Chapter 26 Mila
Chapter 26
Mila
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I say for what feels like the thirteenth time since we entered the terminal. Unaccosted, I might add, because rich people don’t have to clear immigration. Or collect their own baggage. And neither does a rich person’s spouse. Winning?
“I mean, sure, it’s up to you,” Fin says, his hand tightening on mine. For the sake of appearances, I allow it. “But I’m not sure how you expect people to believe we’re in a real marriage if we’re not living in the same house.”
“One of the Kardashians doesn’t live with her husband.”
“I don’t know who that is. But I’m guessing they aren’t trying to fool half of London.”
“And I’m pretty sure I read Gwyneth Paltrow and her husband don’t live together full time,” I say in lieu of an answer.
“As newlyweds? Wouldn’t that kind of arrangement go against everything your business stands for? Love, togetherness, forever?”
“ Forever means no repeat customers,” I repeat disingenuously. “Look, I’ll think about it,” I add as I begin to dig in my purse for my phone, eventually pulling it out from the depths.
“What are you doing?”
“Booking an Uber,” I say, pointing the screen his way as though the answer is obvious.
Fin expels an exasperated huff. “My driver will be outside. He can drop you off wherever.”
“No need,” I answer quickly, pulling the sides of my cardigan closer. I already feel so out of place in my leggings, T-shirt, and Converse. “It’s fine. An Uber is fine.” And much more my style. Some might even say an upgrade, I think as I flick through the app, mostly to avoid his gaze. There’s no way he or his driver is taking me home. Not to Baba’s flat. Even if I could convince him to stay in the car and not walk me to the door, which I know I won’t manage, the experience would still be mortifying. The whole place is a dump.
“You’re not getting an Uber home,” he says, leaning into that bossy thing. The zaddy thing. Or maybe the daddy thing. Whatever. It’s like he’s guessed what it does to me. Which is simultaneously turn me on and piss me off.
“Married or not, this isn’t the 1950s. If I want to get an Uber, you’re not going to stop me.” Even if it is going to cost me an arm and a leg to get home.
“A little louder, love,” Fin says, leaning in. “Then maybe the porter can sell the highlights of this conversation to the City Chronicle .”
“ Fine. ” I almost bite my lip as I spit the word out. “We’ll discuss this outside.” Is this what my life is about to become?
“Or maybe not.”
I angle my gaze his way as he lets go of my hand in favor of pulling me into his side. I follow his gaze to the glass doors and the small crowd of people outside. My first thought is it might be a family waiting for the arrival of their loved one. But then a flash goes off. Then another. And another.
“Fuck,” he grates out, swinging us both around to face the other way.
“Are those ...” I glance over my shoulder. Then my stomach hits the tiled floor. “Please don’t tell me you have photographers following you all the time.”
“Not as a matter of course.” He nods at the porter, handing him a folded bill almost by sleight of hand. “What are you doing?” he asks, as I move to take the baggage cart.
“What does it look like?”
“You can’t use that as a battering ram. Not in today’s litigious society.”
“Says who?”
I pivot in the direction of the loud Irish voice before its owner backslaps Fin.
“Mila, right? I hear congratulations are in order.” The man turns suddenly, enveloping me in a short but expensive-smelling hug. His cologne is expensive smelling, at least. And his shirt feels pretty nice against my cheek. As he pulls back, amused green eyes stare down at me.
“Yes, th-thank you,” I answer, my gaze darting between the pair.
“I’m Matt,” he offers. “The better third of the Maven unholy trio.”
“My ass.” Fin scoffs.
“Did you lose your mind when you lost your hair?”
“Real funny.” With the reminder, Fin slides his hand up the back of his head.
“What happened to it, anyway? Lose a bet?” He glances my way.
“It’s a long story,” I offer, and the man grins.
“Knock that off,” Fin complains.
“Maybe it’s commiserations I should be offering, if she’s married you.” Matt winks, and I decide I like him. “Car’s waiting.”
“Bob?” Fin asks, taking my hand.
“Oliver, in his infinite wisdom, gave your driver the day off. He’s arranged transport himself.”
“A welcoming party?”
“A welcoming party,” Matt confirms. “Are you ready for the circus?” he says, turning to me again.
“That depends. Do I get to be the lion or the clown?”
Flanked by both men, I make for the glass doors.
“ Was it planned, Fin? ”
“No comment,” Fin says to the journalists who accost us as we exit the small terminal.
I blink as a camera flash goes off in my face, and I hold up my hand, dots dancing in my line of vision. I’m sure my feet would slow if it weren’t for Fin’s hold on me as he tows me along.
Now I know why celebs keep their sunglasses on.
“ Did you tell Charlotte? ”
“ Has she given her blessing? ”
“ Is she gonna sue you for breach of promise? ”
“ Did you take back the ring? ”
“The ring?” I repeat, glancing up at him.
“Not here,” he sort of singsongs. “Not now.”
He pulls me tighter into the shelter of his arm, Matt flanking my right. I mean, it’s not like the paparazzi are out to get us—there are only four of them. I’ve felt more threatened walking home from the Tube station on occasion. But then an honest-to-goodness limo screeches to a halt in front of me, and Fin yanks at the passenger door handle.
“A limo? Really?” he says as Evie’s happy expression suddenly emerges from the darkened interior.
“Of course a limo!” she trills, unrepentant. “Quick!” She makes a circling motion with her hand. “Get in.”
Fin presses his hand to my back, and for once, I feel not that subtle thrill of his touch but a solid shove. I burst into the interior and almost tumble into the lap of Oliver, who eyes me like a rotten kipper someone just hurled at him.
“Allow me,” he murmurs, pulling me deeper into the bowels of the vehicle before settling me on the leather seat next to him.
The limo door clunks closed behind me, the interior lights brightening to illuminate Evie’s expectant expression and Oliver’s mildly bored one. I glance at the door I was just shoved through, my stomach flipping at the opaque shape of Fin as he’s bombarded with questions.
“ Is she pregnant, Fin? ”
What? I pull my purse onto my knee, not quite sure if I should be offended or if Charlotte from Made in Rich mond should. Maybe she is pregnant, but that doesn’t mean it’s anything to do with Fin.
“Don’t listen to them,” Evie says softly, as though intuiting my thoughts.
“I wasn’t,” I say far too quickly, then I swallow over the lump in my throat. I think that might be my heart trying to escape, which isn’t helped as Oliver moves to the side-facing seats, placing himself next to his wife.
Maybe I smell like a kipper too. I resist the urge to stick my nose into my armpit to check.
Evie grins quite suddenly. “You know, the last time a woman burst into Oliver’s car, he ended up with a wife.”
As he reaches for her hand, she holds the other upright, the diamonds in her wedding band sparkling like stars.
“One wife is enough for one lifetime,” he murmurs.
“Congratulations,” I offer as I slide my left hand under my purse and use my thumb to pull my sweater over my knuckles, hiding my own slim wedding band. It’s a good thing I hadn’t thought to take it off. But why hadn’t I? “I’m so happy to hear it went well for you both.”
“Thank you. And thank you for your help,” Evie adds. “I want you to know how grateful we are. We couldn’t have managed any of it without you.”
“The money should already be in your bank,” Oliver adds, not realizing his wife is looking at him like he’s grown another head. Or maybe horns.
“Sometimes you make me truly wonder,” she murmurs almost to herself.
“What? I was merely advising Mila that I’d held up my part of the bargain.”
“ Part of your part of the bargain,” I can’t help but add. No need to be coy just because I’ve married into the friendship group, sort of.
“Yes, well.” His brows pull in as he studies me. “That might take a little creative accounting.”
“I’m sorry?”
“It will be hard to convince people that we were married on the DeWitt estate when the images on the internet are of you and Fin getting married there.”
My heart hits my boots. Or my Converse, rather. “Yes, I see your point. I suppose it will.”
“We’ll work something out,” Evie says. “But for now, remember that Mila just married your best friend.”
Oliver frowns, his hand scratching his chin in consideration. “You’re right. She deserves a bonus.”
“That is not what I’m saying, Oliver. Jeez, pull your head out of your ass!”
“Honestly, it’s fine,” I put in. I’m too tense to enjoy their domestic disagreement. Though it does occur to me that maybe they don’t have it all figured out. But they do have love, I see, as Evie’s expression turns indulgent when her husband presses a kiss to the center of her palm.
“I’m dying to find out how it happened,” she says, her attention swinging my way. “Fin is so—”
Both passenger doors are suddenly flung open. To my right, Matt climbs in at the same time as does Fin from the other side.
“What a feckin’ circus,” Matt mutters, dropping into one of the seats opposite Evie and Oliver.
“I had no idea it’d be like this,” Fin says, reaching for my sweater-covered hand. Then frowning at it.
“You’re sure your life isn’t like this all the time?”
His brows lift, his answer amused. “This isn’t about me.”
“Well, it’s not about me,” I retort unhappily.
“It’s about both of you,” Evie puts in. “Congratulations! I’m so happy for you both, I could burst!”
I say nothing. But I’m probably doing a solid impression of a koi carp as my gaze bounces between the pair, not sure who to look at. I thought I could do this—lie to them. But Evie looks so genuinely happy, I suddenly don’t think I can.
“I should’ve known there was something behind you recommending Mila for the job,” her effusiveness continues. “Not that I wasn’t impressed with your portfolio,” she adds.
Her words are like a needle scratch on one of Baba’s old vinyl Edith Piaf LPs.
“You did what?” My head whips around. “I got the job because of you?”
“I only gave Evie your card.”
“I didn’t give you my card,” I retort.
I know this is neither the time nor the place, but my heart is banging against my rips like a two-year-old with a mallet and a xylophone.
“No, the concierge at the hotel did. I found it in my jacket pocket not long after Evie mentioned their wedding plans. I just passed it on, that’s all. The night we met, I was so impressed—”
Now my heart gives a discordant twang, and my jaw drops open as though it’s unhinged. He is not about to mention that night in front of his friends.
“—by the job you’d done, I suggested to Evie that she check you out. Right?” He turns to Evie, who confirms with a vigorous nod.
“There was nothing more to it than that,” she insists. “I added your card to my list of possible planners. Then we met and gelled, and the rest is history.”
Do I believe her? Or do I think these two conspired to get me to Indonesia? And if they did, how the hell did I end up married? That can’t have been part of their plan.
“Fin is invited to more weddings than most,” Evie puts in, eyes wide and innocent looking. “I’m sure I already said.” The color in her cheeks deepens, no doubt remembering what else she’d said.
“Most people decline and send a gift,” Oliver adds dryly.
“No, that’s just you,” Evie says, patting her husband’s hand. “Kismet brought you both together. I just helped her along.”
“Did kismet bring you and Charlotte together?” I could bite off my tongue. My head swims with thoughts. How I got here. How I got Evie’s wedding. And underneath it all, there’s that inexplicable swirling of jealousy.
Fin’s brow flickers, but I’m already turning away, embarrassed.
“We’re married,” I begin, without looking at any of them. “But we’re not in love.” Beside me, I feel Fin stiffen. “The whole thing was an accident—a freak accident. Sarai, she—” I halt, not sure why I’d defend her, given her role in this. “There were shrooms,” I add, my words halting and disjointed as I stare at my own palms, as though the rest of my explanation might be written there. “It was a mistake, and we can’t get out of it without a divorce.”
“Oh. I thought Matt said ...” Evie’s words trail off.
“The media stuff was a shock.” I glance up, pasting on what remains of my professional smile. “And what has happened has the potential to ruin my business, so Fin has kindly offered to stay married to me for a little while. Which I think might help. Help me get back on my feet, at least.”
“That’s about the strength of it,” Fin ends, always ready with a quip.
I even allow him to take my hand between his, because the sudden silence in this vehicle is deafening.