Page 23

Let’s Just Get This Over With

Aleks

Mia felt a thousand miles away.

In reality, she was only standing a few feet from me on the deck of a luxury yacht gliding through the beautiful blue-green water of the bay. Her brown hair was blowing in the breeze, her body close enough to touch if I wanted.

But her eyes were shielded by large sunglasses, her mouth in a tight line as she sipped from her champagne glass and listened attentively to her publicist.

She was right here, and yet, on another planet completely.

I wondered if she was just hungover, if all that tequila from the night before had come back to bite her in the ass.

Or was she feeling the remnants of last night the same way I was, like a sticky residue from an unknown substance that you just can’t quite scrub off?

I couldn’t put a name to the unease in my chest as we prepared to pull off our fake engagement to the world. I laughed when it was appropriate, cracked jokes right on time, and carried my shoulders square and back.

But it was a feigned confidence — one I masked not just for this publicity stunt, but because I had no fucking idea what I was so knotted up about.

It had been a fun night together. I knew she’d needed it — to let loose, to pretend to be a normal human being instead of a pop star. I was still smiling just thinking about her celebrating our yard pong win in that floppy cat mask.

But I was also fighting nausea over something I couldn’t quite place.

A sick longing for something I knew I’d never have, maybe.

“So, the paparazzi has already been snapping photos of the boat. They know you’re on it. But we waited purposefully to drop the tip until all they could photograph was a blurry photo of the yacht.”

Isabella ran through what I imagined was a timeline on her tablet like she was coordinating a concert or gala appearance. She was in business mode, locked in and focused with her pink hair pulled back into a sleek bun and her eyes on the prize.

“We’re heading back in now, and once we’re close enough for them to get a good, clear shot, we’ll have you two go to the bow for your big moment. Aleks, you have the ring?”

I tapped the inside pocket of my sports coat. “Ring pop secured.”

Isabella narrowed her eyes at my joke before getting right back to business. “And Mia, you’re ready to give us the performance of a lifetime?”

Mia snapped out of her daze, turning to Isabella and staring blankly at her for a long moment. Then, she shoved her sunglasses up onto her head, beaming, eyes bright and wide. They glossed with tears as she covered her mouth with her hands, shaking her head.

“Oh, my God! Aleks! I can’t believe this!” She said each word with fake enthusiasm and surprise. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she dropped her hands and the whole act, her smile leveling out as she put her sunglasses back on and folded her arms over her chest.

Isabella blinked at her. “Okay, Moody Pants.”

“She’s hungover,” I offered by way of explanation — and I didn’t miss how Mia studiously ignored me, swallowing and holding her gaze somewhere over the horizon.

“Your fault, no doubt,” Isabella said. “Okay, next, we need to talk about when we get back to the marina. So the security team…”

Isabella continued on with the plan, and I listened more intently than usual mostly because I could tell that Mia was barely listening at all. Isabella was almost finished when Giana piped up from where she’d been silently tapping away on her phone beside us.

“Wait! I have an idea.” She stood, bouncing a little on her toes as she looked at me and then Isabella. “Okay, I know we just have pictures staged, but… what if we had a,” she held up her hands and did air quotes, “ stewardess on board record a video on their phone and leak it after? Not just blurry pictures, but a live video of it happening with sound and everything.” She paused, rolling her lips together when none of us responded. “And by stewardess, I obviously mean me. I’d record the video.”

Isabella pointed her stylus pen at G. “Okay, that’s gold.” She looked at me next. “But we didn’t prep a speech.”

“Is that your way of asking if I can handle one on the fly?”

“He can,” Giana said before I could.

I echoed the sentiment. “I got this.”

That made Mia’s attention snap back to us. She shook her head, sliding her sunglasses up into her hair again. I loved when she did that. She looked a little like the girl I used to hang out with by the pool in Chicago, and a little like the mom she could be someday — the perfect mix. Her face was shiny with sunscreen, her lashes painted with mascara, but her face otherwise void of makeup. She looked like she belonged on this boat — blue linen shorts, loose button-up white top hanging off her shoulder and exposing the black strap of her swimsuit underneath it, bare legs and bare feet, a silver chain hugging the delicate bone of her left ankle.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” she said. “You… what are you going to say?”

“Don’t worry about it.” I winked at her.

She flattened her lips. “Okay, that just makes me worry more.”

“It’ll be a surprise — just like your ring,” I said, tapping my jacket pocket again. “Trust me.”

Mia arched a brow at me, and when I looked at Isabella, she wore a matching expression.

I laughed out a sigh. “Listen, I can do this. And if you hate my speech, then we just delete the video and don’t leak it. It’s as simple as that.”

That made Isabella’s shoulders relax. “Good point — we can take the video as if the stew is hiding behind the bar or something. And yeah, if you suck, we just don’t post it.”

“Most women like when I suck,” I shot back. “Especially in little rhythmic patterns, with two fingers placed just so.”

I curled my fingers and did a come hither motion with a cocky smirk.

Giana flushed and coughed and looked down at her phone. Mia rolled her eyes. Isabella sucked her teeth.

Not a single one of them laughed.

“Tough crowd,” I muttered, tucking my hands in my pockets. I nudged Mia next to me. “Not even a smile from you.”

“Some of us are taking this seriously,” she said, and when her eyes landed on me, hard and cold, I frowned. What had happened between last night and this morning that I’d missed?

I looked to where Isabella and Giana were chatting about the plans before gently grabbing Mia by the elbow and tilting her away from them, shielding her from their view with my body.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” she bit out.

“Very convincing.”

At that, she sighed, pulling her sunglasses back over her eyes even as the sun sank behind thick clouds. “Let’s just get this over with.”

· · ·

Mia

“You don’t have to do this,” I whispered low enough so only Aleks could hear as we walked toward the bow of the boat, the setting sun casting a perfect glow over the teak deck. It was hot as hell, as was par for the course in Florida, but on the water, it wasn’t so bad. There was a breeze, the salt sticking to my skin. I tasted it when I licked my lips.

“You still think I’m going to back out at the last minute, huh?”

“I just mean the whole speech thing,” I clarified, sliding my hands over the railing with my eyes set on the horizon. I knew there were already eyes on us, camera lenses zoomed in as far as they could go, shutters clicking, dollar signs rolling in the eyes of the paparazzi we’d tipped off. So, I forced a smile that I spoke through, pretending like I was having the time of my life.

“Why, don’t think I have it in me?”

“I just don’t think it’s necessary.”

“You’re so grumpy today.”

I huffed a laugh in my chest at that. Grumpy. That was one word for it. And really, the only word I could think of that was close to what I was feeling.

Was there a word for slightly hungover, wholly fulfilled by how much fun I had last night, confused about my feelings for my best friend I’m now about to pretend to get engaged to, and completely frustrated over his deflection of my questions last night and his seeming frustration that I’d asked at all?

There’s a challenge for you, Webster.

I couldn’t keep up with my thoughts last night, but they’d run rampant like little hellions, and kept me awake long after Aleks dropped me off. I thought about the night with Aleks, how much fun I’d had, how good it had felt to let loose. But then I’d think about the pier, about how not once, but twice, I’d thought maybe, just maybe, he was going to kiss me.

He seemed close enough to do it.

He seemed like he wanted to do it.

But that just showed I was still a na?ve girl who knew nothing at all, because he hadn’t. And why would he? There was no one around to perform for.

If the last time I’d asked him to kiss me wasn’t proof that he didn’t want to, I didn’t know what was.

But… he was so damn confusing. He was flirting with me on that pier, wasn’t he? The ice cream, the way he held me when I almost fell…

Was it really just a joke to him?

Did he honestly feel nothing?

And then he shut me out when I asked about wanting a family. That was what infuriated me most. I knew he let me in more than he did anyone else, but he still kept me at a distance in times like that, as if he didn’t trust me with the real answers.

I blamed that tornado of thoughts and my lack of sleep for how touchy I was now.

But inside, I knew it was also because Aleks was about to fake propose to me.

And I had no fucking idea how I felt about that.

Aleks slid up behind me once I was positioned at the bow, his arms wrapping me up tightly as he widened his stance and bent low enough to rest his chin on my shoulder.

I knew it was all for show, but it didn’t stop my heart from thundering in my chest at the way it felt to be held by him, didn’t stop my next swallow from being so damn difficult to take that I gave up completely.

“Do you still want to go through with this?” he asked softly in my ear.

My nostrils flared, two truths battling for dominance inside me. On the one hand, I absolutely did not want to do this. I didn’t want to subject myself to more pretending with Aleks when I had so many not-so-fake feelings for him tearing me up. Just hearing him say last night that what he wanted didn’t matter, that love and marriage and having a family wasn’t in the cards for him… God , it made me want to prove him wrong.

It made me want to hold him, and kiss him, and tell him I…

What?

Love him?

My stomach soured with the thought of saying that out loud, though my heart kicked in my chest with the fact that it was true.

I did love him.

I always had.

But on the other hand, I understood what he didn’t say. It wasn’t just that he didn’t think it was in the cards for him — it was that he didn’t really want it. He didn’t want to say it to me, didn’t want to admit that he liked his lifestyle of the rich and famous, but he did.

He wanted to score goals, make money, and fuck whoever he wanted.

That was the truth he was hiding.

And in a way, I understood — because I wanted success, too.

I wanted this for me, for my career. I wanted the picture Isabella had painted. I loved the achievements of the album so far, the projection that my tour was going to sell out stadiums, the fact that every time Garrett Orange or one of his cronies ran their mouths about me, we were quick to bury his ass with a more enticing story of our own.

We’d taken control of a narrative I thought I had no say in.

Garrett had been robbed of attention the same way he’d tried to rob me of my success, and I thrived on that power.

In the end, that part of me won out. Because I didn’t know another way to handle Garrett the Ferret, but I knew I could snuff out my feelings for Aleks. I’d done it for years. I was practically a professional in the art of denying myself when it came to him.

Ever since the night he made it clear what I was to him — and what I would never be.

“Yes,” I answered, tilting my chin just enough so Aleks could see I wasn’t bluffing. “I want this. I just don’t want you to embarrass yourself trying to get this video. It’s not something we need. The photos will be enough.”

He chuckled, the sound a low rumble against my neck. “Ye of little faith,” he tsked. “You don’t think I can deliver a swoony proposal speech.”

“I just—”

“Woman,” he said, cutting me off with a squeeze of his hands at my hips. Then, the bastard nipped at my earlobe, making my eyelids flutter when he lowered his voice even more and growled in my ear. “Shut up and let me inspire your next song.”

I wanted to roll my eyes.

I wanted to scoff and shove him off me and tell him he was dreaming if he thought I’d ever put any of this in a song.

But I was too busy trying not to spin out of orbit, my fingers curled around the metal bar at the bow so tightly my knuckles were white. My entire body responded to his hands on me, to his voice in my ear, to the words still echoing long after he said them.

Damn him for being so good at pretending, for making it look so easy.

Damn him for making it impossible for me.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Isabella called from where she was hiding out of sight in the main salon. The door was open so she could talk to us — and so Giana could sneakily get the video from a stew’s point of view. “I just got confirmation that we’re in good sight. Fire away, Romeo.”

Aleks took a long, deep breath, letting it out slowly as he thumbed my skin where he held my hips. He did it again, this time, waiting for me to do it with him.

“Breathe, Strings,” he said in my ear. “I’m right here with you.”

On our next exhale, Aleks released me, keeping one hand on the small of my back as he slid up beside me. He leaned an elbow on the metal bar, then his hand trailed up to sweep my hair back from my face, and he cradled my neck, waiting for me to face him.

My heart cracked when I did.

He was so brutally handsome, it was like a fist straight to the gut when I looked at him. It was the wildest phenomenon, to see him both as the rugged man he was standing before me and also as the quiet, reserved boy who’d first stolen my heart all those years ago. I knew no matter what happened next between us, no matter who he dated or who I married or where our careers took us — I would always be able to close my eyes and see him.

I would always feel him like he was a part of me.

Aleks stared at me for a long moment, his throat constricting as he thumbed my jaw line, his brown eyes almost golden in the setting sun where they traced every inch of my face. He wet his lips, shaking his head a bit.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said softly.

I knew Giana was filming, so I leaned into his palm, telling myself it was all for show even as my stomach tightened and my knees grew weak.

“And I don’t just mean your eyes, or your hair, or your lips,” he said louder, loud enough for Giana to pick up with her phone. He tapped my bottom lip with that comment, smirking. “Although I do love these lips. These are the kind of lips that could launch a thousand ships, as they say.”

I couldn’t fight the way my lips curled.

This poor kid.

He was going to crash and burn trying to give this speech.

“I could go on and on about everything that makes you gorgeous — your dimple, your beauty mark, your legs, your smile. But all of that is… to be frank, Mia, it’s so fucking boring compared to what really makes you beautiful.”

I arched a brow at that, and he smiled, shaking his head before he was pulling me to face him more squarely, his eyes searching mine.

I wished I’d worn my sunglasses out here now.

I wished I had something to hide behind, with how he was staring right through me.

“It’s your heart, and your soul,” he said, swallowing. “It’s how music lives within you even when you don’t intend for it to. It’s how you light up every room you walk into, how you love your family and your friends so fiercely. It’s the way you laugh, the way you cry, the way you open yourself to feeling every emotion life has to offer, never running from them even when I know they hurt.

“It’s the way you share that pain with the world, the way you embrace being vulnerable and ask us all to be brave enough to do the same. It’s the way you fight for what’s right, for your voice to be heard, for all voices to be heard.”

His brows bent together, and he wet his lips, pausing for a moment like he wanted everything he said to be perfect.

Meanwhile, my heart was thundering now, building up the storm already raging inside me.

I couldn’t believe the things he was saying.

I couldn’t tell if he meant them, or if this was just some Oscar-worthy performance.

That confusion I felt last night quadrupled, and suddenly, I felt so lightheaded I had to grip the bar at the bow even tighter for fear I’d fall over.

“Mia, I have had the pleasure of watching you grow up,” he finally continued. “I have watched you transform from the girl who cared so much about what others thought of her to the woman who doesn’t give a damn, who inspires other girls all around the world to be exactly who they are and to love every piece of themselves.”

My eyes flooded with tears — and not because I willed them to.

He might have been faking it.

But this felt all too real to me.

“When we were younger, I told myself I was too much for you. When we were apart over the years, I told myself I wasn’t enough. But now, for reasons I will never pretend to know or understand, the universe has put us together again. It’s given me a chance I know I don’t deserve. But I can promise you this — I won’t waste it.”

I swore his hands were shaking a bit as he took mine in his, swore it wasn’t just in my head how his jaw tightened as he lowered himself down to one knee.

Fake, Mia.

Pretend.

All for show.

But those thoughts wouldn’t stick. The first tear slid down my cheek as soon as his knee hit the teak, my heart collapsing at the sight of him bent there before me the way I’d pictured in my dreams more times than I could count.

“I am an honest man,” he said, his voice deep but a bit shaky. “Even with myself. And I know I am not what you deserve. I know I fall short in so many ways. I know that I can be irrational, and loud, and broody and cold. I know I can shut the world out and do some really stupid shit. But I could never shut you out, Mia.” He swallowed. “And I could never stop loving you — no matter how hard I tried over the years.”

I blinked, two more hot tears searing my cheeks.

And my heart thundered at his words, at how believable he made them sound.

Fuck him for doing this to me.

Fuck him for saying that with his eyes locked on mine as if he actually meant it.

“I can’t promise I’ll be perfect. In fact, I know I’ll be everything but.” His hands squeezed mine before he peeled them away so he could reach into his jacket pocket. “But if you let me, I will love you with every fucked-up piece of who I am, with every shredded fiber of good I have left in me. I will protect you, and care for you. I will make you laugh. I will hold you when you cry. I will stand behind you and support you and celebrate you always.”

He paused, taking a breath as he pulled the midnight blue velvet box from the pocket of his sports coat.

“I know this is crazy,” he admitted, and then he smiled that beautiful, crooked smile that had first made my teenage heart burst into flames. “But so are we.”

He popped the box open, and I didn’t have to fake the gasp that ripped from my throat.

I covered my mouth with both hands, more tears spilling over as I stared at the most beautiful ring I’d ever seen. I couldn’t even remember it from the showing with the jeweler at Aleks’s condo. Then again, that had all been an out-of-body blur. I didn’t want to pick out my own wedding ring — even if it was fake. It felt so strange, like a bad omen of some kind.

And Aleks had known it.

He’d shooed me away. He’d picked out a ring to surprise me.

He’d picked out a ring better than any I could have ever imagined for myself.

I wasn’t even sure what the stone was nestled in the delicate and intricate gold setting, but it was a mixture of green and black and gray, a swirling whirlpool of beauty in a perfectly sized gem. The brilliant band sported tiny leaves of diamonds to frame the stone — one branch spiraling up to hug the top of it while the other hugged the bottom.

It was like an entire fairytale told without a single word.

It was enchanting, and magical, and stunning.

It was perfect.

“Marry me, Mia,” Aleks whispered, like the words were strangling him. He cleared his throat and spoke louder, his dark eyes fixed on mine. “Marry me.”

Whatever I’d practiced, whatever fake show I’d planned to put on at this exact moment? It was impossible now. I was so overcome with emotion I could barely nod, could barely breathe through the tumultuous disorientation forcing more tears down my cheeks as I held out a shaking left hand.

Aleks pulled the ring from the box and slid it onto my ring finger.

It fit perfectly.

Then, he stood, his own eyes red and rimmed with tears as he stared down at me. He wiped the tears from my right cheek with his palm, and then mirrored that action on the left until he was framing my face.

He bent, and I pressed up onto my toes, and our lips met in a kiss far too tender, a kiss that reverberated through me like an earthquake that I felt all the way down to my toes.

I threaded my arms around his neck, holding him to me even when he tried to pull away. Even if this was just for show, I didn’t care.

I wanted to pretend not for them, but for me.

I wanted to soak in every second of this fantasy where Aleks said those things to me and meant them, where he asked me to marry him and I said yes, where he loved me.

Where he was mine.

My grip seemed to be the only cue he needed. Aleks inhaled me, wrapping his arms around my frame and holding me so tight it was like he was afraid I’d float away.

I opened my mouth, and his tongue slid inside, lighting a fire deep in my stomach when it danced with mine.

That spark sent lust vibrating through me.

That flame seared my body, my heart, my soul.

That fire burned me.

And then sent me flying back to Earth in a fiery ball of reality.

I broke away from the kiss, fighting off more tears as I pressed against his chest to put some much-needed distance between us.

“I…” My next breath came more panicked than the one before it, and then again, and again, until my chest was rapidly rising and falling in a pattern I couldn’t control. “Excuse me.”

I barely got the words out before I was darting inside.

I tried to pretend like I was running over to celebrate with someone inside the boat, but I wasn’t sure if I pulled it off as I brushed past a celebrating Giana and a giddy Isabella. My publicist and friend tried to hook me by the elbow and hug me, but I yanked out of her grasp, sprinting for the nearest head.

I barely had my hands on the toilet seat before I gagged.

And I stared at that ring on my finger the entire time I retched.