Lila's POV: The Morning After
There's nothing quite like waking up in the morning and realizing your life has spiraled completely out of control.
For one blissful second, as I blinked at the ceiling, I thought maybe last night's dinner had been a fever dream brought on by bad takeout. But then I smelled it—coffee brewing in my kitchen. And not just coffee, but my coffee, the kind I only made for myself because I needed every last drop of sanity in my morning routine.
A sinking feeling formed in my stomach.
Dragging myself out of bed, I shuffled toward the kitchen, still hoping against hope that the coffee would be my only problem. But no. Life wasn't that kind to me anymore.
There he was.
Jackson Carter, my accidental husband, perched at my kitchen counter like he owned the place. He was shirtless—of course—and eating cereal straight out of my favorite mixing bowl, a smug grin plastered across his stupidly handsome face.
This is fine. Everything is fine.
---
The Morning Chaos
"Good morning, Mrs. Carter!" Jackson greeted me with far too much cheer for someone who had single-handedly derailed my life.
"Why are you still here?" I demanded, pointing at him like he was some kind of trespassing stray animal. "And why are you eating cereal out of my mixing bowl?"
"Didn't see any clean ones," he replied, completely unfazed. "And technically, I'm here because I live here now. Married couples live together. It's practically a rule."
I pinched the bridge of my nose, the beginnings of a headache forming. "We are not a real married couple. This is temporary."
"Tell that to the courthouse clerk," he said with a wink, taking another loud crunch of cereal. "And your mom. She seemed pretty sold on the idea last night."
I opened my mouth to argue, but the words got stuck somewhere between frustration and exhaustion. Instead, I grabbed the bowl out of his hands.
"Hey!" he protested.
"House Rule #1," I said, glaring at him. "No eating my food like a caveman. We use proper dishes in this household."
"Got it. Next time, I'll use a wine glass."
---
Jackson Settles In (and Lila Loses It)
By mid-morning, I realized Jackson had not only decided to stay but had fully moved in.
His leather jacket was draped over my pristine white couch. His boots were parked on my coffee table like decorative centerpieces. The contents of his duffel bag—T-shirts, random socks, and an alarming amount of granola bars—were scattered across my living room.
The breaking point, however, was when I picked up his jacket and discovered it wasn't just draped. It was stuffed.
"What is this?" I asked, pulling out a crumpled, half-eaten granola bar from one of the pockets.
"Snack storage," Jackson said casually, sprawled out on my couch like a man who had paid rent in this lifetime.
"Snack storage? In my living room?"
"Relax," he said, waving a hand. "I'll vacuum up the crumbs later."
I stared at him, my eye twitching. "House Rule #2: No leaving your stuff everywhere. This is not a frat house."
"Noted," Jackson replied, kicking his boots off the coffee table. "But what about pants? Are pants optional?"
"They are not optional," I snapped.
---
The Rules Are Set
After fifteen minutes of chaos, I gave up and officially laid down the law.
"If you're staying here," I began, pacing the room like an exasperated kindergarten teacher, "there are rules. Rule one: no walking around shirtless. This is not a fashion ad for deranged bachelors."
Jackson raised an eyebrow, looking down at his bare chest. "Are you sure? I feel like it really ties the room together."
"Rule two," I continued, ignoring him, "stop eating everything in my kitchen."
He held up my almond milk with a look of disdain. "This doesn't even count as food."
"Rule three: no annoying me."
"Define annoying," he said with a grin, leaning back on the couch.
"You existing is a good starting point," I muttered under my breath.
"Relax, Mrs. Carter. I'm a fantastic roommate. You'll see."
---
Ethan Makes His Move
1. The Phone Call
Just as I started to think things couldn't get worse, my phone buzzed. Ethan Grey.
"Lila," he said, his voice sharp and businesslike. "We need to meet. I have a solution to this mess."
"Why do I feel like I'm not going to like this solution?" I replied, already bracing myself.
"Because you won't," he said flatly. "But it'll work."
Against my better judgment, I agreed to meet him. Mostly because I needed to figure out what his plan was.
Jackson, of course, overheard the conversation.
"Going on a date with your old fiancé?" he teased, leaning against the counter. "Should I be jealous?"
"It's not a date," I snapped. "It's damage control."
"Sure, sure." He smirked. "Should I dress up for the wedding redo, or are we sticking with casual?"
2. The Meeting with Ethan
Ethan's office was as sleek and cold as he was. Everything was black, white, or gray, and the whole place smelled faintly of expensive cologne and intimidation.
"I've found a way to fix this," Ethan said, leaning back in his chair like a villain unveiling his master plan.
"Go on," I said warily.
He slid a check across the table.
"What is this?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
"It's to pay him off," Ethan said bluntly. "He'll leave you alone, and this whole thing will disappear."
I stared at him, anger bubbling up in my chest. "You don't get to pay people off like they're inconveniences, Ethan. I'm not some contract you can negotiate!"
"I'm trying to help you," he said, his tone clipped. "That man is clearly taking advantage of you."
"Jackson isn't taking advantage of me," I snapped. "He's just—" I stopped myself before I could say something I'd regret. "You know what? Forget it. This conversation is over."
I stormed out before he could argue, the sound of my heels echoing in the sterile hallway.
---
The Bizarre Living Arrangement
When I got home, Jackson had escalated his antics.
1. Rearranging Chaos
My furniture had been rearranged. My spice cabinet was in disarray. And my carefully curated bookshelf—alphabetized by author, thank you very much—was now organized by color.
"Why?" I asked, gesturing at the chaos.
"Why not?" Jackson replied, grinning as he petted my cactus. "Oh, by the way, this little guy? His name is Spike now."
"You're naming my plant?"
"It's not just a plant. It's our son."
I clutched the bridge of my nose. "This is going to be the worst month of my life."
2. Moments of Vulnerability
Despite the chaos, there were moments where I caught glimpses of a different side of Jackson.
When my kitchen faucet started leaking, he fixed it without being asked. When he saw me struggling to reach a high shelf, he grabbed the jar for me with a casual, "Don't hurt yourself, shorty."
And then there was the quiet moment where he mentioned his family.
"They're not exactly thrilled with me these days," he admitted, leaning against the counter. "Let's just say I'm not the golden child."
There was something in his voice—bitterness, maybe—that made me pause. But before I could say anything, he flashed me a grin and changed the subject.
---
The Next Challenge
As I settled onto the couch, exhausted from the day, my phone buzzed with a new message.
It was from Ethan.
A formal invitation to a high-society charity gala, complete with instructions to bring my "husband."
"I'm not going to this," I muttered.
"Sure you are," Jackson said, reading over my shoulder. "And I'm coming with you."
I glared at him. "Why?"
"Because billionaires love me," he said with a wink.
Last Line:
"A fake husband and a room full of judgmental billionaires. What could possibly go wrong?"