CHAPTER 13
ZANE
My head is pounding when I wake up , and a strange grunt escapes from my throat. My body aches, every muscle sore as I slowly open my eyes, trying to take in my surroundings.
My room looks... fine. Too fine.
“Good morning, husband,” Mia says, her voice light and cheerful, as she flashes me a smile that only deepens my confusion.
What the fuck?
“Mia, what are you doing in my room?” I croak, struggling to sit up, trying to make sense of everything.
She looks perfectly at ease, wearing my shirt—no, not just wearing it—lounging in it. She isn’t wearing anything underneath, and that sight is enough to finally drag me out of my groggy haze and into full-blown panic mode. What the hell happened last night?
Fuck.
Fuck.
I remember tequila. A lot of tequila. The beach. And then... nothing. It’s all a blur.
“What the fuck, Mia? How did this happen?” My voice is rough with disbelief.
“Well...” she says, staring at me for a moment, like she’s trying to figure out how to explain it. “You don’t remember?”
“Should I?” I laugh bitterly, my head still spinning. “We were trashed last night.”
“I handle tequila pretty well. I’ve been drinking it since I was thirteen. Part of my training, you know? So I wouldn’t say I was that drunk,” she responds, casually shrugging, like it’s no big deal.
“Mia!” My voice comes out like a warning. “What the hell happened?” I asked, my voice still shaky with confusion.
"Isn't it obvious, silly? We got married," she says, her tone light and excited, as she proudly holds up what she calls our wedding ring—aka a cheap plastic one—I can’t help but stare.
Fuck my life.
I blink, trying to process her words, still feeling like I’m trapped in some kind of bizarre dream. “Wait, wait. You’re saying we got married in Los Angeles? Last night?” The idea of it doesn’t quite hit me until she nods, her expression so casual, like this was the most natural thing in the world.
“Yeah,” she says with a little shrug, her fingers absently twisting the hem of my shirt. “Before, we went to the studio. You were, uh, pretty... ‘inspired’ by the tequila. But you were really sure about the tattoos. I didn’t want to push, but you were really convincing. So, we just went for it.”
“We went to the studio?” I ask, still trying to process the mess I’ve gotten myself into.
“Yeah. I did some pretty nice tattoos on you,” she grins mischievously, like she’s holding back a laugh. “Like that Dahlia on your arm. You know, for resilience, since you’re always acting like you're made of steel. And, uh… well, I wrote Mia right here," she says, tapping close to my groin, and fuck my fucking life. “And, of course, there’s the Hello Kitty tattoo on your ribs, because, honestly? I figured, hey, why not? It's cute!"
I freeze, my face going pale as the reality of it all sinks in. A flower. Mia near my groin. And a freaking Hello Kitty on my ribs?
“Holy shit,” I mutter, looking at her in disbelief. “You really did that?”
She shrugs, not even trying to hide her amusement. “You were the one who asked for it. You said I was ‘the best artist you’d ever met,’ and that you wanted to make a statement. You didn’t really give me much choice, to be honest.”
I stare at her in disbelief, my brain desperately trying to put the pieces together. I don’t remember any of that. I don’t even remember walking into a chapel, let alone exchanging vows with Mia.
I run my hand through my hair, trying to grasp the weight of her words. “I was too drunk. Hell, I didn’t even know what I was doing. How could you let me do this?”
She shrugs again, like it’s no big deal. “It was your choice. You were the one who said it.” She hesitates for a moment, then adds quietly, “I thought you wanted me. You told me you did, remember?”
A heavy silence fills the room, and I feel the weight of her words sink deep into my chest. “Fuck.”
“You said that was the only way you could be mine,” she answers, the words coming so easily, like she’s said them a hundred times before. “And you told me I was too young to marry a forty-something guy, and maybe I should just marry you instead.”
What the fuck?
I’ve gotten drunk plenty of times and ended up making questionable decisions, but marrying her? That was a whole new level of messed up. I mean, I thought I’d just get drunk and do the usual, but somehow, she pulled off the impossible—getting me so far gone that I actually got married .
I feel something shift under the covers and glance down.
My eyes lock on a tuxedo cat—of course, there’s a cat now. In my apartment. In my fucking life.
“Figaro’s staring at us like that because he’s hungry,” Mia comments, completely unfazed by the absurdity of the situation.
“Can you explain to me why we have a cat?” I ask, not even sure if I want to know the answer.
“Well, I saw him right after we left the chapel,” Mia says, smiling fondly at the cat. “And he reminded me of the cat from Pinocchio. You said I could take him home and make him our first child. So... here he is.”
I will never drink again.
“Fuck!” I bury my head in my pillow, letting out a frustrated groan. This day couldn’t possibly get any weirder.
But as I lie there, trying to hold onto whatever semblance of sanity I have left, the pounding in my head intensifies. Reality sets in, and it hits me like a freight train: I’m married. Married. To Mia. With a fucking cat. I can’t even process it.
“I... I need water,” I mumble, dragging myself out of bed, trying to ignore the weight of my hangover pressing down on me.
“Want me to get it for you?” Mia asks, her voice sweet, almost comforting, as if nothing is wrong—like we aren’t in the middle of a complete disaster.
“No, I’ll... get it.” I manage to stand, though every step feels like I’m wading through concrete. As I walk into the kitchen, I pass the tuxedoed cat—Figaro—who, apparently, is now a permanent fixture in my life. My first child.
Shit. What was I thinking?
I fill the glass with water, trying to clear my head. Trying to make sense of all this.
I find a wedding certificate on the kitchen
The paper is creased, like someone’s been gripping it too hard, folding and unfolding it in their hands. But the embossed seal at the bottom—County of Los Angeles—is solid, unshakable. The words at the top hit like a punch to the gut.
"Certificate of Marriage."
My name stares back at me in cold, official print.
And at the bottom, in black ink, our signatures. Mine. Hers. A goddamn confirmation that this isn’t just some drunken fever dream—it’s real. I drag a hand down my face, heart pounding.
“Fuck.”
Married to Mia. A cat in the living room. Everything is wrong, but it also feels... I don’t know, real in a way that terrifies me.
“Are you okay?” Mia’s voice snaps me from my thoughts. I turn to find her standing in the kitchen doorway, hugging herself, her expression now soft, but something in her eyes—something sad—is too noticeable to ignore.
“I’m... trying to figure out what happened,” I say, my voice shaky despite my attempts to stay calm. "How the hell did we end up like this?"
“I thought you wanted to...” Her voice cracks, and the weight of her words hits me harder than I’m ready for. “I wouldn’t have done this if I didn’t think you wanted it.”
Shit. She's about to cry. I can already see it, and I can’t deal with that right now.
“I... I was drunk, Mia. I didn’t—” I stop myself, struggling for the right words. The truth is, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to explain that this whole thing has blindsided me. But seeing her face, her pain, makes my insides twist with guilt.
She takes a step back, and I watch as her eyes fill with unshed tears. The sight makes my chest tighten.
“You’re upset that you married me,” she says, her voice soft but firm. It’s not a question. It’s a statement, and it stabs me right through the heart.
“Mia, it’s not that...” I begin, but the words are so inadequate. What is this? I don’t even know. I don’t know what I’m feeling. I’m not ready for this, not for any of it. But I’m here, and so is she, and the look on her face makes me feel like trash.
“I thought...” She bites her lip, holding back tears. “I thought you wanted me, Zane. You said you wanted me. I thought... I thought it would finally be something good. Something I could hold on to.”
Oh, shit. She’s crying now. The sound of her muffled sobs cracks something inside me. I was angry, confused, but now... now, I just feel like the biggest idiot in the world.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I say, walking over to her, placing my hands on her shoulders. I can’t fix this, but I have to try. “It was just... too fast. And I wasn’t exactly sober. You know that.”
She lets out a small, tearful laugh, and it’s so strange, so heartbreaking, that I don’t know how to respond. “I know. You were so drunk you asked the priest if he could put tequila in the holy water.”
That makes me laugh, even if it’s dark and forced. What the hell is wrong with me?
“I’m sorry for acting like an idiot,” I say, squeezing her shoulders lightly, wishing I could take everything back. “But you have to understand, I’m just trying to process all of this. It doesn’t mean that I... don’t like you or anything, okay?”
She finally looks at me, her eyes red from crying, and asks, her voice trembling with hope, “Do you like me?”
And in that moment, I realize that maybe, just maybe, I don’t have all the answers, but I do know one thing: I can’t keep running from what’s right in front of me.
I pause for a second, trying to find the right answer. Because honestly, I do like her. Of course I do. Mia is… special. Intense as hell, but special.
But liking her, or even being attracted to her, doesn’t mean I want to marry her. It doesn’t work that way. Or at least, it shouldn’t.
"Yes, Mia. I like you. It's just... getting married like that, out of the blue? It's not exactly what I expected when I woke up today." I try to smile, hoping to ease the tension, but her lips tremble, as if she's unsure whether to smile or keep crying.
She takes a deep breath, wiping her eyes with my sleeve. "I just... I've never had anyone who really wanted to be with me, you know? So when you said that, I... I thought it meant something."
The lump in my throat tightens, and guilt gnaws at me. Shit. I'm such an asshole.
"Hey," I say, my voice softening. "I'm an idiot, okay? A drunk, impulsive idiot, but that doesn’t mean you're not awesome."
This day couldn’t get any weirder.
Here I am, consoling a girl I accidentally married after getting drunk—the same girl I'm supposed to be watching because she just woke up from a three-year coma. A girl who spent part of her life locked away in a basement and a brothel.
And I just made her life more complicated by marrying her.
I’m a sucker.
Mia looks at me, still a little hesitant, but something in her eyes relaxes. And then, finally, she smiles. A small smile, but it’s there.
"You’re an idiot," she says, her tone playful but affectionate. "But a cute idiot."
I can’t help but laugh. "Well, at least there's that."
I run my hand through my hair, trying to ease the tension still hanging in the air. "So... what are we going to do about Figaro?"
She grins wider now. "You said he was our first child, remember?"
I roll my eyes, chuckling. "Of course I did. And now we have to take care of him."
"I guess we could go get him some stuff," she suggests, her eyes brightening at the thought. For some reason, the idea of doing something as simple and normal as buying things for a cat feels comforting. Like maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something less chaotic.
"Okay, let's go. Let’s take care of our first child," I say, laughing at the absurdity of the situation.
And so, with Mia by my side and a tuxedo cat that’s apparently now part of my life, we leave the apartment, ready to face the rest of this insane day.
I don’t know how I went from freaking out about getting impulsively married to being in a pet supply store, buying things for my new cat with Mia. But I mean, it kind of makes sense. I can’t exactly let the little feline go hungry.
I shouldn't have bought into Mia's idea of this "You're mine" thing. I should have stopped her when she tried to kill my client. But now, it's too late, and we’re married.
I can’t even process the idea of an annulment right now. I’ve just turned what was supposed to be a few weeks of checking in on her into an even more complicated and messy situation.
"Look at that Mickey Mouse outfit!" Mia says excitedly, pointing to a tiny cat-sized costume.
I smile despite myself. I don’t even know how she knows about Mickey Mouse, considering she spent years locked away in a basement and a brothel. But apparently, they let her watch TV, and now she’s got this very Hollywood view of the world. Lucky for her, Los Angeles gets that vibe. But unfortunately, our trip to LA will have to end at some point, and so will our wedding.
I’m twenty six, and I’m going to annul my marriage. I think I’ve transcended the boundaries of messed up and lonely.
You could just not cancel.
Wait, where the hell did that thought come from?
I don’t have time to be married. I’ve got tattoo workshops and everything. I’m not the type to settle down in one place.
I don’t even go to my house in Dallas—not that I mind. I bought it to keep some distance from my family in Austin, and it does the job.
I feel like the biggest idiot in the world for putting this girl in a situation where she’s going to spend the rest of her life with me.
I’m a fucking mess. A broken man who’ll never be able to give her what she deserves.
I’m the kind of guy who takes what’s best and doesn’t hold on.
It’s been working great for me all these years.
But Mia is slowly turning my life upside down.
My phone buzzes, and it’s a text from Carter.
Between getting drunk, getting married, and buying clothes for our cat, I haven’t had much time to talk to my business partner.
Carter: Considering you missed your appointments today, I take it you still haven’t gotten rid of the girl—and she’s already causing trouble.
Shit. I completely forgot.
Me: Dude, you gotta find a way to get along with Mia... stop this fuckin bullshit.
Carter: Why? it's just for a few weeks, right?
Me: It’s a little more complicated than that.
Carter: Define complicated. I don’t like her. I don’t want her on the trip. She’s already making us lose money. I don’t like that.
Me: You’re loaded. Shut up.
Carter: And the parties—you’re not showing up to any of them anymore.
I wish I could blame Mia for that, but the truth is, I just don’t feel like it. I don’t need to promote myself anymore—people know my brand. If they want a tattoo, they go to one of my studios. Showing up to bullshit events feels pointless now. Carter, though? He eats that attention up. I let him have it.
Carter: I don’t like her.
Me: Yeah? Well, too bad. Mia’s staying a while, so deal with it.
Carter: Why? I thought you were just babysitting for now.
Me: We got married.
I wait. And wait. And there’s no response from Carter.
He’s pissed.
I can deal with him later.
I look ahead and realize there’s no sign of Mia. She’s gone. Completely gone.
Shit. Shit.
I lost her.
I look frantically around the pet store, my heart racing as I search for Mia. How did she disappear so quickly? She was just there, smiling at that Mickey Mouse outfit, like the world was one big joke. Now the thought of her being gone, even for a second, fills me with an unexpected dread. I may not be ready for this wedding, but the last thing I want is to lose Mia in a place like this.
I walk past the shelves of cat food, past the colorful toys that look more like they’re for kids than animals, and there’s no sign of her. Shit. Why hadn’t I been more attentive? But of course, with everything on my mind—the wedding, the cat, Carter bugging me—I didn’t think I needed to keep an eye on her.
I walk up the aisle to the animal clothing section. And there, finally, I see her. She’s cuddling a giant bear, fast asleep.
Of all the places to find Mia, I never expected to see her so... calm.
I stop at the entrance to the aisle, watching her for a moment. She’s lying on the linoleum floor, holding the teddy bear like it’s a cozy blanket. Her face, usually marked by that mischievous smile, is now completely serene. Mia, the woman who drinks tequila like it’s water and threatens people’s lives without blinking, is now sleeping on the floor, holding a teddy bear like a child.
Something inside me softens. For a second, the chaos of the day fades away. The sight of her like this—vulnerable, innocent even—makes me forget the whirlwind my life has become since Mia entered it.
She looks small and delicate, like all that bold energy and brashness is just a mask—something that suddenly feels so obvious now.
I approach slowly, trying to remain silent. The peaceful expression on her face is... cute, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, it moves me. A part of me wants her to stay like this—calm, out of danger, and away from the shit in the world.
"Hey, Mia..." I whisper, gently trying to wake her. But she doesn’t stir. The bear is pressed against her chest, and the way she’s snuggled against it makes me think she must have exhausted herself somehow. But how? She was so full of energy, so excited about the cat and the Mickey Mouse clothes, and now, suddenly, she’s asleep, like she doesn’t have a care in the world.
Something’s not right.
I kneel down beside her, running my hand gently down her arm, hoping she’ll react. Nothing. She just mumbles something incomprehensible and snuggles deeper into the bear. What the hell?
I decide the best thing to do is get her out of here, so I carefully slide my arms underneath her, one over her shoulder and the other under her legs. She’s light, almost weightless.
As I lift her, the giant bear comes with her, and she sighs softly in my arms as if she’s at peace.
The soft scent of her shampoo invades my senses, and I try to ignore the wave of warmth that floods through me at the feeling of her so close.
Her body is small, delicate, and yet it’s like she’s made of steel inside.
I walk slowly through the store with Mia still asleep in my arms.
Fuck, why is my chest tight like this? I can’t be feeling anything for her.
This doesn’t make sense.
I’m not that guy. I don’t date. I don’t get attached.
But looking at her now, asleep and vulnerable in my arms, I start to wonder if maybe... just maybe... things are changing.
It’s not like I’m in love with her.
But I care about her.
The realization hits me hard, and it’s a bit of a shock because I’m not in the habit of letting people in enough to care about them.
But somehow... I don’t want Mia to get hurt.
She mumbles something in her sleep, and I can’t make it out. Probably some half-formed dream, a jumble of words lost in the fog of her mind. But there’s something in her expression that catches me. Peace, yes, but also a kind of hidden sadness—like even in her sleep, she’s carrying something no one else gets to see, a weight she doesn’t share with anyone.
I walk out of the store, ignoring the curious glances of a woman with a poodle stuffed into a purse, and carefully place Mia in the passenger seat of my car, fastening the seatbelt over her.
As I do, she shifts slightly, her eyes opening for a moment in confusion.
"Zane?" she murmurs, her voice still rough with sleep. "What...?"
"You fell asleep," I say simply, trying to keep the emotions tangled up in my chest from spilling over.
She yawns and rubs her eyes, still clutching the teddy bear like it’s her new best friend. "I... guess I was tired. Sorry."
"It’s okay," I reply with a shrug, trying to keep my tone light. "You looked exhausted."
She gives me a sleepy, genuine smile. "I think you should carry me around more often. It was nice."
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips. "Don’t get used to it."
I start the car and shift it into gear, the engine humming softly beneath us. The silence that follows is easy, like it’s become a comfortable thing between us. Mia drifts in and out of sleep, her head resting against the window, and I focus on the road ahead, steering toward the apartment I’ve booked for my stay in Los Angeles.
I can’t keep this girl. Can I? I barely have a place to call my own, let alone enough space for someone else. But the thought of just letting her go, knowing she’s still adjusting to everything, doesn’t feel right.
It’s not about Charlie anymore. Damn it.
Charlie is going to kill me when she finds out.
I shouldn’t be feeling this way.
I shouldn’t be getting attached.
But as I drive, with Mia beside me, clutching that damn bear, I find myself thinking that maybe—just maybe—things don’t have to be as complicated as they seem.
Maybe I like who I am when she’s around.
Maybe I was never really able to connect with people on an intimate level—not just physically, but emotionally, too.
All that feelings stuff always felt... off, like I was never meant to get too close.
But with her, intimacy feels natural, like drinking water
Maybe I want to keep her close… as my wife.
Fuck.
I’m definitely losing it with that thought, which leads me to wonder—
Maybe Mia is the only thing that makes any sense in this chaos.
Mia already makes my days a little less empty, a little less lonely.
So, as crazy as this seems, given the whole rushed-marriage incident... I’m going to keep her like that.
As my wife.