I knew the end of Mia's tantrum was far from near. With any hindsight, I could have predicted the stealthy way Mia would slip from my sight and the way she would go to bat with Callum—only with her piercing eyes—before I finally found her, again.
But I didn't think to keep a watchful eye on her and merely hoped she would remain in an easily locatable junction.
She didn't.
I lost her during the photo shoot.
Rubbing the back of my neck was no use. The cloth that was supposed to be there was gone and hopefully still over Mia's horrendous dress. She wouldn't take the scarf off, would she? Perhaps she would, but she had made her point with the rag. There would be no clear aim then. She wouldn't. I hoped she wouldn't.
I found her eventually, strolling about the hallway closest to the ballroom. She appeared nearly the same as before, determination blazing in her blue eyes.
"I was looking for you," Mia stated simply. Surprisingly, I couldn't find the tell-tale signs of anger on her face, never mind stress or worry.
This Mia was more concerning than the Mia who would gladly rage like a toddler.
"Yes?" I raised a brow. I wouldn't admit I was looking for her too. Either way. I had to take opportunities when I got them. I beckoned her to my side. "Follow me. We can walk and talk."
Now trailing beside me, Mia combed a hand through her brown hair. "I'm not a git, Mum."
"I didn't say you were."
"But you did..." She swallowed hard. "I know what I'm getting myself into. And I know it's going to be hard, but design is my passion. You will never understand that, though."
Of course, I knew Mia would volley the discussion in my direction, but I didn't expect the confrontation so soon. She was unwavering in her position for certain. For better or worse, Mia wanted to prove herself or rather her unremarkable future life choices.
"I don't have to understand the severity of your conviction to go into design to know the facts of the industry." As she slowed to a stop, I grabbed her arm, dragging her along with me. The destination of our room calling louder by the second. "There is always a possibility of failure. That dress doesn't show me you can be successful in design. I want you to be successful, Mia."
Not like me and my lousy start to a professional life.
"I'm not going to fail." Her tone was stiff, slowly edging into the tone I was accustomed to.
Scanning the hallway, I found the correct set of doors, ushering Mia inside her hotel room. Quietly, I said, "There is no certainty in anything, Mia."
"Why don't you ever believe in me?" Mia's voice cracked. "You never do. Every time I ever do something, anything, you shut it down. Every bloody time."
I do believe in you. I should have said that along with thousands of other consoling words. I didn't. I couldn't. She wouldn't care what I said, or how I said it. She would only listen to Arthur, and even then, she barely heeded his words. She would never learn to see the reality of the real world clearly. I would have to repeat myself over and over again to no avail. She would keep her ears shut and mouth open. I suppose my mouth would be open too.
I tugged her suitcase open.
"I don't believe in your behavior or your attitude." I sighed, kept rummaging through Mia's clothes, and hoped she would come to a slow simmer, maintained. "Your actions were uncouth. There are other ways you could have handled your emotions. You did not have to ruin the dress. Anna not only spent an ungodly amount of money on the dress, but Callum wanted you up there with him."
"You're so held up on the frock. You never listen!" The water reached a rolling boil. "Do you even know what I just said?"
"You don't think I'm listening to you? That is what we are doing at that moment, Mia, discussing this."
She bit the inside of her cheek.
"The problem isn't the dress." I started again. Her jaw slacked. "The dress is an inanimate object while your very animate self stitched it together. It's rubbish, Mia. The dress is rubbish."
"It isn't!"
"Really? What did you plan to do with the dress afterward? Put it in the bin? Repurpose it for Halloween?"
Staring at me, a bit dazed, Mia managed a scowl. "Not about my career... I can do what I want with my life. It makes me happy" —she stepped forward— "and you can't take that away from me."
"Dreams don't pay bills." Shoving a pair of jeans and a t-shirt into her limp arms, she flinched, not recovering her hard scowl instantaneously. "Do you think your sister's medical bills are going to magically disappear?"
Internally, I whacked myself upside the head. I knew I shouldn't have brought up Molly. There was too much to be said. So much that I didn't want to hear repeated. So much that Mia could say... things I knew she would say. Things that would send the molten lava over any open crevices in my universe, vulnerable parts.
"I, I don't–You don't care about Molly anyway," Mia whispered, glowering out behind my head. "All you care about is this bloody wedding and that bullying slag!"
I care about Molly, I wanted to shout. But those words would fall on deaf ears. She didn't care about how the mere thought of Molly ripped my heart to shreds. It wasn't her job to, after all. Even the exploding feelings were irrelevant in this case. They would only make this already emotionally charged situation worse. Never mind, inhaling wasn't as simple as it had been minutes ago. My heart clenched painfully in my chest, and my body felt heated, on fire. Maybe the temperature rise was due to the light streaming in from the window or perhaps an internal process exploding through my system. The temperature brought a growing sense of discomfort.
Searching for a phrase and concentrating on the rise and fall of my chest, I said steadily, "It would be wise for you to remove that word from your vocabulary."
"That's all you have to say?" Mia scoffed. "You, of all people, have nothing to say."
Her coarse laughter sent a wave of heat up my spine.
"Mia," I started. "Some things aren't meant to be controlled. You have no control over the wedding. You have no control over Anna's behavior either. I know how you feel" –the word made my jaw tick– "about her. She changed. Callum wouldn't have married her if she hadn't. Your brother isn't an idiot."
"But she hasn't changed. Callum is a git. And you" –she jabbed a finger at me– "can't even see that! She hit Molly, Mum! That was her car!"
All I could do was sigh and grumble to myself about Mia's daydreams now. Ever since Callum "introduced" Anna to Mia, Mia had every accusation imaginable stockpiled against Anna. She hated her that much. I would too if I were her, maybe attempt to ruin her life through a series of well-planned events and the right people filming the horrific incident to be posted online. I'm sure neither of us could react like Arthur. He seemed to have all the self-control in the world. He consoled Mia and Molly and asked if they wanted him to report her. They didn't. As a joke, he asked if they wanted him to go after the girl's father. They did. He could have gone after her father any day of the week and won. He could have even put the man back together with his first aid knowledge if needed, save for any humiliating memories. He didn't go after the bugger, though.
Donald was a coward. Anna was too. The likelihood that Anna was driving under the cover of darkness was unlikely. She could have conveniently been where Molly and Mia were that night. Mia wasn't right. She had no proof. In simple fact, it was a hit-and-run. The driver would never be caught. Molly would be okay... for the most part.
"You know this, how? You realize Anna doesn't own every–"
"That isn't what I'm saying! Believe it or not, I'm pretty observant." Her knuckles turned white around my scarf. "That's one of the reasons why I'm good at fashion design. Can you not see that? I haven't lost the plot!"
I never said that. The words echoed in my head.
"Go change, Mia. We don't want to miss lunch," I finally said.
She scoffed. "Whatever."
More than anything, my brain converged with molten lava, making for a boiling pit of despair. The thoughts wouldn't go away, Molly at the center. She was still in the hospital. We were gone, hundreds of miles away. I wasn't with her when she needed me most... I could be at the wedding of the very person who sent her to that wretched place.
The thought irked me.
Health was more valuable than money any day.
After all, did one have a stable future without a working body and mind?
If Anna hit Molly, there was more reason to let the searing pain of the wedding shoot through me. I could and would make the remainder of Anna's life a living hell. Hot, miserable, inescapable.