Chapter 3 · The Fake Marriage

"It's just dark gray," I replied.

"Gray, black—what's the difference?" Bethany frowned. "Look at Phoebe; she's always so put together."

I followed her gaze, and my whole body stiffened.

Phoebe was standing in the center of the living room, wearing a light pink dress, beaming as she linked arms with Georgia and fed her a piece of cake.

Georgia was all smiles, patting Phoebe's hand. "Phoebe, you're so thoughtful. None of those grandsons' wives can compare to you."

Phoebe looked up and locked eyes with me.

She smiled at me, sweet and gentle.

But behind that warm smile, her eyes were brimming with smugness.

I stood frozen, my nails digging into my palm.

Jordan walked over, caught the look on my face, and muttered under his breath, "My mom invited her. I had no idea."

"Oh," I said flatly.

I didn't bother saying anything else, slipped away to a corner, and sat down.

Throughout the whole party, Phoebe was everywhere—serving coffee, pouring water, chatting with Georgia, sharing jokes with Bethany—acting like she was the hostess herself.

I just sat in the corner, like I was nothing but an extra, completely out of place.

Halfway through the party, Georgia suddenly spoke up. "Jordan, just look at Phoebe. She's smart, polite, and really cares about family. Why didn't you go for her back then?"

Everyone's eyes snapped to us at once.

Jordan's hand paused mid-air, still holding his wine glass.

Phoebe lowered her head, acting all shy. "Georgia, please, Jordan's already married."

Georgia snorted and glanced at me. "Married? I've never even seen your marriage certificate."

Her words hit like a bomb, and the whole table went dead silent.

Bethany's fork froze in mid-air, and Jordan's face went pale.

As for me, I picked up my cup and took a sip.

What was Georgia getting at?

Did she know we never actually registered our marriage?

Or was this something the whole Holland family knew from the very beginning, and I was the only one left in the dark?

After the birthday party, I didn't leave with Jordan.

I grabbed a cab to a café on the south side of town, since I'd received a message from Phoebe earlier that afternoon.

She said: [Audrey, can we meet in person? There are some things I feel should be said face to face.]

I went, not because she invited me, but because I wanted to see for myself what this woman—who lingered in Jordan's mind—was really after.

She was already sitting by the window, two cups of coffee in front of her.

When she saw me, she stood up, looking perfectly composed and graceful.

"Audrey, have a seat," she said.

I sat down, but didn't touch the coffee.

"Get to the point," I said.

Phoebe smiled, pulled a stack of photos from her bag, and slid them across the table to me.

I lowered my gaze and took a look.

They were all snapshots of Jordan and her—shopping together, eating out, watching movies. In one, they stood in front of a villa, Jordan all smiles as he carried her bags, looking genuinely happy.

There were dates written on the back of each photo.

Every single one was from the last three months.

"Audrey, I don't want to sneak around or do things behind your back. That's why I asked you here today—to clear the air," Phoebe said.

Her smile faded, and her expression turned serious.

She went on, "Jordan never got over me. These past three years, he's been miserable. He never wanted any of this—it was all because you pushed him."

I didn't say a word.

She kept going, "He got me a place to live, and he spends time with me every week. His mom and grandma are all about me. You know better than anyone what your place is in that family."

"So what?" I asked.

"So I hope you'll be classy and just leave," Phoebe said, meeting my eyes. "Audrey, he's not yours anymore. Instead of waiting to get tossed aside, why not walk out on your own? At least you'll have a little dignity left."

I looked at her perfectly made-up face and suddenly thought the whole thing was just ridiculous.

"Phoebe, you're right. I really can't make him stay," I said.

She looked a little too pleased with herself.

"But there's one thing you've got all wrong." I stood up and grabbed my bag. "I'm not leaving because I can't keep him. I'm leaving because I don't want him anymore."

Phoebe's smile froze on her face. "What... what do you mean by that?"

I didn't say a word—just turned and walked away.

She got flustered, hurried after me, and grabbed my wrist. "Audrey, quit acting tough. You really think you look all chill and above it all? You're just—"

Before she could finish, the café door swung open.

Jordan stood in the doorway, his eyes darting between me and Phoebe, his face darkening in an instant.

"What are you two doing?" he demanded.

Chapter 3

"It's just dark gray," I replied.

"Gray, black—what's the difference?" Bethany frowned. "Look at Phoebe; she's always so put together."

I followed her gaze, and my whole body stiffened.

Phoebe was standing in the center of the living room, wearing a light pink dress, beaming as she linked arms with Georgia and fed her a piece of cake.

Georgia was all smiles, patting Phoebe's hand. "Phoebe, you're so thoughtful. None of those grandsons' wives can compare to you."

Phoebe looked up and locked eyes with me.

She smiled at me, sweet and gentle.

But behind that warm smile, her eyes were brimming with smugness.

I stood frozen, my nails digging into my palm.

Jordan walked over, caught the look on my face, and muttered under his breath, "My mom invited her. I had no idea."

"Oh," I said flatly.

I didn't bother saying anything else, slipped away to a corner, and sat down.

Throughout the whole party, Phoebe was everywhere—serving coffee, pouring water, chatting with Georgia, sharing jokes with Bethany—acting like she was the hostess herself.

I just sat in the corner, like I was nothing but an extra, completely out of place.

Halfway through the party, Georgia suddenly spoke up. "Jordan, just look at Phoebe. She's smart, polite, and really cares about family. Why didn't you go for her back then?"

Everyone's eyes snapped to us at once.

Jordan's hand paused mid-air, still holding his wine glass.

Phoebe lowered her head, acting all shy. "Georgia, please, Jordan's already married."

Georgia snorted and glanced at me. "Married? I've never even seen your marriage certificate."

Her words hit like a bomb, and the whole table went dead silent.

Bethany's fork froze in mid-air, and Jordan's face went pale.

As for me, I picked up my cup and took a sip.

What was Georgia getting at?

Did she know we never actually registered our marriage?

Or was this something the whole Holland family knew from the very beginning, and I was the only one left in the dark?

After the birthday party, I didn't leave with Jordan.

I grabbed a cab to a café on the south side of town, since I'd received a message from Phoebe earlier that afternoon.

She said: [Audrey, can we meet in person? There are some things I feel should be said face to face.]

I went, not because she invited me, but because I wanted to see for myself what this woman—who lingered in Jordan's mind—was really after.

She was already sitting by the window, two cups of coffee in front of her.

When she saw me, she stood up, looking perfectly composed and graceful.

"Audrey, have a seat," she said.

I sat down, but didn't touch the coffee.

"Get to the point," I said.

Phoebe smiled, pulled a stack of photos from her bag, and slid them across the table to me.

I lowered my gaze and took a look.

They were all snapshots of Jordan and her—shopping together, eating out, watching movies. In one, they stood in front of a villa, Jordan all smiles as he carried her bags, looking genuinely happy.

There were dates written on the back of each photo.

Every single one was from the last three months.

"Audrey, I don't want to sneak around or do things behind your back. That's why I asked you here today—to clear the air," Phoebe said.

Her smile faded, and her expression turned serious.

She went on, "Jordan never got over me. These past three years, he's been miserable. He never wanted any of this—it was all because you pushed him."

I didn't say a word.

She kept going, "He got me a place to live, and he spends time with me every week. His mom and grandma are all about me. You know better than anyone what your place is in that family."

"So what?" I asked.

I looked at her perfectly made-up face and suddenly thought the whole thing was just ridiculous.

"Phoebe, you're right. I really can't make him stay," I said.

She looked a little too pleased with herself.

"But there's one thing you've got all wrong." I stood up and grabbed my bag. "I'm not leaving because I can't keep him. I'm leaving because I don't want him anymore."

Phoebe's smile froze on her face. "What... what do you mean by that?"

I didn't say a word—just turned and walked away.

She got flustered, hurried after me, and grabbed my wrist. "Audrey, quit acting tough. You really think you look all chill and above it all? You're just—"

Before she could finish, the café door swung open.

Jordan stood in the doorway, his eyes darting between me and Phoebe, his face darkening in an instant.

"What are you two doing?" he demanded.