Max's POV
Alissa was fanning herself with one of those tacky fashion magazines she always carried around, the perfume-soaked pages fluttering in the stale car air. Her pale dress clung awkwardly to her figure, sequins catching the light in all the wrong ways, making her look less like she was attending a society wedding and more like she'd crashed a bad nightclub. Six months pregnant or not, she could've tried harder.
I adjusted my cufflinks, jaw tight. "You couldn't have chosen something… better?"
She shot me a glare over the rim of her magazine. "This is designer."
I snorted. "Off a discount rack, maybe."
Her lips pinched together, and she sank into the leather seat with a huff. I didn't bother softening the blow. She'd dragged me down enough lately—the whining, the cons
