Page 25 of Most Likely to Deny Love (Yearbook #2)
MIA
T he clink of silverware against my mom’s best china echoed in the pristine dining room, each sound amplified in the stifling silence. I pushed a roasted potato around my plate, feeling my mom’s eyes on me as surely as if she’d reached across the table and pinched my arm.
The six of us were arranged around my mother’s prized mahogany table like a stilted family portrait: Mom at one end and Ted at the other, with Megan and Charles sitting across from Jack and me.
“So Jack, Mia tells us you’re from Colorado originally?” Mom’s voice had that artificial brightness that made my stomach clench.
Jack nodded. “Yes, that’s right. I grew up there.”
“So your family are still there?”
“Yes.”
“How lovely.” Mom’s mouth twisted into a fake smile. “Do you visit them often?”
I felt Jack tense up as he answered. “Not as often as I should.”
“And what exactly do your parents do?” The question came from Charles.
“My father runs a private equity firm. My mother is on the board of several charitable organizations.”
Mom’s eyebrows shot up at this. “How fascinating,” she purred, suddenly much more engaged. “And you chose corporate rescue work instead of following your father into finance?”
“I did,” Jack’s tone gave nothing away, but there was no mistaking the tension rolling off him.
“Jack prefers building things up rather than tearing them down,” I interjected, feeling the need to rescue him, even though I wasn’t sure what from. “He’s incredible at what he does.”
“I’m sure he is, sweetie,” Mom said with a condescending smile that made my skin crawl. “It’s just unusual for someone from that background to choose a different path.”
Jack’s hand found mine under the table, his warm fingers wrapping around mine in a gentle squeeze. I squeezed right back.
“Mia tells me you’re quite the wine connoisseur. What do you think of the Cabernet we’re serving? It’s nothing special, I’m afraid, but Ted picked it up last minute.”
“It’s lovely,” Jack lied smoothly, though the wine was barely a step above vinegar.
“You’ll have to bring something from your collection next time,” she continued, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “I’d love to sample what someone with your... background... considers a good vintage.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. My mom had spent the entire evening trying to establish Jack’s net worth without directly asking to see his bank account. Her behavior was mortifying, but Jack handled each probe with perfect grace.
“I’d be happy to,” he replied, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of my hand, hidden from view beneath the tablecloth.
The rest of dinner passed in pretty much the same way. It was fucking excruciating. Until, finally, the plates were cleared and Mom said, “Mia, would you help me bring out dessert?” Mom stood abruptly, her tone making it clear this wasn’t actually a request.
I reluctantly released Jack’s hand and followed her into the kitchen, bracing for whatever interrogation was waiting for me. The moment the door closed behind us, she whirled on me, eyes wide.
“Mia Harris, why didn’t you tell me he comes from money?” she hissed, her voice low but intense.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Because it’s not important.”
“Not important?” She looked at me like I’d grown a second head. “It sounds to me like he comes from change your life kind of money.”
“I don’t care about his family’s money,” I said firmly. “I care about him.” Oh. Shit. Where had that come from?
Mom rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m sure you’re very much in love,” she said with enough sarcasm to fill a swimming pool. “Well, you’re going to have to do your best to keep a man like that. Did you have a chance to look at that diet plan I sent you?”
“Yup.”
“And?”
For answer, I grabbed the platter of rum balls. “I’ll take the dessert. You get the coffee.”
“Don’t be so sensitive, Mia,” Mom called after me as I pushed through the door. “I’m only thinking of what’s best for you.”
I plastered a smile on my face as I returned to the dining room, setting the platter of chocolate rum balls in the center of the table with hands that barely trembled.
Go me. Jack’s eyes found mine immediately, his brow furrowing slightly as he read the tension in my face.
I was really starting to adore that frown.
“Everything okay?” he asked quietly as I slid back into my chair beside him.
“Fine,” I whispered back, trying to mean it.
Without warning, Jack’s hand slid up to the nape of my neck, his fingers slipping beneath my hair to find the pressure point.
He applied just enough gentle pressure to ease the anxiety simmering inside me.
The touch was so intimate, so knowing, that I had to fight to keep my expression neutral. Now was not the time to be turned on.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out. When Jack sensed that I’d calmed down enough, he moved his hand away. Before I had a chance to miss his touch, though, he linked his fingers with mine.
“These look amazing,” Jack commented as Mom returned with the coffee. “Did you make them yourself, Helen?”
Mom preened under his attention. “I did. It’s an old family recipe. The secret is using just the right amount of dark rum.”
“They’re Mom’s specialty,” Megan added. “I’m having her make them for the wedding dessert table.”
Jack selected one and held it up, examining it with appreciation. Then, to my complete surprise, he turned to me with a playful smile. “You have to try one of these.” Before I could react, he was holding the chocolate to my lips.
My face burned as everyone at the table watched. Jack’s eyes held mine, challenging and warm all at once. I parted my lips and allowed him to place the rum ball in my mouth, his fingers lightly brushing against my bottom lip.
The rich chocolate and rum flavor exploded on my tongue, but I barely registered it. All I could focus on was the intensity in Jack’s gaze as he watched me eat from his hand.
“Delicious,” I managed to say once I’d swallowed.
“They are good,” Megan interrupted, clearly desperate to reclaim the attention.
“Speaking of the wedding, I wanted to tell you about the pre-wedding spa weekend we’re planning at Lake James.
It’s going to be amazing. All the bridesmaids, Mom, Charles’s mom and sisters.
.. we’ve rented three cabins. It’ll be like a girls bonding retreat. ”
Okay, so this is what hell on Earth looked like.
“When is this happening?” Jack asked, his interest seemingly genuine.
Megan beamed. “The third weekend in October. Friday through Sunday. Everyone’s staying for the whole weekend.”
Jack frowned slightly. “I’m afraid Mia isn’t available that weekend.”
I turned to him, genuinely confused. “I’m not?”
At the same moment, Megan’s smile faltered. “She isn’t?”
“No, I’m afraid not. I’m taking her to Paris that weekend.”
The silence that followed was absolute.
“Paris?” Mom finally managed, her voice faint with shock. “As in France?”
“Yes,” Jack replied, as casually as if he’d just announced we were going to the mall. “I’ve booked the tickets. It’s meant to be a surprise, but I suppose the cat’s out of the bag now.”
“But that’s the spa weekend,” Megan protested, her voice rising with indignation. “She has to be there! She’s the maid of honor!”
“You can have your spa day any weekend,” Jack said reasonably. “Our trip is already arranged.”
“It is not just any spa day!” Megan insisted, her cheeks flushing. “Everyone needs to be there! It’s my special weekend!”
Jack’s expression remained pleasantly neutral. “I’m sure your weekend will be wonderful regardless,” he said. “But our plans are already set, as I said.”
Under the table, he squeezed my hand, silently urging me to play along. I managed to nod, though I was still trying to process what was happening.
“But I’ve already put down the deposits,” Megan whined, looking to our mother for support.
Mom was too busy reassessing Jack to notice her favorite daughter’s distress. “Paris,” she repeated, her eyes gleaming with new appreciation. “How... romantic.”
“You can’t just take her to Paris!” Megan’s voice had risen to a pitch that made me wince. “This is my wedding we’re talking about!”
“The wedding is in February,” Jack pointed out calmly. “This is October.”
“It’s part of the wedding experience!” Megan slammed her hand on the table, making the coffee cups rattle. Charles placed a restraining hand on her arm, which she immediately shook off. “Why do you always have to ruin everything?”
“Megan!” Mom finally snapped to attention. “That’s enough.”
Megan stormed from the room, leaving an uncomfortable silence behind her. Charles offered an apologetic smile before following after her.
“Well,” Ted spoke up for what felt like the first time all evening. “Guess she’s still got that temper.”
Jack checked his watch. “I’m afraid we should be going. I have an early meeting tomorrow.”
“But you haven’t finished your dessert,” Mom protested weakly.
“Everything was delicious,” Jack assured her, standing and pulling out my chair. “Thank you for a lovely evening.”
The goodbyes were mercifully brief, then we were out the door and walking to Jack’s car. He opened the door for me, like always, but before I could slide inside, he said, “I hope you have your passport ready.”
My heart stuttered . “What the fuck? You’re not seriously taking me to Paris.”
“Sure I am.”
“Are you feeling okay? That’s crazy talk.”
He shrugged. “Get in the car, Mia.”
I did as he said, watching with confusion as he walked around to the drivers side.
“Okay, explain yourself. Paris? Really? I thought we were just pretending.”
Jack started the engine, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the dashboard lights. “We are pretending.” His voice was calm and even as he pulled away from my mother’s house. “But the pretense has to be convincing.”
I couldn’t resist rolling my eyes. “And that requires an international trip?”
“It does if I’ve already told your family we’re going.” His hands were relaxed on the steering wheel, but something in the set of his jaw told me he was more tense than he was letting on.
“You just made that up on the spot,” I countered. “You could easily tell them our plans changed.”
Jack was quiet for a moment, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “I could,” he finally said. “But I don’t want to.”
“Why not?”
“Because you deserve Paris.”
His simple statement knocked the wind out of me. I stared at his profile, trying to make sense of what he was saying.
“What do you mean?”
“Look, I agreed to be your fake boyfriend to help you deal with your family. If I’m going to do this, I want to do it right.
” He glanced at me briefly before returning his eyes to the road.
“Your sister gets to have her special weekend with all the attention on her. Why shouldn’t you get something special too? ”
“Because it’s insane!” I blurted. “Paris is halfway around the world. It’s expensive. It’s... it’s too much.”
“It’s a weekend, Mia. A few days in Paris is well within my means.” The way he said it, so matter-of-fact, made me aware of the vastly different worlds we came from. “I know it seems extravagant, but if we’re selling this relationship to your family, we need to make it believable.”
“And you think spending thousands of dollars on a weekend trip is believable?”
Jack was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice had a different quality to it. “I think it’s believable that I would want to take you somewhere special. Somewhere that would make you happy.”
My heart did a funny little flip in my chest. “But why Paris specifically? You just pulled that out of nowhere.”
His lips quirked up at the corner. “It wasn’t entirely random. Paris in October is beautiful. The summer tourists are gone, but the weather is still good.” He shrugged. “And it seemed like the kind of place that would piss your sister off the most.”
That surprised a laugh out of me. “Wow. Didn’t think you had that kind of petty in you, Sullivan.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he replied, that half-smile still playing on his lips.
We drove in silence for a few minutes as I tried to process everything. Jack Sullivan wanted to take me to Paris. Not because he had to, not because it was part of some business deal, but because he thought I deserved it. Because he wanted to make me happy.
“I can’t let you do this,” I finally said.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s... it’s too much. For a fake relationship.”
He stopped at a red light and turned to look at me, his dark eyes serious in the dim car interior. “Mia, let me do this. Please. Or at the very least, think about it.”
Something in his voice made my arguments die on my lips. The light turned green, and he returned his attention to the road, leaving me staring at his profile and wondering what the fuck was really happening between us.
“Okay,” I heard myself say. “I’ll at least consider it.”
Jack’s smile was small but genuine. “Good. That’s all I ask.”
As we drove through the quiet streets toward my house, I found myself stealing glances at him, wondering what other surprises Jack Sullivan had in store. Paris. With Jack. Did I have the strength to say no to that?