"They say brunch is the most relaxing meal of the day. But clearly, 'they' have never had brunch with Jackson Carter."
I was already regretting agreeing to this. The café was noisy, my coffee was lukewarm, and Jackson was halfway through his third croissant, leaving a trail of crumbs that somehow managed to land on my side of the table.
"Slow down," I muttered, flicking a crumb off my sleeve. "You're eating like they're going to outlaw carbs tomorrow."
"Don't give them ideas," Jackson said, mouth full. "Besides, I'm carb-loading for… brunch stuff."
Before I could roll my eyes, I caught sight of a familiar blonde figure at the counter. My stomach dropped. No. No, no, no.
It was Bianca Monroe. Jackson's ex-fiancée. The woman I had not asked to make an appearance in my life.
---
Bianca wasn't the kind of person you could ignore. She moved through the café like she was gliding on a conveyor belt of her own self-importance. Everything about her—her perfect posture, her designer bag, her too-perfect smile—screamed, I'm better than you, and I know it.
I ducked my head, hoping she wouldn't notice us. Unfortunately, Jackson chose that exact moment to wave like an overenthusiastic child.
"Bianca!" he called, grinning like this was a sitcom reunion instead of my worst nightmare.
Bianca's gaze landed on us, and her smile sharpened. She strutted over, her heels clicking against the tile like a countdown to my doom.
"Well, well," she said, her voice smooth as silk. "Jackson Carter. It's been a while."
---
Bianca turned her laser focus on me, her smile as polished as her diamond earrings. "And you must be the wife," she said, holding out her hand.
"Lila," I said, shaking it reluctantly.
"Lila," she repeated, her tone dripping with faux friendliness. "It's so nice to finally meet you. Jackson's told me so much about you."
"Oh, really?" I asked, arching an eyebrow. "Because he's told me absolutely nothing about you."
Bianca's smile faltered for half a second before she recovered. "Well, I suppose some things are better left in the past."
Jackson snorted into his coffee. I shot him a glare, but he just leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the show.
---
"So, Jackson," Bianca said, sliding into the seat next to him like she belonged there. "I've been meaning to reach out. There are some things I'd love to talk about. Closure, you know?"
"Closure?" I repeated, my tone sharp enough to cut glass.
Bianca ignored me, her gaze locked on Jackson. "We were such a big part of each other's lives. It feels wrong not to have a proper goodbye."
I looked at Jackson, half-expecting him to shut her down. Instead, he grinned. "Closure, huh? Should I be worried?"
I kicked him under the table, making him wince. "Not at all," Bianca said sweetly. "It's just… unfinished business."
"Unfinished business?" I muttered under my breath. "Right. Like a fire that forgot to burn the whole house down."
---
Bianca kept talking, her voice syrupy and insincere, while Jackson listened with that infuriating smirk on his face. I was two seconds away from flipping the table.
"Unfortunately," I cut in, forcing a smile, "we're late for an important meeting. Right, Jackson?"
He blinked at me, clearly confused. "We are?"
"Yes," I said through clenched teeth. "Very late."
I grabbed his arm and yanked him out of his chair before Bianca could protest. She watched us go, her smile as sharp as ever.
---
We barely made it out of the café before Jackson burst out laughing. "Wow. You were jealous."
"I was not jealous," I snapped, glaring at him.
"Sure you weren't." He mimed my voice, pitching it high and dramatic. "'Unfortunately, we're late for an important meeting!'"
"I saved you from an ambush," I said. "You should be thanking me."
"Saved me?" Jackson grinned, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Pretty sure I was doing fine. Bianca and I were just catching up."
"Oh, is that what you call it?" I shot back. "Because it looked more like a 'Hi, I'm here to ruin your marriage' session."
Jackson's grin widened. "You're adorable when you're mad."
---
I thought that would be the end of it. I was wrong.
Later that afternoon, we returned to the apartment to find a bouquet of white lilies on the doorstep. The card read: "Jackson—let's catch up soon. Love, Bianca."
Jackson tilted his head, inspecting the flowers like they might explode. "Huh. That's new."
"She's stalking us," I said, crossing my arms.
"Technically, she's stalking me," Jackson corrected, then grinned. "But don't worry, Mrs. Carter. I'm all yours."
I grabbed the flowers and tossed them in the trash. "You're lucky I haven't thrown you in there too."
---
That night, I sat on the couch, scrolling through my phone and trying not to stew. But the truth was, Bianca's sudden reappearance was bothering me more than I wanted to admit.
It wasn't that I was threatened. Jackson and I weren't even a real couple. But still… she was everything I wasn't: poised, polished, and completely at ease in the chaos that was Jackson's world.
I glanced at Jackson, who was sprawled across the couch like a content cat, flipping through TV channels. "Does Bianca still… mean anything to you?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.
He looked at me, surprised. Then he smirked. "Jealous again?"
"No," I said quickly. "I'm just… curious."
"Relax, Mrs. Carter," he said, his tone light. "Bianca's ancient history. You're the only woman in my life now."
"For now," I muttered under my breath.
---
The next morning, I was halfway through my coffee when my phone buzzed with a text from an overly nosy friend. The message read: "Spotted at the country club!"
I opened the attachment, and my stomach dropped. It was a photo of Margaret Harper, my mother, sitting at a table with none other than Bianca Monroe.
"They're having brunch," I said, my voice flat.
Jackson leaned over my shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "Is that your mom?"
"Yes," I said, my tone clipped.
"And is she… having brunch with my ex-fiancée?"
"Apparently!"
Jackson whistled, shaking his head. "Man, your family really knows how to keep things interesting."
---
I dialed Margaret's number, pacing the kitchen as the phone rang. She answered on the second ring, her voice chipper. "Lila, darling! How are you?"
"What are you doing with Bianca?" I demanded.
"Oh, Bianca? She's such a lovely girl," Margaret said breezily. "We just ran into each other at the club and decided to chat."
"About what?"
"Oh, business, mostly. She has some… fascinating ideas about the company."
"Mom," I said, my voice sharp, "what are you doing?"
"Relax, Lila. It's nothing to worry about. Anyway, I have to go. Kisses!"
She hung up, leaving me staring at my phone, my mind racing.
Bianca wasn't just back. She was scheming. And somehow, she'd roped my mother into it.
"I didn't know what Bianca was planning, but I wasn't about to let her win. Not this time."