Page 108 of Mila: The Godfather

Yet I feel zero nerves.

It feels… right.

Unsent message from M

C,

I hope you’re okay wherever you are.

I hope… I hope you’re happy. -M

Just In Case

MILA

“She’s my masterpiece.” – R

I’ve been seeing the same person every day for as long as I’ve been alive, reflected back at me while looking in the mirror. Just an ordinary girl with ordinary looks. Boring. Safe. Just me.

Nothing to get excited about.

Not today.

Today, the person looking back at me in the mirror feels like a stranger and a friend at the same time. I can’t put into words or explain this feeling more eloquently.

It’s like it’s me, but not really.

I’m wearing a mid-length, blue-green satin, backless dress that is neither casual nor too elegant. It’s very pretty and matches perfectly with the clear strap heels and the tiara on top of my head.

Yes, a tiara.

One with small butterflies made of diamonds.

It’s safe to say that I don’t look like I typically do. I ditched the mom jeans, sneakers, and oversized shirts, which are my go-to attire. Oh, and my cap.

I don’t have it with me.

“You look so beautiful…” A chirpy voice startles me, and I turn away from the mirror to find Maeve standing at the doorway of the room she brought me into after we left Riagan in the living room area. She changed her clothes and is now wearing a dress similar to mine but in a different color. Black. Her pink hair is pulled up in a high ponytail with her bangs perfectly divided in the middle. She looks stunning and kind of like an anime character.

“Thank you.” I offer her a small smile, feeling a bit anxious about being alone with her. Not because there’s something wrong with her but because it’s just a habit of mine. She’s been nothing but kind, but you never know. “You look very pretty.” I mumble, focusing on her pink strands.

“He picked it, you know?” She steps into the room and comes to stand next to me near the mirror.

Frowning, I ask. “Who picked what?”

“Your dress and the hairpiece. The boss, Riagan, picked all of it.” She laughs softly. “He sent me to pick them up last week, and I thought he finally lost it. All those hits to the head must’ve done a whole lot of damage because why would he purchase a wedding dress when we’ve never even seen him with a woman. Not one that was serious, anyway.”

The thought of Riagan hurting makes me nervous.

But the thought of him with another woman, serious or not, makes me angry and sad.

More sad than angry, actually.

“He didn’t know about me a week ago.” I whisper while I play with the ring on my finger. His ring.

“Oh, he knew about you, sweet Mila.” My eyes meet hers for a moment, and they seem happy. “You’re everything he was missing and more.”

I find myself at a loss for words.

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