Chapter 15
Mia
Sarah storms in, face red and eyes blazing, Cokie right on her heels. Both of them freeze in the doorway, staring at the disaster around us—the ruined cakes, the trampled pastries, the streaks of chocolate and frosting all over the counters and the floor.
Cokie gasps, clutching her clipboard. “What the hell happened here?”
Tyler steps back a few paces, trying to look like he wasn’t just elbow-deep in chocolate a moment ago. I’m left standing there, sticky, flushed, and exposed.
Sarah’s voice is sharp as a slap. “Are you kidding me, Mia? This is your idea of helping?”
I open my mouth, scrambling for an explanation. “Sarah, I—”
But she cuts me off, her eyes blazing. “You ruined everything! Was this about Jason? Or about me? Are you jealous, or just desperate to sabotage my wedding because you can’t stand to see someone else happy?”
Her words hit harder than I expect. I swallow, cheeks burning, suddenly aware of how childish and guilty I must look.
I feel the blood drain from my face. “I’m sorry, Sarah. Really, I am. I—I’ll pay for the damages, whatever it takes.”
She just shakes her head, tears welling up in her eyes. Cokie’s already shouting into her headset, calling for more staff, damage control, anything.
I look down at my ruined dress, the kitchen a war zone. All I wanted was to stop Jason, to help. Now, I’ve just made everything worse.
Sarah’s voice wobbles with hurt and fury. “You’ve really outdone yourself, Mia.” She shakes her head, voice thick. “I can’t believe you. I really thought you were here for me.”
I try to step closer, but she takes a step back. “Sarah, please—I swear, I wasn’t trying to ruin—”
Before I can finish, the chef bursts in, stopping dead at the threshold. His eyes sweep the mess—cake on the tiles, shattered desserts, frosting smeared over everything.
He throws up his hands, nearly shouting. “No, no, no! This is all for the wedding! Do you know how long it takes to make these? I can’t get more ingredients until Tuesday—this was all we had!”
Sarah’s breathing gets shakier, her anger crumbling into shock and real pain. “You heard him, Mia. There’s no fixing this.”
Guilt twists in my chest. “I’m sorry. I’ll pay, I’ll fix it, I’ll—”
The chef just shakes his head, surveying the disaster. “Money isn’t going to put dessert on the table tonight.”
Cokie is barking into her headset, the kitchen is a blur of ruined food, and Sarah’s looking at me like she’s seeing a stranger.
I want to disappear. Sarah’s shaking, the chef looks like he might cry, and everyone is staring at me like I’m the villain.
The mess on the floor feels bigger and heavier by the second.
Then Tyler steps forward, wiping the last of the pastry cream off his face. He’s calm, clear, almost commanding.
“Chef,” he says, “make a list of everything we need. All of it. We’ll have prepared food airlifted in if we have to. I’ll pay whatever it costs.”
The chef hesitates, still staring at the wreckage. “You don’t understand. It’s not just money—it’s time, it’s the effort—”
Tyler cuts him off gently. “I do understand. But you’ll have help. Just make the list and I’ll handle the rest.”
There’s a ripple of relief—very slight—in the room. The chef looks frustrated but nods, muttering about how it’s never enough and how nothing tastes as good when it’s rushed.
Sarah storms out of the kitchen, her face pale, shoulders hunched. Cokie calls after her, but she doesn’t even look back.
I drop Tyler’s hand and rush after her, heart pounding. “Sarah, wait! Please—”
She spins around in the hallway, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Don’t, Mia. I can’t do this with you right now. You’re not my maid of honor anymore.”
The words hit me like a punch. “You don’t mean that.”
But her face hardens. Before she can answer, Jason appears, stepping into the hallway with a smug little smile. “Yes, she means every word of that,” he says smoothly.
Sarah blinks in surprise. “Jason? What are you doing here?”
He moves to her side instantly, slipping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “Looking for you, my love,” he says. “I heard there was a disaster. Are you alright?”
Sarah’s shoulders shake. She buries her face in his chest and sobs. He wraps her up, stroking her hair. “Shh, my darling. It’s alright. I’m here now.”
I step forward, wanting to explain, to apologize, to say anything—but Jason holds up a hand, cutting me off. “That’s enough, Mia,” he says coldly. “You’ve done enough.”
He turns Sarah away from me and leads her down the hall, his arm tight around her, Sarah crying softly into his shoulder.
I stand frozen in the corridor, trying to catch my breath. Everything’s gone wrong, and I don’t even know how to start fixing it.
Tyler finds me before I can fall apart. He steps up, gently takes my arm, and pulls me aside. “Hey,” he says quietly, “don’t listen to them. You tried to help. You didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
I nod, but my eyes sting. “She hates me, Ty.”
He shakes his head, tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “She’s hurt, but she doesn’t hate you. Not really. Jason’s the problem, not you.”
As if on cue, Jason strides back down the hall. The fake charm is gone, replaced by something I haven’t seen before—something hard and angry.
He scowls at me, and then at Tyler. “Put one more foot out of line, and you’ll regret it.”
Tyler steps forward, not breaking eye contact. “Or what?”
Jason’s lips twitch, almost a sneer. “Just take the advice. Don’t push me.”
He turns on his heel and disappears down the corridor, leaving a chill in the air. I grip Tyler’s arm, heart pounding. Now I know for sure: Jason’s mask is off. And things are only going to get uglier from here.
I sigh, shoulders slumping as Tyler leads me back toward the main hall. Sarah’s never going to trust me again, I think, the ache in my chest sharper than ever. I can’t blame her. Everything feels ruined.
Tyler gives my hand a gentle squeeze, then peels off to check with Cokie about the rehearsal dinner menu. I linger by the door, still feeling every pair of eyes in the lodge on me.
I hear the chef’s familiar, dramatic voice as Tyler asks, “So, can you pull off dinner tonight?”
The chef crosses his arms, rolling his eyes. “We’ll manage, since you didn’t mash the prime rib in each other’s faces. Next time, try the salmon—it’s easier to clean off the walls.”
Tyler smirks. “We’ll save that for dinner.”
Cokie groans, pinching the bridge of her nose, but she’s already making new notes on her clipboard, somehow unfazed.
Tyler rejoins me and gently steers me through the crowd, up the stairs toward my room. I don’t say much—I just let him lead, head spinning, replaying everything that’s happened in the last hour.
But when we round the corner, my heart skips. Marcus and Alexander are standing outside my door, both with their arms crossed, faces serious.
Marcus speaks first. “We need to talk.”
Alexander nods, his jaw set. “Now, Mia. All of us.”
I look at Tyler, then back at the two men waiting for me.
Something heavy settles in my stomach.
It’s time to face the truth. No more running, no more pretending.