Page 38 of Runaway Bride’s Husband

That girl could organize a military coup that came complete with a list of approved florists for the inauguration of the new regime—and she’d do it without making anyone angry at her even if they knew she was the mastermind.

She was also the only person on earth who would hear me out before she started yelling at me about running out on Daniel, so I pulled out my phone and switched it back on. Seconds later, missed calls, messages, voicemails, and notifications came streaming in like a tide.

At this rate, my battery would go flat before I even made the call, so I ignored the constant stream of judgment and scrolled to her number, then hit dial. Cathy answered on the first ring, but her voice was suspicious, like she wasn’t sure it was really me. “Maggie?”

“Hi.”

“Oh my God. It is you.”

I winced. “Please don’t scream.”

Naturally, she pretended not to have heard me. “You’re alive! Oh my God, you’re alive. How are you? Where are you?”

“New York.”

She paused for a beat. “You’re home?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“What does that mean?”

I looked around Ryan’s apartment. “It means I’m in New York, but not back home.”

She sighed. “Okay, I need to see you. Right now. Come to Cavendash Square and meet me in the back. We’ll be safe there.”

“Give me thirty minutes?” Her family’s department store was at least twenty minutes’ walk from here and I was still juggling the same three outfits I’d been wearing for the last week. I needed to build in some time to change. Into what, I didn’t know yet, but I’d figure it out. “I’ll see you then.”

“See you in thirty,” she confirmed. “Don’t be late, Mags. You have no idea how worried I’ve been. If you’re not here in precisely thirty minutes, I’ll think you got kidnapped again.”

“Again? I’ve never been kidnapped.”

“Don’t let your mother hear you say that, but for now, just don’t keep me waiting and we’ll talk when you get here.”

“Yeah. I’ll be there,” I promised, then hung up and glanced at my t-shirt.

Gross as it was, I’d slept in it last night, but I was still waiting for my other shirts to dry, which meant I was bang out of luck on changing into something of my own.

I wasn’t proud of it, but I slid my phone into the pocket of my jeans and made my way to Ryan’s bedroom, rummaging through his closet and stealing one of his sweatshirts. It was huge on me, but it smelled like him—a gorgeous blend of fragrances I didn’t recognize, but adored—not that I’d ever tell him that.

The first time I’d walked into his bathroom, I’d seen a whole array of White Water Lily bottles, and since I knew his two older brothers were married to the Saad sisters, I assumed that was the scent he wore. It was gorgeous, though. Sexy and masculine but not overpowering at all.

My compliments to the chef, not the man. Of course.

I grabbed the baseball cap and a pair of his sunglasses and pulled those on too, then looked myself over in the mirror. Perfect. I look like a hungover college student desperately seeking coffee.

Satisfied that no one would ever recognize Hamptons Barbie in my current getup, I shoved my hands into the sweatshirt pocket and left. Undercover Maggie was officially in business.

Cathy was waiting at the back entrance of her family’s department store wearing a cream suit and enormous sunglasses, but she pulled them off when I approached her, doing a double take when she realized it was me.

“Oh, no.” She shook her head hard and fast. “Uh-uh. You need to change.”

“I thought I looked casual.”

“No, honey. Casual is one thing you don’t look. If anything, you look like you mugged a frat boy.” She sighed and pulled me into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here. God, I was so worried.”

As I wrapped my arms around her, I let myself relax into her embrace. Everyone else might be pissed at me, but Cathy was still here, still acting like herself, and obviously, she hadn’t written me off as a friend just yet.

“It’s good to see you too,” I murmured. “Are you okay? I hope the press hasn’t been hounding you about what I did.”