CHAPTER 19
ZANE
CHARLIE: SO, I HEARD SOMETHING INTERESTING TODAY —from Carter, of all people. Apparently, you and Mia got married?
Me: Carter is a gossipy little bitch.
Charlie: Holy shit, so it’s true.
Me: You’re just mad I didn’t invite you to the wedding.
Charlie: You’re gonna see me really pissed if you don’t get your ass back to Texas. You have two days.
Grumpy. Someone clearly didn’t have breakfast.
I glance at Mia beside me, fast asleep, her hair sprawled across the pillow. She’s curled up under the covers, breathing softly, and I catch myself staring too long.
I put her next to my bed, because I was honestly afraid she would wake up in the middle of the night and she would run away again, if only she tried to do that I could follow her.
Shit.
I look away and sigh. She’s going to wake up hungover and hungry, which means I need to make sure she doesn’t kill me before noon. I slip out of bed quietly and head to the kitchen.
I make waffles because I know she likes them. The sweet scent fills the apartment, and as the coffee brews, I set an aspirin next to the cup. Because I’m a responsible husband.
...Husband.
I shake the thought off and head back to the bedroom. Mia is already awake, sitting up, looking like she wants to kill someone. In other words, progress.
“Good morning, wife.”
Ops I said the word again.
She blinks, processing my words, then frowns.
“I’m not your wife anymore.”
I sigh dramatically, crossing my arms. “The fuck you aren’t.”
She huffs, dragging a hand down her face like I’m the biggest headache of her morning.
“Zane, let’s just cancel this.”
“How about I give you waffles, and you stay my wife?”
“Waffles aren’t going to fix this.”
“Maybe not, but they’re waffles. You really gonna say no to them?”
Mia gives me a look of pure judgment. “You think you can bribe me with food?”
“Yes,” I reply instantly.
She narrows her eyes. “You know me too well. It’s annoying.”
I smirk and hand her the plate. She takes a waffle, still eyeing me suspiciously.
“That doesn’t mean I forgot about the annulment,” she mutters before taking a bite.
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Mia, why are you punishing me for things I didn’t even say?”
Her expression flickers, but she quickly folds her arms. “So, you’re saying the thought of an annulment never crossed your mind?”
I hesitate for half a second. “It did.”
She raises an eyebrow.
“For about an hour,” I admit. “But then I realized this matters to you. And I don’t want to let you down.”
She blinks, caught off guard by the answer.
“Listen, I’m only going to say this once.” My voice is firmer than I expected. “No matter what the hell Carter says, you’re my wife. And I’m not giving you a fucking annulment. Because that’s not what you really want.”
She looks down, biting her lip. “But that’s what you want… I forced you into it.”
Something in her voice—hesitation, maybe insecurity—makes something in my chest twist.
I step closer, the second time I’ve pushed past the line between us. My hand reaches out, tentative at first, before resting on the counter beside her, almost as if I’m testing the water.
The heat of her skin, so close, feels foreign—intimate in a way that catches me off guard.
I don’t usually do this, don’t usually close the distance like this. But with her, it’s different.
My fingers brush the edge of the counter, just barely touching the same space she’s occupying.
I can feel her tense, but she doesn’t pull away. That makes the air between us feel even more charged, like everything I’m holding back is waiting for a reason to spill over.
I’m not used to this, used to keeping my distance, to letting the silence and the space keep things in check. But here, with Mia, everything seems different.
She doesn’t push me away, doesn’t pull back like I expect.
And it surprises me. More than I want to admit
Touching her should feel strange. Should feel uncomfortable.
But it doesn’t.
It’s easy. The easiest thing I’ve ever done.
I brush the pad of my finger along her cheek, feeling the softness of her skin beneath my touch. Her breath catches, and I see her bite her lip harder, as if trying to hold something back.
It pulls at me, that small, fragile movement.
The urge to close the distance between us, to kiss her, takes hold, stronger than I expect.
The tension in the room thickens, like something is waiting to snap, and I can barely hold myself back.
But I focus, forcing myself to stay still. My finger lingers just for a second longer, the heat of her skin against mine grounding me.
“You’re my wife,” I say, softer now. “It might’ve caught me off guard at first, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to try.”
She stares at me, doubt and stubbornness battling in her expression.
“Why?” she asks. “You don’t even like me. You pity me. That’s what he said.”
My jaw tightens. “Fuck what Carter said.”
She blinks. I keep going.
“The truth is, if anyone should feel sorry for someone here, it’s you for me. You’re strong, Mia. Resilient. You could do anything if it weren’t for the shitty men who held you back.”
She studies me, trying to figure out where I’m going with this.
"I'm the bastard who barely knows what the hell he's doing… well, except when it comes to you. I don’t know how to explain it—you just feel right,” I chuckle softly. “You’re beautiful. Probably the most beautiful, crazy girl I’ve ever met. And somehow, by some miracle, you like me.”
I pause, watching every little reaction on her face.
“So why the hell would I throw that away? I’m not that stupid.”
She narrows her eyes. “So you’re saying you only want to stay married to me because I’m beautiful?”
I smirk. “Basically.”
Mia rolls her eyes. “And you have the nerve to admit it.”
“Of course. That, and you’re kind of crazy.”
She sighs dramatically. “You’re lucky I like weird people.”
“Then we’re even.”
She shakes her head, but there’s a small smile at the corner of her lips. And that’s enough to keep me going.
“Maybe I can’t promise you some grand love story. Maybe I’m too broken for that.”
Mia blinks, surprised at my honesty.
I shrug. “But I have a waffle maker, an unlimited supply of Korean soap operas, enough glitter pens to last you a lifetime, and a halfway decent smile. Hopefully, that’s enough.”
I pick up the wedding ring she left behind and, without thinking too much about it, slide it back onto her finger.
She’s silent for a moment, staring at the ring. Then, she looks up at me.
And smiles.
“You had me at the waffle maker, idiot,” she says. Then, after a beat, “We need to go to that place where you can buy more waffles. We’re running out.”
“You mean the grocery store?”
“That’s the one!”
She laughs, leaning in to kiss my cheek before swiping the last waffle from my hand.
My chest feels lighter.
Only now do I realize how hard it was to breathe until I saw her smile again.
The plan was simple: go into the store, grab a few basics, and leave. Something efficient, quick, and hassle-free.
But then I realized I was shopping with Mia.
And Mia doesn't understand the concept of efficiency.
"Zane, look at this!" She rushes over to a shelf of cookies and holds up a package like she’s just unearthed buried treasure. "Have you tried these? I love them!"
"Then take it," I say, pushing the cart forward.
She beams and tosses the package inside without hesitation. And then she spots something else. And something else. And something else.
I follow behind, watching as our cart fills up with candy, chips, colorful juice boxes, and items I can't even identify.
I should intervene. I should put a limit on this.
But she’s so excited.
And I like seeing her like that.
When we reach the frozen foods section, Mia comes to an abrupt halt, her eyes widening with sheer delight.
"Waffles," she whispers, staring up at the top shelf. "The holy waffles."
I cross my arms, watching as she stretches onto her tiptoes, reaching for the box.
She fails.
She tries again, this time adding a little jump.
Fails again.
"You're going to break something," I comment, trying to keep my amusement in check.
"I'm not that fragile," she grumbles, attempting once more.
Rolling my eyes, I step forward, bend down, and lift her onto my shoulders without warning.
"Zane!" Mia squeaks in surprise, gripping onto me for balance.
"Now get the damn box," I mutter, ignoring the curious stares from an elderly couple at the other end of the aisle.
Mia bursts into laughter before triumphantly grabbing the box of waffles and holding it high like she’s won a trophy. "I did it!"
"Great. Now come down."
"Wait," she says, still perched on my shoulders. "Since I’m up here, I should check out some more stuff."
"No."
"Zane, look! There are frozen pancakes over there!"
"Mia."
"Ooh, I’ve never tried that ice cream."
"Mia, get down."
"Are those dinosaur nuggets?"
I let out a slow, heavy breath, my grip tightening around her waist as I lift her, just enough for her body to press against mine.
It’s supposed to be quick, effortless—but the second she’s against me, the mood shifts.
Her breath catches, a small, almost imperceptible sound, but I feel it. Her hands, which were braced against my shoulders, hesitate.
And then, with agonizing slowness, I lower her. Not because I have to, but because some twisted part of me wants to make her feel every second of it. Her body drags down against mine, her warmth sinking into my skin, and suddenly, the teasing, the reckless energy she always carries—it’s gone.
The humor in the room vanishes, swallowed by something heavier, something neither of us were expecting.
When her feet touch the ground, I don’t step back. My hands stay where they are, thumbs brushing the curve of her hips, and for once, she doesn’t have anything to say.
No quick remark.
No playful jab.
Just a pull—an undeniable, consuming force that neither of us can fight.
Her breath hitches, and that’s all it takes.
My mouth crashes against hers, desperate, greedy. She’s soft, impossibly soft, and the taste of her—warm, intoxicating—makes my head spin.
My fingers tighten, pulling her closer, needing more, needing all of her. She gasps into the kiss, and I swallow the sound, deepening it, letting the hunger take over.
Just wide eyes and parted lips when we pull away, and I realize—this is the first time I’ve ever seen her speechless.
She takes a step back, blinking up at me like she’s trying to remember how to breathe.
The teasing spark in her eyes? Completely gone. Instead, there’s something else—something quieter, heavier.
And maybe I should say something, crack a joke, shift the mood back to normal. But I don’t.
Because I like this.
I like knowing that I get under Mia’s skin just as much as she gets under mine.
“You—” Mia starts, then stops, shaking her head like she’s trying to reboot herself. She gestures vaguely at me. "You're so grumpy," she pouts, dropping the waffles into the cart.
"And you are impossible."
She shoots me an innocent smile, any trace of shyness long gone, before skipping down the aisle, grabbing random items like a chaotic little menace.
I should stop her. I really should.
But instead, I just push the cart and watch.
A few minutes later, she holds up a bag of giant marshmallows, her eyes shining. "Can we make hot chocolate and put these in?"
I shrug. "Take it."
Her smile widens as she tosses the bag into the cart.
Moments later, she reappears holding a jar of Nutella. "This goes great with waffles."
I roll my eyes. "Of course you’d get Nutella."
She gasps, appalled. "Do you have something against Nutella?"
"No."
"Good." She throws it into the cart and moves on.
With each new item, she glances at me, waiting for a reaction. But I don’t complain. I just observe.
After filling nearly half the store into the cart, Mia finally stops in the middle of the aisle, hands on her hips, surveying her collection like it’s a masterpiece.
"I think we have everything now," she declares proudly.
I arch an eyebrow, taking in the overflowing cart: candy, chips, juice boxes, waffles, Nutella, dinosaur nuggets, and somehow, an industrial-sized bag of gummy bears.
"Are you sure?" I ask, crossing my arms.
Mia tilts her head in thought, then suddenly claps her hands as if struck by divine inspiration. "Popcorn!"
Before I can react, she dashes off.
I let out a long-suffering sigh and follow, maneuvering the now-squeaky cart.
When I find her, she’s standing in front of the popcorn shelf, holding two different bags with an expression of pure existential crisis.
"Zane, which do you prefer? Extra butter or caramel?"
I look at her. Then at the bags. Then back at her.
"Mia… you’ve already picked up fifty things."
"That doesn't answer my question," she counters.
I drag a hand down my face, barely stifling a laugh. "Extra butter."
She grins, satisfied, and drops the bag into the cart. "Good choice, husband."
I freeze at the casual way she says husband, but she’s already distracted, scanning the shelves again.
Then, suddenly, she stops, eyes widening. "Wait. What if we want something sweet and salty at the same time?"
I stare at her. "Mia."
She looks between the bags, clearly weighing some complex internal debate.
"I need both."
Before I can protest, she tosses the caramel popcorn in, too.
I shake my head, accepting my fate.
"Are we done now?" I ask as she sneaks in another bag of candy.
"Now we’re done!" Mia claps her hands in triumph.
"Great. Let’s go before you buy the entire store."
We make our way to the checkout, and only when we start unloading our absurd collection onto the conveyor belt does Mia seem to realize the sheer volume of food she’s hoarded.
She glances at me sheepishly. "Okay, maybe I overdid it a little."
I give her a blank stare.
She bites her lip to keep from laughing. "But hey, at least we’re stocked up for emergencies, right?"
"You mean, in case of a zombie apocalypse where we survive solely on waffles and gummy bears?"
"Exactly!" She grins.
The sun is low as we finish loading the groceries into the car. Mia pulls out her phone, glancing down at the screen. I see Audrey's name, and I can already picture her typing with that over-the-top energy of hers. Mia taps out a reply, clearly amused by whatever Audrey’s just sent.
Mia laughs, shaking her head. "Well, Audrey says she can kick your ass if I need her to. You’re definitely on her radar now."
I roll my eyes. "Yeah, I’m shaking in my boots."
At least it’s not Seth Evans.
Mia’s phone buzzes, and I catch a glimpse of her smile as she reads the messages.
Her face softens, like she’s surprised but happy about whatever’s on the screen. I can hear the hint of warmth in her voice as she reads out loud, half to herself.
“Liv says: ‘I hope everything is okay. I got your number from Andi. Don’t disappear, okay? We want to see you again.’ And then Andi’s asking if everything’s okay with me.”
I stop unpacking the groceries and glance over at her. There’s a genuine softness in her expression, like the words are sinking in deeper than she’s used to.
She puts the phone down on the counter and meets my eyes, her smile still there, but more thoughtful now.
I focus on putting the groceries away, but a quiet sense of pride bubbles up in me.
I know Mia isn’t used to this kind of affection, to people checking in on her, caring for her like that. It’s something she’s not always comfortable with. But it’s good to see her socializing, getting the attention and care she deserves. She needs it, and I’m proud to see her starting to embrace it.
Mia pockets her phone and looks up at me, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You know, I’m really glad I made a new friend yesterday.”
I chuckle, trying to keep the tone light. “I wouldn’t exactly be grateful to be friends with Audrey, she’s a brat, but I’m happy for you,” I say, but the smirk on my face gives away how little I actually care for Audrey.
Mia raises an eyebrow, clearly curious. "How do you know she’s a brat?"
I shift my weight on the kitchen counter, leaning back a little. “She’s from my town. Her father used to be one of my father’s best friends. Her brother’s my brother’s best friend, and everything,” I explain, trying to downplay it. “Let’s just say... she’s got a reputation.”
Mia pauses, looking thoughtful as she taps her fingers on the countertop, clearly mulling over what I just said. After a moment, her playful grin resurfaces, and she looks up at me. “Maybe one day I can visit her in Austin.”
The words hit me like a sudden wave, cold and unexpected. My chest tightens, a knot forming in my stomach, and I do my best to ignore the way it stings. “Austin?” I echo, my voice a little lower than usual. I try not to let the unease show.
It’s a casual comment, nothing loaded in her tone, but it still hits me like a gut punch. My chest tightens, and for a second, all I can think about is my mom—her voice, her presence, the weight of going back there.
I haven’t stepped foot in that city in years for a reason. I have no intention of changing that.
“Yeah, why not?” she says, completely unaware of the storm brewing in my head. “I could go visit whenever I feel like it.”
I exhale slowly, pushing down the instinct to tell her it’s a bad idea. “Well, I guess I’m glad you found someone. You deserve a friend who gets you,” I say, and I mean it.
She laughs softly, leaning back against the seat, her grin widening. “I’m not saying Audrey’s my best friend or anything... but don’t worry, you don’t need to feel threatened. You’ll always be my best friend, hubby.”
I grin, playing along. “I can’t believe you just friend-zoned your husband.”
She laughs, her voice softening as she gives me a teasing look. “You’re, you know, my best friend.” She says it in a small voice, almost like she’s trying to reassure me.
And I can’t help but smile. “You are my best friend too, my sweet chaos,” I reply, starting the car.
Even as the engine hums to life, the thought of Austin lingers at the back of my mind, unwelcome and heavy. But I push it aside because right now, Mia is happy.
She’s socializing, opening up, living. And if that means a cart full of junk food and some chaos with Audrey, then so be it.