Page 75 of Runaway Bride’s Husband

“It was a truly dreadful experience, but I’m so much better now. Thank you.” I forced a fake smile and mentally reached for her daughter’s name. “How are you, and how’s Agatha?”

She waved me off. “We’re wonderful. She wanted to be here, but of course, it’s not so easy for medical students to simply up and leave campus.”

“Of course.”

“In any event, we’re so relieved you’re alright. We were shocked when your mother told us. I didn’t even know you were allergic to shellfish.”

I had a sudden vision of my mother explaining my fake medical history to half the Upper East Side. “You know, I don’t think any of us realized it was so severe. I tend to stay far enough away from shellfish that there was just no knowing.”

“You gave us all such a fright,” another woman chimed in, stepping in beside me. “To think that you had to be taken to the hospital on your wedding day. It’s awful. Positively awful.”

I nodded my agreement, fielding a few more questions about my supposed recovery and extreme disappointment to have had to postpone the wedding. Those answers were easy. I knew what was expected of me and I said what I had to, but the other, more personal questions were starting to wear me down.

“When are you and Daniel thinking of rescheduling?”

“Soon,” my mother answered smoothly, appearing at just the right moment. “Very soon.”

“Are you feeling ready?”

I nearly froze, but my mother shifted her weight beside me, a subtle reminder to play my part, and I forced a smile. “Absolutely.”

Just not to marry Daniel.

Another of my mother’s friends joined us, immediately widening her eyes when she glanced down at my hand. “Darling, girl. Where’s your ring?”

Shit. My finger is still bare. I didn’t even think about that.

My mother suddenly laughed. “Daniel is such a thoughtful man. He’s having it replaced with a larger diamond. He wanted something more substantial after everything that’s happened. To make her feel better about missing the wedding.”

My stomach rolled. I really, really hope that isn’t true.

Increasing the carat weight would not make me feel better about our relationship. At all.

My mother squeezed my arm and I smiled wider, suddenly understanding why people fainted when they desperately needed to get out of a conversation. I was seriously considering it when the same woman who’d noticed that my ring was missing spoke up again.

“So, Maggie,” she started with a glint in her eyes that immediately made my hackles rise. “I heard you were spotted taking a little road trip with Ryan Thayer.”

My heart stopped for a second, my lungs completely forgetting that they were supposed to be doing something. Strangely, my first thought wasn’t about explaining or wondering what they’d seen or heard. It was about Ryan. I didn’t even think about the scandal it would cause, or what my family would think, or even about Daniel. The only thing on my mind was that someone might’ve found out what’d happened between us—and blame him for my having run from the wedding.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I’m in trouble, aren’t I?

Before that fear could twist itself into a knot, my mother spoke up again, waving a hand like she hadn’t even thought to mention it before. “Ryan is helping with the wedding.”

“Ryan Thayer is helping to plan a wedding?”

I forced myself to breathe while my mother smiled the way she did when someone complimented our household staff. “Yes, he is. He’s been tremendously helpful, actually. We’re keeping things much more intimate this time, of course.”

“Is Nora involved as well?” someone asked in a tone that made it feel like the temperature around us had taken a sudden nosedive. “I sure hope not.”

My mother’s smile didn’t falter. “No, she’s not. Nora has quite enough going on, don’t you think?”

The almost imperceptible stiffness around her mouth made me realize that the Thayers were still banished from these circles and I blinked hard as what that meant sank in. Earlier, I’d thought Nora simply hadn’t worked her way back up high enough to have been invited to this particular tea, but I’d also assumed these women were, in fact, starting to accept her again. This last bit of conversation had proven me very, very wrong.

When my mom flitted from our group to make her way to the next, I excused myself and followed, catching her in a quiet corner near the walkway.

“Why are you pretending you’re not friends with Nora?”

My mother turned, brushing my hand off her arm before taking a small step closer and lowering her voice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”