Page 84 of VOGUEish

Grayson chuckled. “What are you going to do to fix things?”

“What makes you think I want to fix things?” How would one even go about fixing such a massive screw-up? All Isabella had ever wanted was to have relationships with people she could trust and to form friendships. He’d destroyed so much for her.

“You look like shit. If she meant nothing to you, this wouldn’t be eating at you the way it is. I mean dude, you don’t give a shit what the media says. You never have.”

That wasn’t true. He cared greatly. He just hadn’t ever let it be known. “What day is it?”

“Friday.” Grayson answered. “Night.”

“Son of a bitch.” Chandler jumped to his feet. “I’ve got to go.” He quickly sent a text to his driver.

“Where? You’re drunk and look like shit.”

It was Isabella’s comeback night. Who was there with her? Ryder? Or was he out of the country on assignment? “I’ll sober up in the car.” He left Grayson sitting in his living room. If Ryder wasn’t with her, he couldn’t let Isabella face her classmates alone. He glanced at his watch. Eight p.m. What if he was too late?

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Isabella walked into her class reunion alone. No Prince Charming on her arm. No engagement ring on her finger.

Which was fine. She didn’t need a man to face these people. Ten years ago, she might have been a damsel in distress but not anymore. Now, she was a damsel in charge. One who was handling her life. Trouble and all.

Sure, she was distraught. Her best friend had betrayed her. As much as Isabella hated to think Chloe capable of the leak to further her career, it was the only logical explanation for how the whole thing had played out. And if that painful conclusion wasn’t enough to have Isabella hurting, the guy she’d fallen in love with was a louse. Not that she’d allowed herself to wallow in either mess.

Ever since returning from Florida, she’d been busy fixing her life as ruthlessly as Chandler had fixed Naked Runway.

She’d started by telling Chandler what he could do with his accusations. Then she’d moved out of the warehouse. Luckily—or not—Chloe hadn’t been there at the time of her move. Now, Isabella was living her comeback moment. For better or worse, it was here, and she would survive without one tear.

She’d purposefully arrived thirty minutes late. Fashionably late. Truthfully, she’d arrived thirty minutes early and then sat in the car for an hour and watched everyone walk in so she’d know who she would be dealing with.

“Well. You did show. I lost that bet.” This comment came from a short brunette with a baby bump. Bernadette Sugarsmith. The ringleader of the mean girls. The one who’d taken great pleasure in telling Isabella she’d not really won queen of prom. She’d won loser queen of prom. This was the one Ms. Birdie had told Isabella was married to the up-and-coming politician.

Isabella looked her old nemesis up and down and smiled. “Same.” It wasn’t that Bernadette had aged poorly—it was just that she hadn’t changed. She still looked like the girl from high school. Someone who insisted on reliving her glory days. Hell, if Isabella wasn’t mistaken, she was wearing her prom dress, the material stretched tight over her bump.

Bernadette blinked. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“It makes as much sense as you thinking that dress looks good on you.” Isabella swished past her and headed toward the crowd.

One win for Loser Queen of Prom.

“Isabella, it’s so nice to see you again.” This came from Bernadette’s old boyfriend. His hairline had greatly receded in the past ten years. She waited for his gaze, lingering on her cleavage, to return to her eyes.

“I wish I could say the same,” she replied sweetly.

“Wow. She not only looks great, but she’s also developed a bite.” This remark came from someone behind Isabella. “I love this new Isabella.”

Isabella turned to see who it was and smiled. It was another of the nerds from high school. There had been about ten of them in her class. Isabella had been the only one of them to attend prom because the Academic Decathlon was the day after prom and the others weren’t willing to lose sleep. Isabella wouldn’t have gone, either, but she had been suckered into attending.

“Hi, Nelly. You look wonderful. Tell me what you’ve been up to.” Isabella took the former vice president of Math Club by the arm and pulled her over to a corner away from the crowd.

“Are you okay?” Nelly asked. “You look white.”

Isabella smiled. “I’m dying on the inside, but I can’t let any of them know.”

“Then keep smiling,” Nelly said, “because Bernadette and her crew are walking this way.”

Isabella laughed. “That is the most fabulous story. I always knew you’d make something of yourself. I’m so happy for you.”

“Isabella, we have a surprise event for you tonight,” Bernadette said. “A little something to make up for how awful we were back then.”

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