Chapter 4
Jake
I stand in front of the mirror, buttoning up the crisp white shirt that goes with my suit.
The fabric is smooth under my fingers, contrasting nicely with the rough callouses that have formed over years of manual labor and physical training.
It's been a long time since I've worn something this formal, and I can't help but feel out of place, as if the clothes themselves are a reminder of just how different Mia and I come from.
My mind drifts back to yesterday's morning, to the way she looked then, the way her eyes kept flicking towards me when she thought I wasn't looking.
There was a vulnerability there, hidden beneath layers of sarcasm and defiance, that I can't help but want to protect.
Even after everything that's happened between us—every moment we've shared and every line we've crossed—I still care about her more than anything.
I pause in my buttoning to run a hand through my hair, pushing it back from my forehead as I try to make sense of the chaos inside me.
This is supposed to be simple—a chance to keep an eye on Mia without raising too many eyebrows—but nothing with her ever is.
She's under my skin, burrowed deep in a place where I can't reach her or even understand why she affects me this way.
My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the hallway, and I look up just as Mia comes into view through the open door. Shouldn't have left it partially open, I think. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of her, and I have to bite back a low whistle of appreciation.
She's wearing a dress—the kind that hugs all those curves I've been trying not to notice, the ones that make me think of sinful things and late-night fantasies.
The fabric is some shade of blue that reminds me of the ocean on a clear summer day, and it shimmers subtly with every movement she makes.
It's really something else. I didn't know she had it.
But it's not just the dress—it's her. It's the way her hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders, the way her eyes meet mine for just a second before darting away shyly. She looks like a dream come true, something I never thought I'd be lucky enough to touch, let alone claim as my own.
I watch her in the reflection in my mirror, my heart pounding like a teenager's as she fusses with her dress and checks her reflection.
She doesn't see me yet, too focused on whatever she's doing to notice anything else.
And for just this moment, I can pretend that nothing is wrong between us, that we're not playing this dangerous game where the stakes couldn't be higher.
But then she looks in my direction, and our eyes meet in the mirror. For a second, there's something like fear in her gaze, but it's replaced almost immediately by defiance. She squares her shoulders and turns to face me directly, all traces of uncertainty gone as if they were never there at all.
"Nice suit," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. There's an edge to it though, something sharp that tells me she doesn't want to be having this conversation any more than I do.
I raise an eyebrow in response, playing along with her game even though every fiber of my being wants to close the distance between us and pull her into my arms. "Thanks," I say finally, turning to face her fully. "You don't look so bad yourself."
Her cheeks flush at that, a rosy hue spreading across them that makes me want to lean in closer just to see if they feel as warm as they look. Instead, I force myself to stay where I am, my hands clenching into fists at my sides.
The drive to the wedding venue is quiet, filled only with the hum of the engine and the occasional sound of a car passing by on the highway.
Mia sits in the passenger seat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as she stares out the window at the world rushing past us.
I can feel the tension radiating off her in waves, and it takes all my self-control not to reach over and pry her fingers apart, offer some sort of comfort that I'm not sure either of us is ready for.
As we pull up to the grand old manor where the wedding is taking place, Mia's breath hitches beside me. "I can't believe we're actually doing this," she mutters, more to herself than to me. But I hear her, and it makes my chest ache in a way that I can't quite understand.
We make our way inside, weaving through the crowded ballroom filled with people dressed in their finest. Mia scans the room nervously, looking for familiar faces among the sea of strangers.
More specifically, she's looking for her friend.
I stick close by her side, not because she asked me to but because it's where I want to be, where I need to be.
As we grab two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and make our way towards an empty table near the back, I can't help but steal glances at Mia.
She looks good enough to eat. But more than that, she looks nervous, and it makes me want to wrap my arms around her and promise that everything will be okay.
We find our table, and Mia slips into a seat, crossing one leg over the other as she takes a sip of her drink.
Her eyes are darting nervously around the room, taking in every detail like she's trying to commit it all to memory.
I can't help but wonder what she's thinking about, what memories this place is dredging up for her.
Later, we make small talk with the other guests at our table—people Mia knows from college, though none of them seem particularly interested in making conversation with me.
And why would they? I'm just the random guy who showed up with their friend, no explanation given.
But it doesn't matter. The only person here who matters is sitting right across from me, and she hasn't said more than a handful of words to anyone else all night. It's surprising, really.
Mia excuses herself to use the restroom, leaving her half-finished glass of champagne on the table beside her empty plate.
I watch her go, my eyes tracing the curve of her back as she moves through the crowd.
It's only when she disappears from view that I realize I've been holding my breath since she stood up.
She always has that effect on me, and I can't change it. Can't hope to ever change it, either.
While I'm still sitting there and waiting for her to return, a man approaches our table.
He's tall, with slicked-back hair and an obnoxiously loud laugh that grates on my nerves even before he opens his mouth.
I don't know who he is, but I already dislike him.
If he spends too much time around me, I'll start to hate him, too.
"Hey, you're here with Mia Chen, right?" he asks, extending a hand towards me as if we're old friends.
I stand up to shake it, though I have no intention of actually doing so. "Yeah," I say instead, crossing my arms over my chest and looking down at him coolly. "You know her?"
The man's smile falters slightly under my scrutiny, but he quickly recovers, turning on the charm like a light switch flipping on. "Oh yeah," he says, his eyes gleaming with something that makes my hackles rise. "We went to college together. She was... quite memorable."
I can feel the anger building inside me like a storm about to break, but before I can say anything, Mia returns to our table. Her eyes widen when she sees us standing there, and I can practically see the gears turning in her head as she tries to figure out what's going on.
"Hey," she says cautiously, looking between the two of us. "Everything okay?"
The man turns his attention to her then, a predatory gleam in his eyes that makes me want to punch him square in the face. But I don't, because Mia deserves better than that, and because I can tell from the way she's stiffening beside me that this isn't some random stranger; it must be her ex.
I don't know what his intentions really are, but I'm not going to give anyone a reason to kick me out of the wedding.
"Mia," he says, his voice smooth as he takes a step closer to her. "It's been too long."
She doesn't respond right away, but I can see the tension in her shoulders as she forces herself to meet his gaze.
And then, before either of them can say anything else, another woman appears at the man's side, his arm around her waist, pulling her close like a possession.
That might not be too far from the truth.
"Oh," Mia says softly. "You brought your girlfriend."
The man has the decency to look slightly embarrassed by that, but it doesn't last long.
He just smirks and pulls the woman even closer, pressing a kiss to her temple like he's trying to prove something.
"Yep," he says finally, his voice filled with an arrogant confidence that makes me want to wipe the smile off his face. "We're engaged now."
Mia thought only her friend would have to deal with an ex flaunting their new partner, but now it's happening to her too and she can barely hide how she feels.
I can see the shock in Mia's eyes, the way she's struggling to maintain her composure despite the pain I know she must be feeling. But she doesn't let it show—not on the surface, at least—and I admire her for that more than anything.
"Congratulations," she says, her voice steady as she forces a smile onto her face. "That's... that's really great."
The man just smiles back at her, like he thinks he's won something.
And maybe he has, but not the way he thinks.
Because even though Mia might be hurt by this, even though there's a part of her that still cares about this man despite everything, she's already moved on, and she'll find someone better—a man who deserves her and knows how lucky he is to have her.