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“I don’t know, but I have rope, tape, and a place to keep you just in case you decide to try it,” I quip. We both laugh at our ridiculousness.
“I knew I loved them before I could even count.” Samantha’s nasally-ass voice announces, making me want to lose the little bit of food I ate before coming to this damn party. “While there was a small hiccup during the Selection, I knew I was their chosen. It was kismet.”
Overhearing Samantha drone on and on about their destiny to be together, I grab Shay’s hand, pulling her over to the bar. “You know she’s delusional, right?” Shay encourages. “I’ve known those idiot men as long as Samantha has.” She pauses. “And after Owen was kidnapped, they’ve despised her.”
“Tell that to my broken heart and the gaudy rock on her left ring finger,” I retort, then order a club soda with fresh berries and a lemon slice.
Gritting my teeth, I work to stave off my tears. I’m just not sure if they’re from sadness or anger. Probably both. Shay envelops me. “If they’re too stupid to see who they passed over for the entitled train wreck they chose, then they all deserve endless years of misery with each other until one of the guys snaps and kills her.” She releases me as the bartender places my drink on the bar top. “Now, let’s address the real problem. Why are you drinking unflavored beverages? What in the bingo night at the VFW are you subjecting my niece and nephew to?”
I throw my head back and laugh before picking up my drink. Shay looks on in horror as I close my lips around the straw and do a happy dance as the flavors hit my tongue. “Hey, no picking on the pregnant woman. She’s allowed to have what she craves. Now, let me be great!”
Shay shakes her head as she grabs her mojito. Then we find our table and get lost in conversation, drowning out the endless speeches, praising the happily engaged group.
Two hours pass, and my love for my ensemble vanishes. I should’ve gone with my gut and pretended not to be well enough to attend this bullshit. My face hurts from all the smiling and conversations I’ve endured. At some point, Samantha and the guys left their own shindig. Now I’m here listening to women babble.
“Didn’t she look lovely?” A blonde woman shouts over the music to the brunette woman she’s standing with. They both appear to be in their late thirties or early forties.
The brunette frowns, and worry fills her face as she responds, “It’s a tragedy her mother couldn’t be here.”
Where are her parents? I haven’t seen Samantha’s father or mother.
“Oh, and that poor girl that’s pregnant. Rumor has it that she’s claiming it to be one of the boys, but they’ve all denied it,” the annoying blonde states, and I curse the Fraternitas and the stupid contract for forcing me to be here. They titter on about who the father could be and how foolish I am forever believing I had a chance. “Can you believe she had the audacity to show up?”
“I didn’t want to come to this stupid fucking engagement party in the first place,” I grumble, spinning away from the two women I’m adding to my ever-growing list.
Huffing, I fight with my damn dress. It feels so restricting, and my feet fucking hurt. Socializing at twenty-six weeks pregnant should be illegal. I barely like people to begin with. Everything feels off, and I want to be anywhere but here. I curse when tears begin to pool in the corner of my eyes.
“We can sneak out the back. No one will ever know,” Shay whispers, sensing my growing frustration.
“I wish. If I leave, all the plans I’ve been working on will fall through. I need the Fraternitas to believe I’m a docile, willing participant.”
Shay snorts. “Docile? Do they know who you are? If they think, for a minute, you’re anything but—” She’s cut off.
“Hush it. Let’s go grab another drink,” I suggest.
We stand and then begin walking toward the bar. Reign and Elias are quick to follow.
“Oh look, it’s the reject,” Brittany slurs, stepping into our path.
Someone’s hammered.
“Did you say that in the mirror to yourself?” I challenge. Brittany’s nose scrunches as she curls her lip in anger.
She takes a step forward, but Reign blocks her. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Brittany looks momentarily stunned, but she quickly recovers. “Whatever. I’m over this whole thing. Owen sent me to find you.”
Rolling my eyes, I retort, “Right, because Owen sending you to deliver a message to me is ever going to be believable.”
“Whatever, suit yourself. Don’t say I never tried to do you any favors,” Brittany spins, almost taking out a passing waiter and the tray of hors d'oeuvres. “Stupid bitch Sam better be happy,” I swear she mutters before skulking away.
43
OWEN
“You understand what needs to happen?” Lev asks me.
Nodding, I reply, “Yes, but how do you suppose I get Samantha to follow me anywhere? That soul-sucking bitch knows I hate her.”
