10. Mandy

My house had never been so loud.

Camera shutters, knocks, my doorbell going off every five minutes. The sound of people mingling or shouting, faces appearing outside my windows. I'd closed every blind, blocked them off with every curtain, turned on music louder than I could stand, and still they swarmed, yelling my name, shouting questions that I had no intention of answering.

I was furious. I hadn't stopped shaking since the meeting this morning. Jackson had called me multiple times, and each time, I'd sent him to voicemail. I refused to save his number in my phone; I had unintentionally started to remember more of his number with every call he made. But I'd never tell him that.

I didn't care about his promises, he was the reason I was in this position to begin with and I'd be damned if I bowed to him now, even if he did show me a smidgen of kindness when the panic set in. I hated myself for bending to it so easily at the time—I will not allow myself to be so vulnerable again.

My phone rang beside me, this time lighting up with a familiar face and name instead of Jackson.

Mom.

"Hi," I answered, my voice betraying me already and cracking on the only word I could manage.

"I'm outside," Mom said. I could hear the camera shutters and talking through the speaker. "Can you let me in? I've brought you some groceries and other things I thought you might need seeing as you're stuck inside."

I chuckled as I wiped my nose. "Yeah," I said, "Of course I'll let you in. Don't talk to them."

"I would never."

I hung up the phone and made my way to the front, the din from outside getting louder with each step away from my bedroom. As soon as I swung open the door, men and women from everywhere began to lunge toward it. Some with cameras, some with microphones, venomous words spilling from their mouths. In the middle of it all, Mom stood strong, groceries in hand and a smile on her face.

I grabbed her and quickly pulled her inside, slamming the door in their faces and locking it.

"Thank God you're here," I sighed, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her to me. "I didn't want to subject some poor delivery guy to the frenzy out there."

"Oh, honey, of course I'm here," she cooed, dropping the bags at my feet and hugging me tightly. "Why didn't you answer my calls yesterday?"

"I was too freaked out," I sighed. I pulled away, getting a good look at her. I was her spitting image, just younger, right down to the bags under her eyes that told me she hadn't slept well, either. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. You've got bigger problems than making sure your ma is kept up to date," she chuckled.

She followed me as I picked up the bags and carried them to the kitchen. They were heavy, filled to the brim. How long was she expecting me to be trapped for? One by one, I started pulling the items from the bags, filling up my fridge as Mom sat at the breakfast bar.

"So, pardon my curiosity," she started, resting her chin in her palms. "But is it true? What they're saying, I mean."

"No," I sighed. "It's not true, Mom. That's the problem."

"Can't you just tell them that?"

"I've tried. The ones outside don't believe me and I doubt that any others will." Blueberries, freezer. Bread, counter. Yogurt, fridge.

"That guy you were with… his name sounds familiar," she said, flipping open her phone. "Jackson Big?"

"He's famous," I explained, hoping to put a stop to that line of questioning before it went any further. I put what was left of the bags on the counter to sort later as I watched her study whatever photo she had up on her phone.

"No, I know that. But didn't you date a Jackson in college?"

"No," I lied.

She narrowed her eyes at me as she turned her phone around, a photo of me from ten years ago filling her screen, one arm around Jack's waist and a smile as wide as the Pacific Ocean plastered on my face as I stared up at him.

"He was a friend."

"Friends don't look at friends like that," she said simply, pushing her glasses up her nose as she locked her phone. "I used to look at your father that same way. I remember who he was to you. So be honest with me. Is it true?"

I sighed. I hated this, all of it. Even my own mother didn't believe me. "No, Mom, it isn't true. Yes, I dated him. No, we're not together now. What I said in that video was meant as past tense."

She pursed her lips together, her hands reaching out to grab mine like I'd done to Harry yesterday. "But you did love him at one point."

"I don't want to talk about that?—"

"You know," she said, her hands squeezing mine as she locked eyes with me, "Sometimes I worry that the things I went through after losing your father affected you. I don't want you to end up like me."

"I've completed steps to make sure I won't," I deadpanned, letting go of her hands and standing up straight. "I can't get hurt by love if I don't let myself feel it."

"I don't want that for you, either," Mom insisted. "A love like I had with your father is once-in-a-lifetime. If for a second you think you have that, you need to hold on tight to it."

I couldn't keep the scoff from crawling up my throat as I crossed my arms over my chest. "You think I love him? I detest everything about him. You know what he did to me. You know what I went through."

"I do know that" she nodded, her eyes growing softer as she took in my defensive posture. "I think a lot of your anger and fear comes directly from the feelings you had for him back in college and how much he hurt you."

"No," I snapped. "What I felt for him then is completely gone now. He won't ruin me. Not again."

————

Mom agreed to stay the night with me. She watched out the front window as I gathered spare blankets and pillows for her to sleep on the couch, her eyes wide as she stared at the news crews and paparazzi still stationed outside.

"You can't live like this," she mumbled. "What are you going to do, Mandy?"

I sighed as I lifted the comforter high, spreading it across the plush sofa. "I don't know. Jackson offered me a solution but I don't know if I'm going to take it."

She turned, brows furrowed. "What did he offer?"

"He wants us to pretend to be engaged. He said it would get the media off our backs for a little bit."

Even in the dim light of the room, I could see the concern on Mom's face as she walked toward me. "Honey. I say this because I love you and not because I'm trying to push you to do anything, but if Jackson genuinely thinks it would help, why don't you want to do it?"

"Because I don't."

"Miranda. Doing nothing has to be worse than trying something," she said. Slowly, she lowered herself onto the sofa, her bones creaking as her age showed a little. "I know you have a right to be angry with him?—"

"My anger is entirely justified," I interjected.

"I know."

"Do you?" I snapped, clutching the pillow between my fingers as the image of his face popped up in my mind, his soft expression as he looked down at me this morning when I panicked. Why did he have to be kind to me then? "He spent months building my trust. He knew I was wary of relationships, he knew that I was terrifiedof being in love because of you and Dad. I trusted him. I gave myself to him. And then he ran before I even woke up."

"Honey—"

"He hasn't even had the decency to explain himself!" I laid the pillow down on top of the other to keep myself from trying to tear it in half. "He knows exactly what he did to me and he hasn't even apologized."

Mom took a deep breath as she laid back on the couch, shuffling herself under the comforter and pulling it up to her chin. It suddenly felt like the tables were reversed, like I was tucking her in and she was just a child who didn't understand. "I know that. But he's trying to help you now. Maybe that's his way of apologizing."

"If that's his way of apologizing, he can shove it up his ass."

"Mandy."

"Mom."

"Just think about it. I can't always bring you care packages and spend the night. I have my own life," she chuckled, cracking a smile at me.

"I don't know. I think maybe the best thing is to just get out of the contract and put as much distance between him and me as possible. I hear Bermuda is nice year-round," I joked, forcing the smallest smile to my face just to make her feel better.

"If you move to Bermuda I will never forgive you," Mom laughed. "I'd never see you!"

"Only because you're scared of flying." I leaned into the motherly role, placing a little kiss on her forehead. "Go to sleep. You can put on rain sounds or something on your phone if the press is too loud."

"What a strange sentence to come out of my daughter"s mouth."

I chuckled as I got up. Even though I didn't like my situation, having her here and talking things through with her made me feel at least a little better about it all. I would get through it, I was sure of that. I'd been through worse.

As I got myself ready for bed, showering, brushing my teeth, and doing my skincare, I couldn't keep my mind from wandering back to this morning. Jackson had been far too kind to me. I almost wished he hadn't—at least then I could still be entirely justified in my anger. But he knew before I did that my anxiety was peaking, and he remembered from all those years ago that reassurance was my ticket to calming down. It hadn't worked, but he'd tried.

And I hated that.

My phone dinged on the countertop as I finished applying my night oil. I'd managed to set up my notifications to only show the things that mattered instead of the litany of pointless ones.

I'll cut you a deal, Mandy. If you're willing to go through with this, I'll ensure you get whatever you want, no strings attached. Name your price.

You know it would help both of us.

I sighed as I picked it up, double checking the number. Definitely Jackson.

I'd finally saved his name in my phone.