Thirteen
Confessions to Takeaway
MIA
I SIT CROSS-LEGGED on the floor, surrounded by a mountain of Indian takeaway containers. The scent of butter chicken, garlic naan, and spiced samosas fills the air. But I’m too on edge to enjoy it properly.
Charlotte, my whirlwind of a cousin, is perched on the sofa behind me, her legs draped over the armrest like she owns the place.
“So,” she says, dragging the word out like she’s warming up for a full-on interrogation. “Tell me everything about Mr. Tall, Dark, and Ridiculously Hot. My mum said that he’s fit enough to make a nun rethink her vows.”
I freeze mid-bite, my fork hovering halfway to my mouth. My Auntie likes to think she’s still in her twenties. “Oh, Austin?” I ask, feigning indifference. “He’s . . . fine.”
Charlotte sits up, narrowing her eyes at me. “Fine? That’s all you’ve got? Mia, don’t insult me. I can smell the sexual tension in your texts from across the Scottish border. Spill.”
“There’s nothing to spill,” I say quickly, shoving a forkful of rice into my mouth to avoid elaborating.
“Bollocks.” Charlotte says, crossing her arms and giving me her best don’t-even-think-about-lying-to-me-glare. “You’re acting dodgier than a takeaway curry from a petrol station. Out with it.”
I sigh, knowing she’s not going to drop it. Charlotte’s like a dog with a bone when she wants information.
I take a long sip of my martini, trying to buy myself a few more seconds, but her stare is burning holes into me.
“Fine,” I say, setting my drink down. “But you have to promise not to judge.”
Charlotte grins wickedly. “Judging you is my love language. Now talk.”
I roll my eyes but can’t help smiling. “Ok. It’s fake. Austin and I, the whole ‘relationship’—it’s not real.”
Charlotte chokes on her chicken tikka masala, her eyes bulging. “Fake? You mean to tell me that Greek god of a man is pretending to date you? Why on earth would anyone do that?”
“Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence,” I say dryly.
“Oh, you know you’re stunning, don’t play coy,” she says, waving her fork around. “But seriously, why?”
I groan and lean back against the sofa, clutching a cushion to my chest. “It’s a long story. I kind of let it slip to Amber.”
“Wait, that bitch Amber McVey from school?”
I nod. “She lives downstairs.”
“Oh, now I totally understand why you did it.”
“Exactly! Austin just . . . agreed to go along with it.”
Charlotte pops her fork in her mouth and chews on a bit of chicken as if she is thinking about what to say next. “So, you’re telling me you’ve been playing house with this man, and nothing’s happened? Like, nothing nothing?”
My cheeks flush. “Well . . .”
“Oh my God!” Charlotte shrieks, sitting upright so fast she nearly knocks over her curry. “You shagged him, didn’t you?”
“Charlotte!” I hiss, chucking a piece of naan at her. “Keep your voice down! My neighbours will think I’m running a brothel in here.”
She dissolves into laughter, clutching her stomach. “I knew it! I knew there was more to this story. So? How was it? Was he good?”
“Unbelievable,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
Charlotte gasps dramatically, clutching her chest like she’s just been given the gossip of the century. “Mia Jameson, you absolute minx. I’m so proud. But why are you sitting here moping instead of frolicking off into the sunset with him?”
“Because it’s complicated!” I groan, burying my face in the cushion. “It’s fake, Charlotte. None of this is real. But . . . I’m just . . . I don’t know. Confused.”
Charlotte quiets, which is rare enough to make me look up. Her expression softens, and she reaches out to squeeze my hand.
“Mia,” she says gently, “do you love him?”
My chest tightens. The words stick in my throat. “I don’t know,” I whisper.
“Well, you’d better figure it out,” she says, her tone suddenly sharp again. “Because men like Austin don’t come around every day. What happens when this arrangement ends? How is it going to end, anyway?”
I shrug.
“Because if you let him walk away without telling him how you feel, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”
I stare at her, her words ringing in my ears. She’s right. I hate that she’s right, but she is.
Charlotte grins, her energy back in full force. “Now eat your curry. You’ll need the energy if you’re planning to sort this shit out.”
I manage a small smile, picking up my fork. I don’t know how to fix things with Austin, but one thing’s clear—I can’t keep running from the truth.
Charlotte smirks, leaning back against the sofa and popping a samosa into her mouth like she’s just dropped a casual bomb. “Besides, I’m looking forward to meeting Austin at Danny’s birthday party.”
My stomach drops like a lead balloon. I blink at her, my fork halfway to my mouth. “Wait. What?”
She raises an eyebrow. “Danny’s birthday party. You know, your brother’s big 4-0? Don’t tell me you forgot.”
“Oh, great,” I mutter, dragging a hand down my face. “I forgot about my brother’s bloody fortieth birthday meal.”
Charlotte cackles, delighted at my misery. “Classic Mia. You forget about your own brother’s party, but not the fake boyfriend you’re supposed to parade around at said event.”
My head spins, and I drop my fork onto the pile of takeaway containers. “I don’t think I even invited Austin,” I blurt, panic rising like a tide.
Charlotte’s grin widens, pure mischief lighting up her face. “Well, you’ve got about forty-eight hours to figure that out, don’t you? Because if you show up without him, everyone will know something’s up. Your mum has been singing his praises.”
“Thanks for the pep talk, Charlotte,” I deadpan, shoving a piece of naan into my mouth to keep from screaming.
She laughs, clearly enjoying my meltdown. “Don’t mention it, cuz. But seriously, Mia, you need to get your shit together. If Austin’s really as perfect as you say—and you did just confirm that in bed he’s a bloody Greek god—then you’re a bloody idiot if you let him slip through your fingers.”
I glare at her, swallowing the naan with difficulty. “What would you know about it? Your longest relationship has been with your hair extensions.”
“True,” she says with a shrug, not the least bit offended. “But at least I know how to keep my priorities straight. Men like Austin don’t grow on trees. And if you think showing up at Danny’s party alone isn’t going to raise every eyebrow in the family, you’re more delusional than I thought.”
“Fantastic,” I mutter, staring at the mess of takeaway containers. My appetite has officially left the building.
Charlotte leans in, her voice softening. “Look, Mia. I get it. You’re scared. You don’t want to get hurt again. But Austin isn’t Liam, and you know it. You’ve got something real here, even if it started fake. Don’t be an idiot.”
Her words hit me harder than I want to admit. I sigh, leaning back against the sofa and closing my eyes. “I’ll think about it.”
“You’d better,” she says, pointing her fork at me like it’s a weapon. “And while you’re at it, text him about the party. You don’t have much time.”
I groan, grabbing my phone reluctantly. “You’re the worst cousin ever, you know that?”
“I know,” she says with a smug grin. “And you love me for it.”
I shake my head, but I can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. Only Charlotte could simultaneously ruin my night and make me laugh about it.