First to Fail (Unraveled #3) - Marie Johnston Page 0,48

garage but waited until the door shut behind her, blocking us from the couple inside, before she spoke.

“Chris.”

I was halfway to the side door. Stopping, I dug my keys out and hit the autostart. I was miserable, but I didn’t have to freeze. Facing her, I was staggered by the regret in her eyes. Her parents’ judgment was that important to her? So be it.

“Natalia. I’ve been through this before.” I gestured toward the main house. “It doesn’t end well for me, and I’m not going to live as your dirty little plebeian secret.”

She sighed and pushed her messy hair off her face. It must’ve killed her to let her mother see her like that. It would’ve destroyed Cierra. “It’s not like that.”

I drifted toward her. “Really? So, what—we go back in. I can tell them all about Arcadia and the daughter I had out of wedlock that was so scandalous I thought I’d been teleported to the 1950s. I can give them Nana and Papa’s last name and see if it gets me any street cred, though we’ll skip the part where I wasn’t good enough to become their son-in-law. Then we can go to brunch, where you’ll be as mortified as your mother that I’m wearing jeans and a shirt that cost less than fifty dollars. What if the other patrons mistake me for the kitchen staff?” Who would probably be dressed fancier than I was anyway.

“Chris.”

I cut my head to the side and held a hand up. “No. I’m not being limited to only one of the dimensions you live in. Goodbye, Ms. Shaw.”

Chapter 12

Natalia

I slumped in my chair. Another month, another board meeting. Only this was the meeting I was supposed to bring up the proposal for the fine-arts track. Acid churned in my stomach. The new semester had been going for two weeks and I’d worked twelve-hour days. Mostly to avoid going home.

My phone remained silent. Chris’s goodbye had been final. My parents had flown back to Seattle, and my mother had been relieved that the “Chris phase” was over.

He’s not son-in-law material. You need a man who can keep up with you.

So ironic. As if Mother hadn’t been following Father’s coattails all over the country. I had heard my mother admit to barely graduating college because of the travel demands of Father’s job. But for status reasons, Mother had needed the Princeton credentials.

My gaze landed on the same diploma hanging on my wall. My mind drifted back to that devastating morning Chris had walked out on me. Could I blame him? I’d tried talking him up to Father, but the attempt had only been an insult. Two different decades, yet Chris had gotten the same treatment. Both of those times in the twenty-first century.

No wonder Valaria was from the future.

A knock at the door saved me from the instant replay that haunted me hourly. Ms. Branson poked her head in. I straightened and wiped the dejected expression from my face. “Come in.”

“Douglas Johnson just arrived. All the board members are here.”

“Thanks.” I grabbed my portfolio. It included stacks of handouts that I’d later email. Not for the first time I wished we had upgraded with the times and had projectors that weren’t from my parents’ days in school.

I took a moment to check my appearance in the mirror, wishing I were into makeup for more reasons than just cosplay. Dark circles rimmed my eyes, and my pallid skin could use some foundation. My customary bun was fraying after a long day and a billion attempts to run my hands through my hair before remembering how tightly bound I kept it all day.

At least I had my dark-rimmed glasses. The contrast of the frames against my face was enough to prevent me from looking sickly.

“Let’s do this,” I muttered.

My heels clicked on the polished hardwood all the way to the conference room. The halls were empty, and when I passed the trophy case I slowed. Were one of these from Chris? Most likely. How had I never stopped to find him in the team photos?

Because what if someone asked why I was perusing the sports display? It wasn’t like I ever lingered here.

Or was it because I’d realized that scholarships ultimately helped the kids? Physical activities helped students, and I’d been remiss in equalizing the opportunities available to each gender in the school. Or had I been trying to create a divide in my own mind?

Shaking my head, I continued to the room.

Entering the meeting,