Page 18

I look out the windshield. Trees blur in the distance, and beyond that, the city skyline—the only place I’ve ever really known how to perform in.

I suppose disappearing for a while would shut everyone up. Harry. My father. Even Nova. I suddenly crave silence and privacy more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. Maybe the ghost town isn’t such a bad idea after all.

“You know what, Dad? You’re right.” I tell him all about Nova’s solution.

“That’s a great idea. Nova is brilliant.”

I stop a smile from forming. “She’s a pain.”

“Take the time off, let things go. Time has a way of fixing things. America loves you, and I’m certain that this will be over before you can blink.”

I blink, but the problem is still right there. With a smile on my face, I say goodbye to my dad and press the Bluetooth button. “Call Brody.”

The line clicks. A second later, Brody answers with too much pep for someone clearly complicit in this disaster. “Hey, boss?—”

“You knew about Nova’s insane plan, didn’t you?”

“No! I swear?—”

“Then how’d you know what I was talking about?”

Silence.

I smirk. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Send me everything you’ve got on Mia Davis.”

Brody exhales. “Right away.”

I hang up, lean my head back, and stare at the roof again.

Great.

I’m about to live in a Hallmark movie.

God help me.

By the time I pull into my driveway, the sun’s already starting to dip below the horizon. Shadows stretch long across the pavement, and for once, the silence around my home is kind of welcome.

I head inside, drop my keys on the console table, and collapse onto the couch. The second I do, my phone buzzes again. Brody.

New file received: Mia Davis.

I sigh and open it. Let’s see what kind of small-town fairy godmother Nova’s shoved me with.

The first thing that pops up is a picture of her shop. It’s colorful in a charming, annoyingly perfect way, with little flower carts outside and hand-painted signs that say things like “Fresh as First Love” and “Wild at Heart.” Eww.

I scroll further.

There’s a write-up about how she’s matched a few couples over the years. Something about one couple meeting over daffodils and ending up married after six months. Another pair met at a town fair because of Mia’s meddling. It’s all very sweet. Sickeningly so.

Then I hit the photo section.

One picture grabs my attention more than I care to admit—Mia, mid-laugh, hair in a messy braid, surrounded by sunflowers and little kids. Another has her dancing in the rain outside her shop, completely soaked but grinning like a maniac. And then one at what looks like a wedding, glass of champagne in hand, her face flushed and joyful.

None of the sharpness I saw earlier. None of the venom.

She’s… softer in these. Real.

Still stubborn, probably. Still impossible. But maybe not a total nightmare.