REUNIONS & RUSES

  by Marie Landry

  Copyright Marie Landry 2023

  All rights reserved

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual people, places, or events, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Character illustration by Qamber Emporium

  Cover designed by Marie Landry

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Also by Marie Landry

  Dedication

  Content Guidance

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Coming Soon

  Letter to the Reader

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  ALSO BY MARIE LANDRY

  *Blue Sky Days

  *The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

  *Waiting for the Storm (Angel Island #1)

  *After the Storm (Angel Island #2)

  *Take Them by Storm (Angel Island #3)

  *Only You

  *Maybe You

  *Hung Up on You

  *A Very Perry Christmas

  *A Very Perry Wedding

  *Escaping Christmas

  *Matchmaking & Mixtapes

  Coming Autumn 2023:

  *Do-Overs & Mixed Signals

  *Bucket Lists & Midnight Kisses

  *Silver Bells & Serendipity

  DEDICATION

  To the nerdy ones. The ones who are different. The ones who feel like they don’t deserve good things. The ones who feel like they don’t belong. The ones who have taken a different path in life. The ones who feel like they aren’t worthy of love. I see you. You are worthy and deserving of all the good things life has to offer.

  And to the people who have shown this little nerd unconditional love and support, and who have helped me embrace my differences and made me feel like they were something to be proud of instead of something to hide—thank you. I love you.

  And to Mum, always. I love you most of all.

  CONTENT GUIDANCE

  While Reunions & Ruses is mostly a lighthearted, fun romance, it does deal with some heavy topics that might be sensitive to some readers.

  As a teenager, Stella was in a car accident that left her with various injuries, including a broken leg and a concussion. The accident took an emotional toll too, leaving her with PTSD and depression. Stella talks about this openly several times. She also talks about her failed marriage and what she came to realize was her ex-husband’s emotional abuse and intent to control and isolate her from her loved ones.

  As a plus-size woman, Stella has also dealt with fat-shaming, and there are brief mentions of that throughout the course of the book.

  This book also contains mild swearing and alcohol consumption.

  I’ve tried to treat all these subjects as sensitively as possible, however, if any of these topics are painful for you, please treat yourself with care.

  CHAPTER ONE

  My web browser, much like my brain, has too many tabs running. I can practically hear my mind whirring in time to the hard drive on my laptop. I have three windows open with job search prospects, another with a company’s employment policies, plus two fandom-related pages—one with the latest fanfic I’m reading and the other with the fandom forum I belong to—and a Facebook events page that’s awaiting an RSVP.

  I’m ignoring that last one. Or trying to, anyway.

  The sound of keys jingling outside the front door makes my fingers pause over the keyboard. My best-friend-slash-roommate Evie is on a date with her new boyfriend, and I thought I’d have the place to myself for the evening, which accounts for the mess I’ve allowed to accumulate around me. And the fact I’m already wearing my pajamas, even though it’s only seven o’clock.

  The door opens and the sound of Evie’s laughter precedes her into the apartment. She and Wesley tumble through the door together, lips locked and hands grasping.

  My brain tells me to jump up and run to my room or, at the very least, announce my presence. Instead, I sit frozen on the couch. With any luck, they’ll stumble their way to Evie’s bedroom without noticing me. I can make my getaway then—slip out of the apartment and take my laptop to the café down the street. Sure, I’m wearing pajamas, but I could grab a jacket and leave it on. Plenty of people wear pajama pants in public these days, right? I never thought I’d be one of them, but I also never thought I’d be divorced, back in my hometown, unemployed, and living rent-free in my best friend’s condo. Or that said best friend would be dating my brother, who just moved back to town after nearly two decades away. Between that and certain events during my teen years, I could teach a master class in life not always turning out how you expect.

  In keeping with my own particular brand of luck, the pair drift toward the couch rather than down the hall. As they kick off their shoes and begin stripping off jackets and scarves, I know my window of opportunity is closing, and it’s only a matter of time before other clothes start flying.

  “Umm, guys?” I say tentatively.

  Evie lets out a high-pitched squeal and wrenches away from Wesley. As she spins toward me, I see the top two buttons of her blouse are undone, so I avert my eyes, resisting the urge to cover them like a little kid during a kissing scene in a movie.

  “Stella!” Evie says breathlessly. The sound of rustling material tells me she’s doing up her buttons and straightening her clothes. “Wesley and I…we were…I thought you were going out for the evening. I’m so sorry.”

  “Please don’t apologize,” I say, still not looking at them. “This is your apartment.”

  The quiet rumble of Wesley’s laughter finally has me peering in their direction. He’s standing behind Evie with his hands loosely gripping her hips. Evie’s lips twitch as she elbows him, but that only makes him laugh harder.

  “Glad you find this amusing, big brother,” I tell Wesley, although I’m holding back laughter now too.

  I actually am glad he finds it amusing because I’m sure many people would be annoyed. That’s just one of the many nice things about your best friend and your brother finally getting together after decades of dancing around their feelings for each other.

  Evie’s amusement fades as she turns back to me. “Everything okay? Didn’t you have a date with Tannis tonight?”

  “Oh, yeah, I canceled,” I say as casually as possible.

  The relief that flashes across Evie’s face is quickly replaced by concern. Both emotions are why I was aiming for casual; I’ve already interrupted her night with Wesley, and I don’t want to keep them from their plans by talking about Tannis, especially since Evie can’t stand her. She’s been telling me for weeks that I deserve better than an on-again, off-again non-relationship that’s ruled by the whims of a jerk. When Tannis called late this afternoon to tell me she’d be an hour or more late for our date because she was across town at a bar with friends, I told her not to bother coming at all. I also suggested she delete my number from her phone.

  “Do you want to talk—” Evie starts, but the rest of the sentence falls away as I hop off the couch.

  “Let me get out of your hair. I just need a minute to throw on some clothes, and then I’ll head out.”

  “You don’t have to leave,” Evie says quickly, looking at Wesley for backup.

  “We could all hang out,” he says. “Make some popcorn, watch a movie. We could even make a blanket fort, just like old times.”

  His cajoling tone makes me chuckle. Wesley and I grew up next door to Evie; our parents were best friends and, since all three of us kids were so close in age, we were like one big, happy family who did everything together. For our entire childhood, we had the run of our downstairs rec room, with its ancient TV and VCR, ’70s-era floral-print couch and chairs, and games and toys galore.

  “Some other time,” I say. “And I mean that. No one builds a blanket fort like you do, Wes.”

  Evie murmurs something I can’t hear and slips out of the room. Knowing her, she wants to give Wesley and me a moment alone, even though I’m the one trying to leave so they can be alone.

  Wesley crosses the room and slings his arm over my shoulders. “You good, Little Star?”

  I smile at the nickname. Wesley was eleven or so when some old movie piqued his curiosity about the Latin language. When he discovered it was no longer taught in school, he took it upon himself to learn some of the basics. One of the first things he discovered was that Stella means ‘star’ in Latin, and so he started calling me ‘Little Star’. He’s only sixteen months older than I am, but he’s always taken his role as big brother and protector seriously. Until recently, I hadn’t he
ard the nickname in years, but he’s gone back to using it, along with Evie’s childhood nickname: Buttercup, after their shared love of The Princess Bride.

  “All good,” I say, leaning against him. “It won’t always be like this.”

  He eases me away so he can look at me, his eyes questioning. I didn’t even mean to say the words in the first place. Now isn’t the time to elaborate on how I’m struggling with feeling like a complete and utter failure in life, so I say, “Me living here with Evie and you living in the basement at home.”

  Wesley has only been back in town for a week and a half, and he’s been staying in the converted basement apartment of our childhood home. Even though it’s a self-contained apartment with its own entrance, Mom and Dad adore Evie, so if she shows up to meet Wesley at the house, their plans inevitably get side-tracked.

  Wesley’s face creases in a frown. “You know I never mind having you around, right? And neither does Evie. She’s told me repeatedly that she’s not in any hurry for you to move out.”

  “I know. She’s been amazing, which is part of why I feel bad for encroaching on your time together.”

  “Stella.” Wesley shifts to face me, planting both hands on my shoulders. “You’re not encroaching, you’re not in the way, you’re not cramping our style. Wait, do people still say that? ‘Cramping our style’?”

  “I’m the wrong person to ask about stuff like that,” I say with a laugh.

  One side of his mouth turns up. “Anyway, you get my point. We want you around. We love you.” He squeezes my shoulders. “I’ve been in love with Evie since I was a teenager. Believe me when I say I’ve learned to be patient. Getting to be with her at all, no matter who’s around or how many times Mom wants us to come for dinner when we planned to be alone, it’s still a dream come true to finally be with her.”

  His words, paired with his love-struck expression, give me the warm fuzzies. They’re accompanied by a bittersweet mix of sadness and envy. Hoping to cover up the myriad of emotions I’m sure are painted all over my face, I step into my brother’s arms and give him a tight hug. “That was nauseatingly sweet, and you two are disgustingly adorable together. I couldn’t be happier for you.”

  Wesley chuckles and shoves me gently away from him. Using the momentum of his push, I spin around and walk down the hall.

  “Nice jammies, by the way,” he calls after me.

  I run into Evie as she’s coming out of her bedroom. The grin on her face tells me she heard at least the last thing Wesley said. “I told him how much you love The Mandalorian,” she says, motioning to my pajamas. “He wanted to watch it, but I suggested the three of us watch it together.”

  “Okay, now I really need to go. You two are sickeningly nice and I can’t handle it, nor do I deserve it.” I laugh as I turn away, but Evie grips my arm to stop me.

  “I know you well enough to know you’re kidding but also not kidding.” The sympathy in her eyes makes my skin feel too tight. “Did you really cancel on Tannis or did something else happen?”

  I sigh. I should have known Evie wouldn’t let this go. At least I can take comfort in the fact she’s not the type to say ‘I told you so’. Well, not when it comes to stuff like this anyway.

  “Both. She texted to say she was going to be late again, and something in me snapped and finally saw that enough was enough. I had this sudden epiphany about how I keep making terrible decisions and settling for all the wrong things. And people.”

  Evie nods slowly. I can tell she wants to hug me; normally I’d be all for that, but I’m afraid her loving embrace would push me over the proverbial edge right now. “You’re still healing, Stella. Lars really messed with your head.”

  Now my skin is not only too tight, it’s also covered in goosebumps at the mention of my ex-husband. And not the good kind of goosebumps you get when something exciting happens or a person you like accidentally-on-purpose brushes their fingers against your bare skin. More like the kind you get while watching a horror movie and sense impending doom for whoever’s on screen.

  “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.” Evie gently touches my cheek. “The way Wesley, Hollie, and Louisa see you too,” she adds, referencing our other two lifelong friends. “You deserve the best, Stella. Stop settling for being an option instead of the priority you deserve to be.”

  She’s not saying anything she hasn’t already said before. Prior to meeting Lars, Evie and I shared everything from the mundane to the extraordinary and all things in between. I knew Evie wasn’t fond of Lars, but I brushed off her tentative warnings, along with the red flags he presented. As my marriage fell apart, I was finally honest with Evie about Lars not being the man I thought he was when I fell in love with him and agreed to marry him. When I moved back to Bellevue, Evie and I made a pact to always be honest with each other going forward. Because of that, she’s never hidden her feelings about Tannis.

  Evie must sense I’m not up for talking about this, because she gives an almost imperceptible nod. I could kiss her when her expression lightens from sympathy to something almost playful. “Are you sure you won’t stay and hang out? Or you can keep your messy little nest in the living room and Wesley and I can hang out in my room.”

  I wrinkle my nose. While Evie’s condo is mostly soundproof, I don’t want to think about my brother and my best friend doing…whatever it is they’d be doing behind closed doors while I watch TV on the couch. “Hard pass, but thanks,” I say, and she laughs. “I’ll head to Bellevue Village. I can put in ages wandering around the shops there, and I’ll pop into Cravings and see if Willow is working.”

  “If you’re sure…”

  “Positive,” I say firmly.

  Her uncertainty wavers as I smile and hold my arms out for a hug. She snuggles against me, and I swallow another sigh as I hold on tightly. I mentally repeat what I said to Wesley a few minutes ago: it won’t always be like this.

  I hold onto that thought—and my best friend—like a lifeline.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Bellevue Village is a huge entertainment park on the outskirts of the city. Until a few years ago, it was a Christmas theme park, only open a few months of the year. Unlike my three closest friends who are all successful in their chosen careers, I’ve always moved from job to job, taking what I can get in the hopes I’d someday find my calling. It hasn’t happened yet, but the two seasons I worked as one of Santa’s elves before I got married and moved to Toronto were among the highlights of my working life.

  Even though I’ve been to the Village a million times, it never ceases to fill me with wonder. It’s like stepping into a different world, one filled with shops and eateries, rides and games, and happy people of all ages bustling around. Whenever I come here, I feel as if I can leave my troubles at the giant front gates. I know they’ll be there waiting for me when I leave, but for a short time, I get to put down that emotional baggage and feel the blessed relief of weightlessness.

  I pause outside the bookstore, admiring the seasonal display in the front window. Through the glass, I watch as a trio of tween girls huddle around a stack of books they’ve accumulated. They remind me of my friends and me at that age, and how we would pool our allowances to buy and share books—specifically Baby-Sitters Club and Sweet Valley High books—among other things.

  Someone pauses next to me. My attention shifts to the reflection in the window’s glass. I’m not sure whether the man beside me is gazing inside or just likes to stand unnecessarily close to strangers. I narrow my eyes slightly, trying to bring his face into focus. For a second, a younger, familiar face fixes itself over his, making me think my walk down memory lane has scrambled my brain.

  “Can you imagine if this place had been here when we were teenagers?” the man asks. “Our parents would have had to pry us away.”

  His tone is pitched low, as if he’s talking to someone he knows rather than a random woman he encountered at an amusement park. I turn my head slowly, already knowing I’ll be met with a pair of dark brown eyes.