Yes, nice to see you too, Reid. I still can’t believe you called up last minute to ask to bring a date. It’s bad form. And after meeting her, I wish you had better taste.”

Was it wrong to slap a pregnant lady? All signs pointed to yes. But what if it was only a little bop on the forehead in order to insult her? Or hell, I’d settle for slapping the maid of honor as her proxy.

I half expected my fake boyfriend to give me a disapproving frown, but much to my surprise, he put his arm around my waist, hauling me close to him. “I’d say my taste has definitely improved for the better. Take care, ladies.”

I let out a breath once they turned and left, meeting Reid’s amused eyes.

“Not playing well with the others already?”

“Petty mean girls. I realize the bride is your ex’s cousin, but damn—they came in hot.”

“And judging from the looks of it, they’re leaving to lick their wounds. I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

“Eh. Mean girls are all over the place. They don’t bother me anymore.”

Leave it to him to catch my slip. “But they used to?”