THERE WAS A CAUGHT

Mia's POV

"That's so sweet of you to ask, Isabel." I kept my voice light and friendly, like we were still best friends instead of whatever the hell this was now. "I'm really touched that you'd think of me for something so important."

"Oh my god, I knew you'd say yes!" She was practically squealing now. "This is going to be perfect. I'll send you all the details tomorrow. The dress fittings start next month so we have plenty of time."

"Yeah, plenty of time." I paused just long enough to let her think she'd won. "Hey, quick question though. Does Chris know you're asking me to do this?"

The silence on the other end stretched for just a second too long.

"Of course he knows," she said, but her voice had lost some of that cheerful edge. "We talked about it together. He thought it was a great idea."

"Right. Because Chris always thinks things through so carefully." I let that sit there between us. "Like when he was fucking me in his apartment while telling you he was at training. Or when he told me he loved me three days before he started dating you. Really thorough guy, our Chris."

The silence now was complete.

"Mia, I don't know what you're trying to—"

"I'm not trying to do anything, Isabel. I'm just making sure we're all being adults here. No hard feelings, right?" I smiled even though she couldn't see it. "I'd love to be your bridesmaid. Wouldn't miss it for the world."

I hung up before she could respond.

My hands were shaking and I was breathing hard like I'd just run a mile. But god, it felt good. It felt so good to finally say something instead of just taking it and crying about it later.

I tossed my phone on the bed and lay back down, staring at the ceiling. The anger was still there, hot and tight in my chest, but underneath it was something else that felt like the beginning of a plan.

If Isabel wanted me at that wedding, fine. I'd be there. I'd smile for all the photos and toast their happy future and play the part of the supportive friend who'd moved on. And then I'd make sure she regretted ever asking me.

I fell asleep thinking about Tom's offer, about walking into that venue on his arm while Chris watched, about the look on Isabel's face when she realized what I'd done.

***

The alarm woke me up at eight and I groaned, rolling over to slap at my phone until it shut up.

But here is the strange thing, I hadn't set an alarm. I never set alarms on Saturdays.

Then the doorbell rang.

I sat up confused, my hair a mess and sleep still crusted in my eyes. The doorbell rang again, longer this time, and I stumbled out of bed and down the hall in just the oversized t-shirt I'd slept in.

I yanked the door open ready to tell whoever it was to go away.

A delivery guy stood there holding the biggest bouquet of flowers I'd ever seen.

Red roses mixed with something white and purple, arranged in this expensive-looking glass vase.

"Delivery for Mia Collins," he said, already holding out the electronic pad for me to sign.

I just stared at the flowers.

"Miss?" He jiggled the pad at me. "I need a signature."

"Yeah, sorry." I scribbled something that barely looked like my name and took the vase from him. It was heavier than I expected and I had to adjust my grip so I didn't drop it.

There was a small card tucked between the roses. I pulled it out and read it while the delivery guy waited, probably hoping for a tip I wasn't going to give him.

*Thanks for welcoming me into your home for the second time. Just reminding you of what we talked about. I'm serious about the money I'd pay you. – T*

I knew who it was immediately…

Tom — Of course it was Tom.

"Miss?" The delivery guy was still standing there. "Is there anything else?"

"What? No. We're done." I stepped back and started to close the door.

"Usually people tip for—"

I shut the door in his face and carried the flowers to the kitchen table, setting them down harder than I needed to. 

The card was still in my hand and I read it again, his words sitting in my brain like he'd actually walked in and said them out loud.

I'm serious about the money.

Like I was some kind of prostitute he could just pay to do whatever he wanted. Except he wasn't asking me to sleep with him.

He was asking me to marry him, to be his wife in front of everyone, to stand next to him at his son's wedding and watch Chris lose his mind.

I tossed the card on the table next to the flowers and went to make coffee.

The rest of the morning disappeared while I sat on the couch doing absolutely nothing productive. I scrolled through my phone, watched half of some show I didn't care about, and mostly just let my brain go in circles.

I kept coming back to the same image. Me walking into that wedding venue in Tom's arms. Wearing something stunning that made Chris remember exactly what he gave up. Watching Isabel's face when she realized I'd brought his father as my date. The cameras, the whispers, the absolute chaos it would cause.

The more I thought about it, the more pissed off I got at myself for ever agreeing to keep our relationship secret. 

Chris had said he didn't want the media attention, didn't want people digging into his personal life when his career was just taking off. And I'd believed him. I'd hidden in his apartment, kept my mouth shut when reporters asked him about his love life, played the understanding girlfriend while he got all the glory.

What an idiot I'd been.

The doorbell rang again and I jumped, sloshing coffee onto my shirt.

Then it rang again. And again. Impatient, insistent rings that could only be one person.

"Don't tell me you're here again," I said out loud as I walked to the door, not even bothering to check the camera first because I knew it was Tom and I was going to tell him to stop sending me flowers and showing up at my apartment like we were actually dating.

I yanked the door open. "I said don't—"

Maggie stood there with her purse on her shoulder and her eyebrows already raised.

My mouth hung open.

"Expecting someone else?" she asked, her voice doing that thing where it sounded like a question but was really an accusation.

"No. I just thought— never mind. What are you doing here?" I stepped back to let her in and she walked past me, already looking around my apartment like she was searching for evidence of something.

"I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd check on you since you've been weird on the phone lately." She stopped in the middle of the living room. "Also I brought you those cookies you like from that bakery you're always talking about but I left them in the car so remind me before I leave."

"Thanks, I guess." I closed the door and followed her into the kitchen where she'd already zeroed in on the flowers sitting on my table like a neon sign.

She picked up the card before I could stop her.

"Maggie, don't—"

She read it out loud. "Thanks for welcoming me into your home for the second time. Just reminding you of what we talked about. I'm serious about the money I'd pay you. T." She looked up at me, her face already pulling into that disappointed frown she'd perfected over the years. "Are you still talking to Chris's father?"

I'd completely forgotten about the flowers. If I had known, I would have packed them all up.

Damn you, Tom!

"It's not what you think," I started, but even I could hear how weak that sounded.

"Then what is it, Mia?" She set the card down and crossed her arms. "Because it sounds like you're seriously considering marrying some old guy for money just to get back at your ex. Which is exactly what I told you not to do."

"He's not some old guy. And I haven't decided anything yet."

"Yet." Maggie's voice went up. "Yet. So you're actually thinking about it."

I didn't answer because what was I supposed to say? That yes, I was thinking about it? That I'd spent all morning imagining walking into Chris's wedding on Tom's arm? That part of me wanted to do it just to see the look on Chris's face?

Maggie shook her head. "This is insane. You know that, right? This is completely insane."

"Maybe," I said quietly. "But maybe I'm tired of being the one who gets screwed over while everyone else gets what they want."

She stared at me for a long moment and I could see her trying to decide if she should yell at me or hug me. She ended up doing neither, just sighed and sat down at my kitchen table next to the stupid flowers.

“You're not getting married to Tom. You won't do that.” Maggie insisted then she paused as if she knew exactly what she had done.

What did Maggie know about Chris's father to be Tom?

“Did you know?” I asked staring deep into her eyes for an answer she won't tell me.