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I’m doing my utmost best to keep my shit together when Sienna’s features turn stern.

“Don’t turn around.”

It’s too late. I feel her evil presence before she even utters a word.

“Maxine? Is that you?” My back goes ramrod straight at the musical tone of Misty’s voice. “Oh, my God, it is!”

Before I can stop her, she has her arms around me as if we were old friends.

I feel violated, dirty, and all wrong by the time she lets me go.

“I can’t believe you made it. I haven’t seen you in forever,” she coos, all smiles and clear emerald-green eyes.

A more gullible person might mistake Misty’s excitement for genuine enthusiasm. But it’s all a lie. The friendly facade Misty puts on is exactly that, a facade—one she’s perfected so well that, for a moment, even I almost fell for it. But I know better.

Misty Buckley—sorry, Galloway—is nothing more than a persona she’s spent years perfecting. Nothing about her is genuine, and it shames me that it took me so long to make peace with that one truth.

“Misty,” Sienna greets her when I can’t seem to find my words.

“Sienna. Oh my gosh! You look amazing,” Misty cheers, going in for a hug.

But to her dismay, Sienna is quicker than I was, taking a full step back before she gets the chance.

“Thanks.”

Misty’s luminous smile slips for half a second. That tiny crack in her well-fabricated mask is all I need to clear the fog from my head.

“I’m so happy you two made it. I wasn’t sure you would,” she says, brushing off Sienna’s rejection as if it never happened, preferring to shift her attention back to me. “Especially you, Max. I wasn’t even sure you’d gotten the invitation. You sure didn’t make it easy to find you.” Misty waits for me to add something, but when I refuse to give her anything, she continues, “There was just no trace of Maxine Morgan anywhere. It was the craziest thing. Good thing I remembered Kayla’s mom mentioning that you’d gotten into Columbia. Since that was my only lead, I made some calls and, luckily, managed to get in touch with one of your old professors who knew you were signed with Neverland Publishing.” Her smile brightens. “Max Usher, huh? The name suits you.”

Something about the way she says it makes the my skin prickle.

Then it dawns on me—the reunion invitation was sent to my publisher.

At the time, I hadn’t thought twice about it. Most of my professional mail goes through the publishing house anyway. And since the invitation itself had caused so much chaos in my life, I never stopped to wonder how it had gotten to me in the first place.

Never once did I consider that Misty was behind it, or how much digging she’d done to track me down.

Still, that’s not the only thing in her spiel that gives me pause.

Misty knew I was Max Usher before I ever set foot in Fairhope.

Yet no one else seemed to.

Not until my PA called the B&B and told Mrs. Trott. And judging by how quickly word spread after that, if people around town had known beforehand, I would have heard about it the second I arrived.

Which means Misty had kept that secret all to herself.

The question is why.

“You went through all that trouble just to send me an invitation? Why?” I ask at last.

For the briefest second, something flickers behind her jewel-like eyes. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.

“Why wouldn’t I? It wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

I don’t believe that for a second. Whatever her motives, one thing is clear—Misty is still Misty. Whoever that is.

I never could read her. But somehow, she’s always been able to read me perfectly.