by Claire, Ava
Uh oh. I booked it down the corridor, pushing into my office as I dropped my smile and picked up a frown. The desk was littered with takeout cups and empty pastry bags. I would have let the mess and clear disrespect for my things slide if she hasn't made herself at home, feet up on the desk, powdered sugar covered digits typing away on my keyboard.
"What the hell?"
She froze mid-sentence, fingers posed above the keys, aqua eyes jumping from the computer screen. "Where the hell have you been?" She kicked her worn chucks off the table and stood up. Her getup was somewhere between rockabilly and cocaine chic. She paired a sheer, oversized blouse with liquid leggings. Her hair was tucked under a trucker hat. The only thing worth noting was a lack of ten layers of makeup on her face. Without the stuff gunked on her eyelids, I had no problem seeing just how pissed she was.
I put aside my annoyance at the mess. "I was at the hospital."
Her anger dissipated. "What? Are you okay?"
I nodded, moving to the chair in front or my desk and balling up a pile of empty wrappers and lowering myself with a sigh. "I'm fine. It's Jacob's mother that's not doing so well." I looked up at her. "Heart attack."
She peered at me curiously. "I'm sorry?"
I gave her the smallest of smile. "We don't get along, but I don't actively wish her ill."
She smirked, repeating the two words with more authority. "I'm sorry. For Jacob." She made a face like she was remembering she'd come for a reason and it wasn't to deliver a verbal Hallmark card. "So when were you gonna tell me about Project Save Poor Mia?"
I cringed. "Yeah, about that..." She stood there, hand on hip, waiting. What could I say? It was bad form to gossip about one client to another. "I'll take care of it."
"Righttt," she said, voicing dripping with sarcasm. "Just how are you going to take care of it? I have people texting and emailing me, asking me things like, 'Is Rachel as hot in person as she is onscreen?' and 'How sweet is Rachel for trying to help you?'. As if I needed any other proof that this whole thing had nothing to do with me."
I stared at her in awe. I knew Mia was smarter than people gave her credit for, but I couldn't stop the swell of pride at how she'd come here and confronted me, calling bullshit—even if her anger at me was misplaced. Someone that didn't care about their life wouldn't care, but Mia did.
I shook off the moment, tightening the bun at the nape of my neck. "You have every right to be angry at this situation-"
"At the situation?" she snapped. "No, I'm mad at her—and I'm disappointed in you."
That hurt worse than any blow she could have dealt. We'd only known each other for a month, but it felt like I'd always known her. She could be a bit much with the texts and early morning calls, but despite my grumblings I loved that I was the number she called when she was stressed or stuck in some sketchy spot or couldn't sleep. She was more than my client. She was my friend. Which is why I was gonna break the cardinal rule. Well, that and wanting one less person to think Rachel was as kind and relatable as she seemed.
"This morning was my first time hearing about the organization."
"But Rachel said..." Mia didn't finish, cherubic face scrunched as she went through the whole thing again. She slid against the edge of the desk, sending trash fluttering to the floor. She ignored my glare. "I don't get it."
"Rachel and I aren't exactly besties." So I hadn't flat out said that she was a psycho bitch that made breaking up me and Jacob her favorite hobby. I figured I deserved a pass for that alone.
She twisted her mouth into a scowl, still trying to connect the dots. "But why would you two..." The scowl rounded into an O. "A boy. It's always a boy."
"Hey!" I said, feeling a little defensive. He was mine first came to mind even though that wasn't exactly true. He didn't care about her the way he cared about me, but he still used the words. Words that made an already unstable chick skitter over the edge.
I steered the convo away from romance. "We're gonna get a handle on it. I'll take care of it, okay?"
I should have known it was too late for that. I’d already given her a taste of the scandal. The genie was out of the bottle and she had a front row seat to the drama.
“So what’s her evil plan to steal Jacob away from you?” she asked excitedly.
I tried to backpedal. “I didn’t mean it that way. There’s a little tension between the two of us, but that’s because she and Jacob used to date-”
“Oh my god, Rachel and Jacob used to be a thing?!”
My face reddened at how dreamily she said it. Like they were some fairytale come true. Match made in heaven. Truth was, their story would have been a totally different one than his and mine. No one would have asked what he saw in her because anyone with two eyes would be able to see how perfect they were together. No one would have said that he must ‘really love her’ or that their future kids were lucky to have his genes in the mix. They’d say their kids hit the genetic lottery.
Mia waved her hand in front of my face. “Are you okay?”
I blinked, forcing a smile before dropping the lie. “Y-yeah.”
The connection we had called my bluff. Or maybe I was just a horrible actress. “You guys are a cuter couple.”
“Right,” I said said with a snort. “She’s gorgeous, he’s gorgeous. It’s like a real-life movie.”
“And you’re gorgeous. But not just on the outside, on the inside too.” When I flashed her a weak smile she added, “Haven’t you been reading the tabloids? I’m selfish and vapid. I wouldn’t socialize with you if you weren’t at least a 9.”
I chuckled at that, stopping when the phone on my desk rattled to life. I leaned forward and grabbed it, hearing Natasha’s surly voice on the other end.
“Jacob’s on the line,” she barked. “He says it’s important.”
I clicked over, dread returning. “Is your mom ok?”
“Can you come back to the hospital? She wants to see you as soon as possible.”
****
I clutched the bouquet of roses as I stepped onto the elevator, feeling all the apprehension from being in a hospital multiply considering who I was there to visit. The doors slid open and the nurse from earlier was waiting near the desk.
She gave me a bright smile. "It must mean a lot to know that you're the second person she asked to see. I wish I had that kind of relationship with my mother-in-law."
It meant something alright, I just wasn't sure if it meant something good or something bad.
I kept that to myself. "Is it okay if I go on back?"
"Of course." Her hand dipped below the desk and the secure doors swung open. "Room I-950."
I started down the sterile hall, each step hollow. The corridor seemed too quiet for an intensive care unit. I'd been expecting noise: nurses rushing into rooms with defibrillators, wails of pain and agony, the buzz of all the machines used to keep those bad off with one foot in the world of the living. Instead, it was eerily silent. Like walking through a graveyard.
I hitched a breath when a door thirty feet away flew open like a thunderclap, the familiar, sleekly muscled frame of Jacob stepping into the hall.
I opened my mouth but left the greeting unsaid when I saw his head was bowed. On the phone. Probably business.
Whatever it was must be serious because his demeanor was terse and unyielding. I approached him slowly, frowning as his words reverberated through the quiet.
"I swear to god if you call this number again-"
My flats squealed on the linoleum and he whirled to face me, instantly going from rage to something softer. Eyes still on me he ended the call and started in my direction.
"Who was that? Everything okay?"
The nerve beneath his eye flickered before he wrapped me in a warm embrace. "It is now."
He was definitely avoiding my first question, but his ill mother was in the room a few feet away. I'd give him a pass for now. Besides, the longer those arms were around me, the more everything else dimmed. Work, worry, everything
except his scent, his body didn't matter. I held onto him for dear life.
His hold slackened but I kept my cheek against his chest. "She wants to see me."
"Yes." My arms tightened, but he broke the connection long enough to take the sides of my face in his hands. He caressed me with his gaze. "I don't know if it was the close call with death or what, but she'll be on her best behavior."
Yeah...best behavior for Alicia Whitmore or the average person?
I gripped his hand. "You'll be there?"
He nodded, an understanding smile curving his lips. "Ready?"
He wisely didn't wait for verbal confirmation or we might've never gone through the door.
We stepped inside. The room was as regal as I remembered Mia's being. Lush furnishings that reminded me more of some fancy hotel than a hospital. Alicia wasn't strapped to the bed though—she may as well have been considering all the cords snaking around her, binding her in place. And just like Mia, she was a ghost of her former self. Body frail, all skin and bones beneath the hospital gown. Her salt and pepper hair was oily and hung limply around her splotchy face. With her eyes closed I got this sick image of her laid in a casket.
I gasped when her eyes flew open.
Thunder flashed in the gray as she took me in. "I don't look that terrible, do I?"
"No," I squeaked.
She gave me a signature look full of attitude. "You're a horrible liar. I guess that's a good thing though." She winced as she grabbed the remote and brought herself to a seated position. "Come closer. I'm not contagious."
I was ready to tug Jacob along for the ride, but I remembered the last thing I wanted was for her to see me weak and unable to stand on my own.
He's right over there, I told myself, releasing his hand. And it wasn't like Alicia was gonna attack me, she had IV lines coming out all over the place. Truthfully, I was more worried about the blows she'd dole out with her words. The scars invisible to the naked eye, but inside, bright and purpled. Memories of that letter I'd found months ago, when she seemed so excited to meet me. And then our first interaction when she offered me a blank check to go away. Every run in after compounded until we hit the apology. It would take more than 'I'm sorry' to rebuild the bridge between us. And the last thing I wanted was for her to see just how much she affected me.
I walked to her bedside, chin up, posture perfect, eyes cool and unaffected. "Jacob said you wanted to see me?"
She cleared her throat and reached for a styrofoam cup. The clink of ice echoed as she tilted a few cubes in her mouth before responding. "Jacob, can you give us a moment?"
His gaze shifted from her to me, silently asking me if I was okay. I gave him a slight nod.
"I'll be right outside."
We watched him go, door clicking shut behind him. She put the styrofoam cup back on the table.
"I know you don't like me."
So we were jumping right in. "Alicia-"
"Don't bother denying it."
"Oh I wasn't gonna deny it," I said simply. "I haven't liked you since you tried to bribe me to get me away from your son."
She licked her lips. "Fair enough. I know the things I did to you, to Jacob, are enough to damn me. And what I'm about to share with you is cliché, but it's the truth."
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious. I crossed my arms, waiting.
"When I felt the first chest pain then it multiplied until I was somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness, I saw my life flash before my eyes."
Oh geez.
I won't bore you with my childhood or Carlton," she continued. "There was Jacob, only a few moments old, pure and screeching in my arms. He was such a beautiful baby. And I could see how much he loved me. Me—with all my faults. Me that needed someone that cared so badly." Her eyes were filled with tears and one dashed down her cheek. "I remembered everything I missed, every time I hurt him and that was the biggest regret of my life. And you are my second."
I froze, sure I'd misheard her. "What?"
“When I first heard about you, learned how in love Jacob was with this feisty young woman, I knew that being there for the two of you was my second chance. At that point, Jacob and I hadn't talked for nearly three years and the fact that he wanted me to meet you was an olive branch I didn't deserve.
I won't go into the same spiel about how I thought I was protecting him, because there's no excuse for things I've said and done to you. But I don't want that to be our story, Leila. I want to be more than your in-law. I want to be your friend. I want to give you the best damn wedding this world has ever seen."
My chin trembled and I bit my lip, nervous and apprehensive and another emotion I wasn't ready to attribute to her. Optimistic. Hopeful.
I still didn't want to do a monstrosity of a wedding, but she'd just told me her life flashed before her eyes and she realized she wanted a better relationship with me. With Jacob. Despite all the things she’d done, it counted for something.
She was looking at me.
Vulnerable.
Waiting.
I flashed her a smile. "You get some rest, okay?"
I left the room, seeing Jacob standing over near the window. He turned, like he could sense me. I rushed into his arms, not sure if I was ready to trust her, but knowing I could trust his arms.
"I take it she told you how her life flashed before her eyes and she saw the error of her ways." He stroked my back, knowing just where to touch me to help me relax."I want to believe this time is different, but I've been burned by her before."
I knew he was waiting for an answer from me, but I didn't have one. I wasn't sure if her near death experience meant she changed or should get a pardon or even deserved one.
"Just hold me," I sighed.
"That I can do." He pressed his lips against my forehead and started to pull me in before he stopped. "I forgot to ask you last night because we were...indisposed, but you told me you wanted to talk about the wedding?"
I looked up into his eyes, the same shape as his mother's. I want to give you the best damn wedding this world has ever seen.
"It wasn't important," I lied. He brought me back in without another word. Without catching the lie at all.
Maybe I was a better actress than I thought.
Part Twelve
The Billionaire’s Forever
Getting the chance to drive Jacob's 'baby' should have been a momentous occasion. I'd fallen in lust with the Maserati the moment I saw it. With its smooth lines, contours and an engine that you could feel vibrating all over your body, I often imagined what it would feel like to wrap my hands around the steering wheel. To feel the wind whipping my hair as I set the asphalt on fire.
But when he handed me his keys and opted to drive my Sonata, all I felt was an aching wariness. Apparently Alicia Whitmore ‘didn’t do sports cars’. She looked even less thrilled about riding in my sedan.
I watched Jacob ease his mother into the passenger seat then slide behind the wheel. I took a few steadying breaths and started the Maserati, following their car to Alicia’s hotel.
Before you think I'm the worst, I was thrilled when she made a quick recovery. The doctor said she was practically at a hundred percent and green-lit her discharge from the hospital. I couldn’t have been happier—for both human decency and selfish reasons. Selfishly because it meant Jacob could spend more time at home instead of the hospital. And I had compassion for the woman and was genuinely glad that she'd recovered after the heart attack and was doing well enough to be released.
It didn’t change the fact that I had an unsettling feeling at the bottom of my stomach. Her clean bill of health also meant she was doing well enough to make good on her promise to give me and Jacob ‘the best wedding since the royal affair’.
Our definitions of 'best' differed. Mine wasn't prestigious enough to put in history books. I just wanted something small and memorable because it focused on me and Jacob. Alicia's concept called for an army of people. From her rumblings as she ignored
the doctors pleas to take it easy as she plugged away on her Mac, she was going to fix the national economy crisis with our ceremony alone.
She hired Lindy Alistair, one of the most prolific (and expensive) wedding planners in the States, who'd been ferociously corresponding with Alicia since she paid her monstrous fee. I had to grin and bear it through conference calls, nodding hesitantly as they came up with the concept for the wedding. A concept that I’d been trying to escape since Jacob and I first started dating:
A Cinderella Story.
The only thing we'd agreed on was that we didn't want it held in a church. They'd decided to do it at Greenwald Gardens instead, a historic, Victorian house just outside the city with acres of lush green landscaping and marble statues that screamed money. Lindy called it ‘delightfully luxe’.
I’d only seen pictures online—and I hated it.
As we eased onto the bustling street, angled toward Alicia's hotel, I kicked myself. Not literally, but mentally, I was bruised from head to toe. With every smile, every nod, every lie, I dug myself deeper in a hole, suffocated by regret. I was dreading my own wedding. It was supposed to be the happiest day of my life and I was scrambling to pick a date so I could start a countdown until it was over.
"What's wrong with you?" I said aloud, the scold echoing through the empty car. I didn't bother with a response because it would be a little strange having a conversation with myself and also because I knew the answer. Jacob was worth billions of dollars. Small and simple wasn't in his dictionary. All eyes were on us, everyone and their mama already verbally affirming that he'd downgraded by choosing me. If we didn't have the huge affair that all the gossip magazines and shows were hinting at, completing the Cinderella narrative they'd created—
They? Them? Why are you listening to everyone but you? And Jacob? It is your wedding, right?
But that wasn't exactly true. Jacob was a public figure. And as his fiancé, his future wife, so was I. That meant whether I liked it or not, the public pinned their hopes and dreams on us. It was the price of fame.
