Best Friend, Baby Daddy, Billionaire

MIA

“Oh, Mia, you look beautiful.”

I glance up in the mirror of my vanity and see my mother standing in the doorway, looking at me like I’m a show dog with a blue ribbon pinned to my collar. I roll my eyes and go back to doing my makeup, wanting to get it just right for my party tonight.

“Thanks,” I say, brushing another coat of mascara over my lashes.

“I can’t believe you’re nineteen,” my mom continues, stepping into the room without waiting for an invitation. “That’s practically an adult.”

“I’m already an adult,” I reply, leaning back slightly to check my lashes. “That’s how it works. Every year I get another year older.”

“True,” she nods. “And yet you’re still here, living at home.”

“There it is,” I mutter under my breath. “Jake still lives at home, and he’s two years older than I am.”

“Jake is a junior at one of the most prestigious universities on the East Coast,” she says immediately, like she’s been waiting for that. “He maintains a perfect GPA while working for his father. And he lives in his parents’ guest house, not his childhood bedroom.”

“So, build a guest house, and I’ll move into it,” I say, dryly.

Jake Callahan has been my next-door neighbor for as long as I can remember—ever since his family built their massive compound on the property next to ours. Up until then, I thought my parents were rich. I grew up in a six-bedroom antebellum house that impressed everyone who stepped inside. But the Callahans are something else entirely. Their house isn’t just big—it’s a world of its own. You can barely see it from ours unless you’re on the third floor, looking over their privacy fence.

Close enough, though, that Jake and I used to talk for hours on walkie-talkies when we were supposed to be asleep.

I drag my eyeliner across my lid a little more slowly, steadying my hand.

“Did you want something,” I ask, glancing at my mom in the mirror, “or did you just come up here to remind me how perfect Jake Callahan is?”

“What’s going on with the two of you?” she asks, narrowing her eyes. “You used to be joined at the hip.”

I shrug, even though the question lands harder than I want it to.

“Nothing. He’s in college. I’m working. We’re not kids anymore.”

It’s been eight months since Jake has been over here. Two years since we’ve spent any real time together. Ever since he met Dana.

I don’t say that part out loud.

Instead, I reach for my lip gloss, keeping my tone light.

“People change. They move on.”

My mother studies me for a moment, like she’s deciding whether to push further, but then her attention shifts to the corner of my room—my camera, my ring light, the setup I use to film.

She still doesn’t understand how I make money this way. Free makeup, brand deals, posting videos—it all sounds suspicious to her. What I really want is to model, but that’s not exactly something you can build from North Carolina, and my parents aren’t about to send me to New York to figure it out.

So I’m saving. Quietly. Patiently.

“You still have four hours before the party,” she says. “You’re getting ready already?”

“I’m just doing my base,” I explain. “I’m filming a Get Ready With Me before I leave.”

She gives me that same blank look.

“Did you need something?” I ask again.

She softens slightly. “No. I just saw you in the mirror and… you really do look beautiful.”

I meet her eyes this time and smile, just a little.

“Thanks.”

“So pretty that you’ll help me move to New York?” I add, flashing a grin.

“Nice try,” she laughs. “The last thing I want is my only child living five hundred miles away in one of the most dangerous cities in the world.”

“That’s not even close to true,” I mutter.

“They’re not like us up there,” she continues. “They don’t have our values.”

“Okay,” I say, already moving on. “Can you close the door on your way out?”

She hesitates, like she wants to argue, but eventually she leaves, shutting the door behind her.

The room finally goes quiet.

I let out a slow breath, then reach over and switch on my ring light.

“Hey guys,” I say, smiling as I hit record. “Get ready with me for my birthday party tonight.”

I go through the routine automatically—foundation, contour, highlight—talking through products and brands, angles and lighting. It’s easy. Controlled. Predictable.

Unlike tonight.

Because in a few hours, Jake is going to walk into that party.

With her.

I finish filming, post the video, and head downstairs.

“I’m going!” I call out as I step into the foyer, not waiting for a response.

Outside, my gold glitter golf cart is exactly where I left it. Everyone in Poplar Farms has one—it’s the easiest way to get around the community. I check my reflection in the mirror, adjust a strand of hair, and then press my heel against the pedal.

The August heat is suffocating, thick and heavy, and I move quickly from the parking lot into the clubhouse, letting the air conditioning wash over me.

Inside, everything looks perfect.

The ballroom is set exactly how we planned—lights glowing softly, tables arranged just right, candles flickering, flowers placed perfectly. Even the dance floor sparkles.

I step into the center of the room and slowly turn in a circle, taking it all in.

For a moment, I let myself imagine it.

Jake’s hands on my waist.

My head resting against his shoulder.

The two of us swaying together like we used to at every high school dance—homecoming, prom—like nothing ever changed.

Like he didn’t leave.

Like he didn’t fall in love with someone else.

My chest tightens.

Tonight would have been the perfect time to tell him how I feel.

If he wasn’t bringing Dana.

I should have known. Of course he is. Dana Watson—the New England princess, the girl from Martha’s Vineyard, the one he fell for his first year of college.

Happy birthday to me.

I exhale slowly and turn toward the hallway, heading for the suite my mom rented as a VIP space. I need water. A minute to breathe. Something to get myself together before everyone arrives.

But as I pass the bar, I hear voices.

I stop.

“You’re going to do it tonight?” someone asks.

My stomach drops before I even hear his answer.

“No, not at the party,” Jake says. “We’ll just make an appearance, then I’ll take her out to the lake.”

There’s a pause.

“I’ve got champagne ready,” he adds.

“Wow,” the other guy says. “You’re really doing this.”

A beat.

“I love her,” Jake replies.

Something inside me twists.

“But you’re about to start your senior year,” the other voice says.

“It doesn’t have to happen right away,” Jake says easily. “All I know is…”

I stop breathing.

“Tonight,” he says, “I’m going to ask Dana to marry me.”

Jake.

Will shakes his head, not even trying to hide his disapproval.

I sigh and slide the ring back into my suit pocket, pressing it flat against my chest for a second like I need to remind myself it’s real. I bought the setting last month in Raleigh, then had my parents’ diamond guy finish it. My parents were surprised when I told them I was proposing—same as Will—but they like Dana. More than that, they like her family.

As far as they’re concerned, it’s a perfect match.

“I just don’t get it,” Will says, draining the last of his beer and setting the glass down a little harder than necessary. “Why would you want to settle down this early? You already spent all of college tied to one girl. Now you’re going to waste your twenties too.”

I huff out a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “When you know, you know.”

“That’s what people say right before they ruin their lives.”

“Good thing you’re not in charge of mine.”

He rolls his eyes but smirks a little, like he can’t fully commit to being annoyed with me.

I check the time, debating whether I want another drink before heading back to the house, but decide against it. There’s going to be an open bar at the party, probably already set up in the ballroom next door, and I don’t want to be buzzed when I do this.

Everything needs to go right.

“Are you nervous?” Will asks, studying me more closely now.

“A little,” I admit. “I don’t know if she’ll say yes.”

He lets out a short laugh. “She’s not going to do better than Jacob Monroe Callahan the Fourth.”

“Fifth,” I correct automatically.

He blinks. “Seriously?”

“If you’re going to mock my name, at least get it right,” I say, looping an arm around his neck and steering him toward the exit.

We’re still laughing when we push out into the hallway—

—and nearly run straight into Mia.

Will grins immediately. “Well, if it isn’t the birthday girl.”

“Happy birthday, Mia,” I say.

The words come out softer than I expect.

And then I make the mistake of actually looking at her.

Mia has always been pretty. That easy, effortless kind of pretty that never needed much attention. The girl-next-door you grow up with and stop noticing after a while because she’s always just… there.

But this—

This isn’t that.

She’s still petite, but everything about her feels sharper now. More defined. The soft edges I remember are gone, replaced by something… deliberate. Confident.

Dangerous, almost.

Her dress doesn’t leave much to the imagination. Not in a way that’s overdone, just enough that my brain registers things I have no business registering.

Her legs.

Her waist.

Her lips.

I drag my gaze back up before I can stare too long.

She’s already looking at me, but there’s something off about it.

Not just surprise.

Something tighter.

“Thanks,” she says quickly, but her eyes flick past me, then back again like she can’t decide whether to stay or run.

There’s a beat.

A strange, awkward beat.

I open my mouth, not entirely sure what I’m about to say—something normal, probably—but she cuts me off before I can get there.

“Um—I have to go,” she says. “I have to… do something.”

She hesitates for half a second, like she might say more.

Then she doesn’t.

She slips between us, brushing past my shoulder, and disappears down the hallway like she’s being chased.

I turn slightly, watching her go.

“That was weird,” I say after a second. “It’s like she couldn’t get out of here fast enough.”

“Who knows,” Will shrugs. “Maybe it’s bad luck to see someone before their own party.”

“I don’t think that’s a thing.”

But I’m still looking over my shoulder.

She’s already gone.

I frown, something about the whole interaction not sitting right.

There was a time when I wouldn’t have just let her walk away like that.

I would’ve followed her. Asked what was wrong. Known what was wrong before I even had to ask.

There was a time when I knew everything about Mia’s life.

Every detail of every party. Every guest list. Every stupid piece of drama she got caught up in. She would’ve called me last night, or the night before that, stressing about something small that felt big to her. I would’ve told her it didn’t matter.

I would’ve walked in with her tonight.

Straight onto the dance floor.

We always did.

We were good like that.

Better than good.

But that was a long time ago.

Things change.

People grow up.

And I have.

Most of my time now is spent with Dana.

I met her my freshman year, second semester, in the library.

I had been living at home at the time. My idea, not my parents’. I wasn’t sure about college, wasn’t sure about any of it, and living at home felt like a safety net. Like if I decided it wasn’t for me, I could just walk away.

I’ve never been good with change.

Not like Mia.

Mia didn’t think twice about anything. The day my family moved in, she ran straight over like we’d been friends our whole lives. No hesitation. No second-guessing.

She pressed a lucky penny into my hand the morning of my first day at a new school.

Told me I was going to have fun.

I held onto that penny all day.

Like somehow I could absorb her confidence through it.

When she started kindergarten the next year, I gave it back.

She didn’t even hesitate—just laughed and tossed it straight into the fountain outside the clubhouse.

That’s Mia.

Always has been.

The opposite of me.

College wasn’t easy at first. New people, new expectations, starting over again. I stuck to routines. The library. Quiet places where I didn’t have to pretend I knew what I was doing.

That’s where I met Dana.

She was sitting at a table surrounded by books, earbuds in, completely focused. I wouldn’t have noticed her—probably would’ve walked right past—except for her perfume.

It stopped me.

Familiar.

Grounding.

It was the same one Mia used to wear.

The memory hit before I could stop it, and something about that made it easier to walk up to her. Like I wasn’t starting from zero.

So I took a chance.

I told her I was going to be in the library for hours and asked if she wanted to grab coffee.

She said yes.

Dana isn’t like other girls.

She’s smarter than me—has a plan for everything. The first time she told me she wanted to be on the Supreme Court, I laughed because I thought she was joking.

She wasn’t.

She’s focused. Driven. Steady in a way that makes everything else feel less chaotic.

She fits.

Into my life. Into my family. Into everything I’m supposed to become.

I couldn’t get enough of her.

Still can’t.

She was surprised when I asked her to come down for Mia’s party. The two of them have never met. By the time Dana started visiting, Mia and I had already… drifted.

At first, the two-year age gap didn’t matter.

Then it did.

High school to college—it’s bigger than it sounds.

And somewhere along the way, we stopped being part of each other’s lives.

I tell myself that’s normal.

It probably is.

Still—

I glance back down the hallway again, even though I know she won’t be there.

I shouldn’t be thinking about her at all.

Not tonight.

Not when I already know how this night is supposed to end.

“I should head back,” I say, checking the time again. “Dana’s with my mom getting her nails done. They’re probably back by now.”

Will claps me on the shoulder. “Good luck tonight, man. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks.”

I step out into the heat, already running through everything in my head again.

The lake.

The willow trees.

The champagne in the cooler.

The ring.

Everything exactly how I planned it.

For the first time all night, something about that thought doesn’t sit quite right.

And for some reason—

I can’t stop thinking about the look on Mia’s face.