ARABELLA

CHAPTER4

IN LOVE WITH HIM

Mia's POV

I walked two blocks from the Sterling Gallery before the tears came. Ridiculous, shameful tears I slapped away with the back of my hand, and no doubt smeared my mascara all over my face. Who knows how many people saw the mess I was in as they rushed through SoHo during their lunch break?

He is having dinner with her.

Why wouldn't he be? Eva Sterling is everything I am not. She is sophisticated, enigmatic, tough and she has the potential to bring out the worst in guys like Xander. She wears red lipstick like a gun and designer clothes like armor. She owns a gallery in New York City. And I am...Mia. Safe, sweet, uninteresting Mia. We've known each other since we were eight. I have always been there for Xander. I bring him coffee when he works late, I listen to his problems with his father, I have loved him for what feels like an eternity. But I am afraid to tell him how I feel because I do not want to lose the one steady positive influence in my life.

My phone rang. It was Xander: "Hey are you alright? You kinda bolted."

I stared at the text message. He was concerned about me. That is what Xander does--he cares about others. And he is clueless about the fact that his best friend is madly in love with him.

I responded with a text message: "Yeah, I'm fine. I gotta go, I remember I had a meeting. She sounds awesome. I'm happy for you."

Each word of my text message was a lie wrapped around a smiley emoji.

Xander responded with another text message: "Thanks Mimi. Let's catch up on coffee this week. It has been way too long.”

Mimi. The nickname he'd given me when we were kids because I'd been obsessed with some cartoon character. The nickname that reminded me every single day that I was stuck in the friend zone so deep I'd need a mining operation to escape.

"Can't tomorrow. Swamped with the new exhibition. Rain check?"

Another lie. I had nothing tomorrow. But I couldn't sit across from Xander and pretend to be excited about his date with Eva Sterling. I couldn't smile and nod and play the supportive best friend when my heart was breaking into a thousand pieces.

Mimi. The name Xander was called me as a kid because I was obsessed with an animated cartoon figure. The name that reminded me every single day that I was so far into the friend zone that I would have needed a mining crew to dig out of it.

"Can't tomorrow. Too busy with the new exhibit. Raincheck?"

Xander lied again. Tomorrow I don't have anything to do. But I couldn't sit across from Xander pretending to be thrilled with his date with Eva Sterling. I couldn't pretend to be a happy and enthusiastic and supportive best friend while my heart was broken into a million pieces.

I walked aimlessly until I found myself at the Central Park Bethesda Fountain where Xander and I used to go when we were teenagers. He sketched the fountain (he used to draw before his dad forced him to attend business school), and I would recite poetry to him, and we'd talk about escaping our predestined lives.

I never escaped. I went to Columbia University like my parents wanted me to, earned a Master's degree in Art History and Curating like they told me to, and took the job at the Modern Museum of Art thanks to my dad's connections. I was a good daughter. A good friend.

But for the first time in my life, I wanted to be more than just good.

When I looked up to ask my mom how she knew I was there, I saw Patricia Hart, my mother, standing in front of me with two coffee cups and a sly grin. My mother was beautiful, as she always is; silver streaks throughout her chestnut brown hair in a perfectly cut bob, designer shades, a Burberry coat. She handed me a cup of coffee and sat down next to me.

"How did you know I was here?" I asked.

"I could see your location on my phone. And I have motherly intuition." She took a sip of her coffee. "Do you want to tell me why you are sitting in the park by yourself looking like someone just cancelled Christmas?"

"I'm fine, Mom."

"Mia Sophia Hart. I have known you for twenty-one years. You are many wonderful things, but a good liar is not one of them." She turned to face me fully. "This is about Xander, isn't it?"

I felt fresh tears threatening. "How did you—"

"Sweetheart, I've known you've been in love with that boy since you were fifteen." Her voice was gentle. "The question is, when are you going to do something about it?"

"He doesn't see me that way, Mom. He never has. I'm just... I'm his friend."

"Have you talked to him about how you feel?"

"No!" I exclaimed in a firm tone. "I couldn’t possibly talk to him. What if talking to him ruins our friendship? What if he feels the same way as me, but then we’re going to have an uncomfortable situation because of it, and I’ll end up losing my best friend?"

"And what if he feels the same way as you do?" My mom questioned me back. "And what if he has been wanting you to tell him how you felt all along?"

I shook my head again. "You didn’t see him today with her – the new woman, Eva Sterling. The way he looked at her – Mom, he’s never looked at me like that!"

Mom sat quietly for a bit, taking another sip of her coffee and watching the fountain. After a few moments, she spoke again. "When I was your age, I was deeply in love with your dad’s best friend – Thomas. Thomas was fun, good looking, and made my heart beat fast. Your dad was safe, stable, and...boring." Her eyes sparkled as she caught my shocked look. "Yes, I’ve had my fair share of romance drama."

"What happened?"

"I chose the excitement over being safe," she explained. "Thomas and I were together for six months. It was very passionate, very intense, and absolutely wrong for us. We crashed and burned so dramatically – so badly."

She reached for my hand. "And then your dad showed up. Patient, kind, and waiting. He had loved me from the start, but he never forced his feelings on me. He simply...waited. One day, I realized that being safe and stable wasn’t boring — it was home."

"You are suggesting that I should wait until Xander gets over this Eva Sterling woman?"

"I am saying that sometimes the exciting choice is not the best choice. Sometimes the person you’ve had by your side all along is the exact person you need," she said, squeezing my hand. "However, I am also saying that you need to be honest with him — the two of you don’t have time for what ifs. Life is far too short.”

I looked down at our joined hands. My mother's perfectly manicured. Mine with paint still under the nails from yesterday's art therapy session with kids at the hospital. We were different, my mother and I, but she understood me better than anyone except maybe Xander.

"What if it's too late?" I whispered. "What if he's already falling for her?"

"Then at least you'll know. At least you won't spend the rest of your life wondering."

We sat in comfortable silence, and I found my mind drifting to Eva Sterling. There was something about her that bothered me beyond the obvious jealousy. Something in her eyes when she'd looked at that violent painting—grief and rage barely contained beneath a polished surface. And the way she'd looked at Xander, assessing him like he was a puzzle to solve rather than a person to know.

I pulled out my phone and searched for Eva Sterling. Her gallery website was sleek and professional. Her i********: was carefully curated—beautiful art photos, glimpses of high-society events, but nothing personal. No family photos, no college throwbacks, nothing before six months ago. It was like she'd appeared fully formed out of nowhere.

"What are you doing?" Mom asked.

"Research."

"Mia..."

"I just want to know who she is. What she wants with Xander." I kept scrolling. "Doesn't this seem weird to you? No digital footprint before six months ago? No tagged photos with friends? It's like she's..."

"A ghost," Mom finished. "Or someone with something to hide."