Married By Mistake

Chapter Three: The Fiancé

Elena's POV

My mother did not do surprise visits.

My mother did scheduled appearances, always with forty-eight hours notice, always with an agenda. If she'd broken her own rule, something had gone wrong enough to justify it.

My hands went cold around the phone.

"I have to go," I told Jax. "Now."

"Yeah. Go. I'll handle the courthouse thing tomorrow, I'll text you the details."

"You don't have my number."

"I do, actually. You put it in my phone last night under 'Elena, do not lose this.' Very confident in me."

I didn't have time to unpack that. I was already moving, half jogging down the courthouse steps, waving down a cab like my life depended on the next four minutes.

In a way, it did.

By the time I let myself into my apartment, Priya was standing in the kitchen holding two mugs of coffee like a hostage negotiator. No sign of my mother anywhere.

"She left," Priya said. "Twenty minutes ago. I told her you got called into an emergency vendor meeting."

"Did she believe you?"

"Your mother has never believed anyone in her life. But she left." Priya crossed her arms, studying me with the squint she uses on caterers lying about ingredients. "You look like you slept in a dumpster."

"Close enough."

"Elena."

"I don't have time, Priya. Julian's called eleven times. I need to shower. I have a florist consult at two."

"You're going to tell your fiancé nothing happened, and then go to a florist consult, on the same day you apparently didn't come home."

"That's the plan, yes."

She opened her mouth, closed it, made a small unconvinced noise instead. I took that as permission to disappear into my bedroom.

I showered fast and hot. Scrubbed off the previous night in eight brutal minutes.

Standing in front of my closet, I thought about how easy it used to be to get dressed for Julian. Pick the outfit that photographs well. Pick the version of me that makes sense next to him.

I put on that version now. The one that could survive a conversation with Julian Croft without flinching.

I almost believed it myself by the time I left the apartment.

He was already seated at the restaurant when I arrived. Already ordered for both of us, which I used to find thoughtful.

"There she is." He stood to kiss my cheek. Up close I could see the tightness around his eyes that no one else would catch. "I was starting to worry."

"I'm sorry. Nightmare morning. A vendor emergency, I had to handle it in person, my phone died."

The lie came out smoother than I expected. That unsettled me more than the lie itself.

"You could have texted from someone else's phone."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"It's fine." He said it in the tone he uses for things that aren't fine. Calm enough to make my stomach tighten anyway. "I don't love the idea of you unreachable for hours before your own engagement party. People notice things like that."

"Nobody noticed anything, Julian."

"Your mother noticed."

My fork stopped halfway to my plate. "You talked to my mother?"

"She called me. Worried. I told her I was sure you were fine, probably just caught up in work again." He said it lightly, like it cost him nothing. But there was a thread underneath, thin and taut, that I've learned to recognize without ever naming.

"I handled it. That's what I'm here for."

"I didn't ask you to handle my mother."

"No. But someone has to, and it's usually easier if it's me." He reached across the table, covered my hand with his. The gesture felt less like comfort and more like a lid going onto a jar.

"I've been thinking. With the wedding coming up, and everything on your plate, I set up a joint account. Just to simplify things. One place instead of five different cards."

I went very still.

"You set up a joint account."

"This morning. I would have asked first, but you weren't reachable. Figured it'd be one less thing on your list." He smiled the way he smiles at investors. Warm. Certain. Closing. "You'll thank me. It's already easier."

"Julian, that's my money too. You can't just—"

"It's our money, Elena. That's the point." His thumb moved once across my knuckles, slow, deliberate. "We're getting married in April. This is what married people do."

Somewhere in the back of my mind, the word married landed differently than he meant it. I thought of a lopsided signature on a certificate I still hadn't told him existed.

Two men. Two versions of what that word meant. One had asked my permission for nothing and called it love. The other had spent all morning trying to undo a mistake neither of us remembered making, and somehow that felt less dishonest than this.

I didn't know what to do with that thought, so I set it down the way I set down everything I don't have time for. Carefully. For later.

"I have to tell you something," I said, before I could stop myself.

Julian's expression didn't change. But his hand tightened, just slightly, around mine.

"Okay," he said. "Tell me."

My phone buzzed against my leg. Once, twice, insistent. I glanced down under the table, and the screen lit up with a name that had no business appearing in front of Julian Croft.

Jax: Bad news. The courthouse forwarded our file to the wrong county. We're gonna need a lawyer.