My step-father exhales into the phone. “Okay. That’s something we can live with.”
I push myself to my feet and carry the suitcase toward the door, then stop and rest my hand against the frame. My throat tightens unexpectedly.
“You’re moving today?” Mom asks.
“Yeah. I’m packing now.” I glance around again.
“So,” Devon says, “what’s happening with your apartment?”
“I’m keeping it.”
Both of them say at once, “Why?”
I laugh, because I knew this was coming. “It just makes sense. For now. I worked hard for it, so I’m not ready to let it go.”
“But you’re married,” Mom says, confusion threading with concern. “You have a home with your husband. Why would you need this place?”
“It’s… insurance,” I say instead. “A safety net. Just something that still belongs entirely to me.”
Devon speaks gently. “Okay, that’s reason enough.”
My parents are quiet for a moment.
Then, Devon adds, “And Brianna? You mentioned his little girl.”
A smile rises immediately. “She’s everything. Smart. Funny. She already has me wrapped around her little finger.”
Mom lets out a happy sigh. “You sound fond of her.”
“I am.”
“We trust you, MJ. We just love you and want to make sure you’re not making a mistake.”
My throat tightens. “I know,” I whisper. “I love you too.”
When I finally hang up, the apartment feels impossibly quiet.
One chapter closing.
Another one opening right beneath my feet.
36
MYA
It’s been a month since Worth and I got married in Paris.
And the tabloids have still not had enough of the news.
Every few days, there’s a new headline waiting for me before I’ve even had my first cup of coffee:SEATTLE’S MOST ELIGIBLE BACHELOR FINALLY OFF THE MARKET;MYSTERY BRIDE CAPTURES BILLIONAIRE’S HEART;FROM OFFICE TO ALTAR: THE MILLER MARRIAGE NO ONE SAW COMING.
Some articles are flattering, spinning our story into a modern-day fairytale. Others aren’t as kind. The gossip blogs love to remind the world that I used to serve coffee at Willow’s, that I’m “the ordinary girl who caught the boss’s eye.”
I told myself I wouldn’t look. That what people say doesn’t matter. But before I know it, I’m scrolling through comment sections like I’m searching for a reason to hate myself.
Worth says to ignore it. He doesn’t even blink when he’s asked about us. He’s calm, composed, and effortlessly convincing. Meanwhile, I feel like I’m living someone else’s life.
For the first few days after we came back, Worth was in full helicopter-dad mode, hovering, calling, checking in with Bri every hour like he could somehow make up for not being therewhen his ex-wife showed up. Brianna kept insisting she was fine, but I could tell he didn’t believe her.