Page 14

“His dating history says otherwise. So do half the tabloid covers at the airport.”

Nova sighs, walking around her desk. “Look, I know how it sounds. But this is serious. Jack’s image is tanking. He’s being dropped from projects left and right, and the only reason he still has a lead role in the film he’s working on is because the director won’t let go of him. The studio’s on edge.”

“And this is my problem… why?”

“Because people believe in you, Mia. You’re real. You’re grounded. You made something magical happen with your sister and Prince Graham, and people still talk about it.”

“That was a fluke,” I say. “And I don’t want to be some celebrity’s reputation bandage.”

“We’re not asking you to date him. Just… help him find someone. Quietly. Discreetly.”

“I don’t even believe someone like him wants a real relationship.”

“He may not have before. But he doesn’t really have a choice now.”

I shake my head. “Still not my problem.”

Nova sighs and leans against the desk. “Please.” I can tell it’s so hard for her to even say the word. She really wants this; it’s obvious.

“Jack really,reallyneeds this. Deep down, he knows it.”

“Uh, are you sure about that? Didn’t seem that way to me. If you ask me, I’ll say he’s trying hard for thisnotto work. This isn’t just some simple matchmaking stunt; it’s my reputation on the line. You see, my successful matches are because I saw interest in the men, no matter how small. It was there.”

Nova nods solemnly. “I understand.”

“If I match some lady with Jack and he breaks her heart, it’ll be on me.”

“I know. But I guarantee you that won’t happen,” she says confidently. “You have my word. We’ll pay you, of course. Handsomely.”

“I don’t want your money.”

“What about the expansion of your flower shop?”

My breath catches. “What?”

“Your flower shop is the most successful business in Bardstown. You’re looking to expand and cover more grounds, but you can’t do it on your own. We’ve seen the grant proposals. We’ll fund it in full.”

I stare at her.

And then she says the thing that makes my stomach twist.

“We’ll also make a sizable donation to ‘Kids Living with Leukemia.’”

Silence. Heavy. Crushing.

“How do you know about that?” I whisper.

“We did our research. We know you’ve fundraised for them for years.”

I swallow hard. My chest aches in that familiar place. The one that remembers IVs and beeping monitors. The one that remembers my mom’s tears in the hallway. The one that remembers how close we came to giving up.

“We’ll fund the next two years of operations,” Nova adds. “No strings attached. All you have to do is try. Even if it doesn’t work.”

I stare at the polished floor and think about the kids in my organization, the parents who are one bill away from losing everything, and the nights I cried myself to sleep, too tired to speak, too sick to care.

Maybe this isn’t about Jack Calloway at all.

Maybe it’s about using something broken to fix something else.