Mia genuinely loved weddings. She adored them. The atmosphere, the romance. The different bits and hints of the couple's tastes incorporated into table arrangements, flowers, the sheer color motifs. It was the kind of chapter in her life that she had dreamt of rarely, but looked forward to nonetheless.
If that was what her future had in store.
Waiting in the car that was bound for the reception, Mia rested her hands on the skirt of her olive green wrap dress. She glanced at the church outside as the crowd thinned. Clusters of guests hurried to the line of vehicles parked nearby. The newlyweds—whom Richard couldn't stop quietly gushing over during the ceremony—had left minutes ago, with white confetti caught in their hair and wide smiles stretched across their faces.
The car door to Mia's left opened suddenly, and the rush of wind caused the hem of her dress to sway. Her knee was now exposed, but she didn't mind it.
"Sorry," Richard said, noticing the change. He sunk into the seat, which Mia felt as the leather dipped down. "You ready?"
"I'm hungry," she admitted shyly as her stomach growled.
He chuckled. "Yes, that's exactly what I meant. I'm starting to think you only joined me for the food."
"You are very very correct." Her giggle lasted a few seconds, but ended when she felt her right temple begin to pulse. She closed her eyes, but maintained a weak smile as she leaned back against the headrest.
Richard stared at her, jerking back slightly when the car veered forward. He noticed how dry her face looked despite the light layer of makeup, and he knew that it could have been due to their early flight. But he also suspected her shenanigans late last night to be the main culprit.
"Still hungover?" he asked.
Her mouth watered from dehydration, and she had to swallow down bits of saliva every now and then to forget about how much vomit she had deposited into the airport loo hours before. She nodded and fluttered her eyelids open.
"It is one thing to be hungover, and it's another thing to be hungover, hungry, and jet lagged."
"You can't possibly be jet lagged," Richard argued. "It wasn't even a two-hour flight."
She frowned, then pouted. Mia batted her lashes at him in dramatics, trying express how helpless she felt. "I'm hungry—"
"Don't be fussy, Amelia."
Richard put on a dark pair of aviator sunglasses when he teasingly warned her, allowing the filter to relax his vision. Mia looked at his kilt one more time, noticing the garment shake as they maneuvered through steep bumps on the road. She pinched the fabric and rubbed it between her thumb and index finger.
"Classic. I've seen this before," she commented. "Ain't this your dad's tartan?"
"We wear the same one, don't you remember?"
"No."
Richard switched into a playful tone. He shrugged his shoulders and tilted his head as he said, "Goodness, just because I don't have a family tartan. I guess it doesn't make mine memorable."
"Hush," Mia responded with a hefty exhale. It ended in a short laugh. "That isn't my fault. I've already told you plenty of times to try and register one. Mine goes back centuries."
"Maybe when we—" He felt a tickle in his throat and coughed it off. There was something he wanted to suggest, but didn't dare bring up or say aloud. He continued, "When I start my own family."
Richard hoped Mia wouldn't notice, but she did. She had been noticing his inklings more than usual, and she didn't want to blame it on the kiss from the photoshoot. However, she couldn't help it; deep inside, she pointed fingers at it furiously—at the event that unexpectedly turned her personal life into a snake pit.
Mia kept silent. She brought her cream-colored clutch bag onto her lap and played with the buckle, letting the faux gold dent into the leather.
She succumbed to the depths of her thoughts and dwelled on how much the Maddens had already been family to her. Recalling her childhood, Mia could never forget the few weeks that had led up to her seventh birthday: her father had to remind her that Richard was not her cousin, nor a relative of any kind. It baffled her then, when her cognition was not yet fully equipped to process that the boy who lived on her street wasn't of her kin; that no one in the neighborhood was.
If that instance had been weird to her as a child, then what was weird to her now as an adult was imagining it all to be true: Richard being her cousin. Of lineage, of blood. She had been in love with him and he in love with her. An enormous what if? Unacceptable in most societies, but a norm to some; and to Mia, it was the kind of affair she only knew from the likes of royalty.
She smiled to herself, acknowledging her silliness.
Richard didn't know why her face lit up, but he wished that it was because she was happy. Happy to be in his accompany, and happy to be back on home soil, even if it was just for the weekend.
"I think this is it," he said, pointing out the window. "I believe it's owned by Rose's clan, Kit mentioned."
Mia turned to him and leaned forward to grasp a better view from his angle. Her jaw almost dropped at the sight of the castle that grew nearer every second. She placed her hand on Richard's shoulder, the other on his wrist. She squeezed them.
"Breathtaking," she whispered. "Out of a fairytale."
Richard smirked. "So, that family tartan of yours. You were saying?"
Mia was at a loss for words. "Never-fucking-mind."
—•—•—
The music was blaring so loudly that both Richard and Mia knew that deafness was on the horizon. Yet they didn't care. Drinks in hand, they danced throughout the evening, cheering on the band after every set and eating everything the servers offered them on lavish platters.
Diets simply did not exist.
The amount of fun Mia was having allowed her to forget what the week had become. She ended up slipping out of her uncomfortable heels and trotting onto the grassy plain next to the dance floor, an area that housed other onlookers seeking to relieve their soles.
Mia glanced back and waved at Richard who had carelessly taken off his Prince Charlie jacket, leaving on the back of a chair... somewhere. He actually couldn't remember where.
"Where are you going!" he yelled from the crowd.
She laughed at how he forced himself to dance. He wasn't open to it, but he certainly wasn't bad at it either. Richard had a sackful of impressive moves that he was supposedly "too cool" to reveal, but throughout the years, Mia had seen them all.
"To wander!" she shouted back. She noticed the silver pouch on his waist hang loosely at the side of his kilt, and not at the center. It made her lips purse together in disapproval. "Fix your sporran!"
"What!"
She stopped walking for a moment to turn her body toward him. She placed her hands on the sides of her mouth to repeat, "Fix your sporran!"
"Right!" Richard went to the nearest table and picked up a glimmering piece of silverware. He presented it to her. "Fork and soup's on!"
She rolled her eyes at him with a laugh. She would soon forget about it later, and so would Richard.
Mia continued her stroll along the property, careful not to bend any trespassing rules. She loved the way the ground felt beneath her toes, tickles of nature's dew keeping her spirits high and uplifted. For a moment, it didn't seem real. Someone must have casted a spell on her, and she luxuriated in it.
"Mia! Mia girl!"
She snapped her head toward the cheery voice. In the distance were three silhouettes in front of a stoned fence that led to the garden. It was dark out, but Mia wasn't afraid to approach them. From the wind in their skirts, she deduced that they were there for the celebration, for their friends, and something else.
They were there for their co-stars.
"What were you doing alone over there?" Emilia Clarke asked as she wrapped her pink coat around her shoulders. "The night's cold now!"
"Is it?" Mia raised an eyebrow and smiled. She twirled her skirt around delightfully. "I think the weather's lovely."
Maisie Williams giggled into the palm of her hand. "I think that's the bubbly talking, Mia."
"Probably more than just bubbly," Sophie Turner chimed.
Mia blushed. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. Her eyes returned to where ferry lights hung and where the action roared. She searched the scene for Richard.
Emilia followed. Her cheeks rose highly as she grinned in admiration, knowing exactly whom her new acquaintance had entered the church with hours ago. She even watched them leave together in the same car. It didn't take her very long to realize that the Mia she had met that day was the same one she had heard about years ago.
Her curiosity was sparked, and a subtle question had to be raised.
"If I may ask," Emilia began. "How is it like?"
Maisie and Sophie anticipated Mia's answer as they sipped on their drinks. They noticed how Mia's stance went from loose to rigid, but the writer remained calm.
"I'm sorry. How is what like?" she responded.
"Oh, don't be that way. I've always known there was something." Emilia winked.
She grabbed Mia's hand and led her away, back toward the dance floor while Maisie and Sophie trailed behind them. The best friends whispered short stories to each other that mirrored the next bit Emilia had to say.
"I didn't have many scenes with Richard—" Emilia paused and realized a detail she had missed. "Nor Kit, actually. Well, in the early seasons, that is. But anyway, our dinners and parties were definitely something else."
Mia liked how soft Emilia's coat felt when she linked her arm around hers. They made their way back slowly, in absolutely no rush to be met with disruptions. Emilia wanted the conversation to continue as long as possible, not to intrude on Mia's personal life, but to indulge in a little fun chat. Besides, Emilia was a sucker for a good love story, and attending a wedding only enhanced it.
"Full of banter. Of course, Sophie and Maisie were a bit too young back then to join us for beer, but they had their shares later on. It was always a bit chaotic, always loud. I mean, Richard wasn't always loud," Emilia said with a laugh. "But he talked about you a lot and it was funny because, as you know..." She glanced over her shoulder and gestured for Sophie to contribute.
Sophie finished, "We didn't really know who he was talking about. We only knew a name."
"Yeah!" Maisie exclaimed as she recalled an instance. "But I've seen you before in his trailer. Pictures, of course."
Mia's eyes widened in surprise. "Really?"
"Oh, his mirror was full of them," Emilia said. "So, how did he ask?"
"Ask what?"
Emilia laughed again. "Ask you to be his girlfriend! How did he ask? When I saw you two arrive together I just knew. Finally!" she cheered.
"I—oh. Oh, I," Mia stuttered, pulling her arm away smoothly. She frowned at Emilia, which casted dismay on Maisie and Sophie as well.
They had made a terrible, terrible guess.
"I'm not Richard's girlfriend," she revealed. "We're not even dating, I'm afraid. So..." Mia bit on her bottom lip. "So, yeah. I, well, we get that often. Too often, if I'm honest."
Emilia's heart practically sank into her chest. Her glee washed away. It's as if her pink ensemble had turned gray.
"I apologize, Mia. I just thought—wow. No, my god. I am so embarrassed," Emilia admitted. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions."
Maisie and Sophie offered their apologies as well, and Mia wholeheartedly accepted them.
"I thought Kit said—" Maisie was cut short by a forceful nudge from Sophie. She took it back. "I mean, never mind."
Mia smiled at all three of them reassuringly. "It's nothing."
"Again, so so sorry," Emilia uttered on. She couldn't let go of her guilt. "How silly of us. I mean, we—"
But she couldn't explain herself further.
"Why isn't it Amelia with an A and Emilia with an E!" Richard sang as he appeared behind them with a tray of sinful glasses. His shirt was unbuttoned a bit now, his chest hair exposed slightly. He handed a drink to Mia first. "For m'lady in green who is absolutely, positively bonnie this evening."
"Richard..." Mia looked at him oddly as she tried to take the tray away.
She was careful not to spill the alcohol he had given her, but the contents were at maximum. The liquid ran down to her wrists, wetting her gold bracelet. If she didn't dry it soon, the metal would become sticky and possibly damaged.
"Richard, please put that down. You'll break something," she warned.
"Not your little heart, I promise!"
He threw his head back in laughter, which nearly tipped off that glasses that were sliding toward the platter's edge. Maisie and Sophie were quick to catch them and take the arrangement away. They walked back to the refreshments table.
"Thank you, loves. Was quite heavy for some reason." Richard turned to Emilia. "You're blonde again!"
"As I have been for some time now," she replied. She took him by the shoulders and led him to the nearest chair.
Mia kept her eye on them, but rushed to the bar next to where the band played. She forgot to excuse herself, but Emilia caught on and knew that Mia would be back shortly after.
"Water, please. In the biggest mug you have if that's possible," Mia told the bartender. He nodded briefly before preparing it.
She leaned against the counter and tried not to look stressed. She didn't want Richard to embarrass himself or cause any trouble, and she felt a sense of responsibility for coming along with him. She had never been on the original guest list anyway.
"Mia?"
It was not the time nor place for tomfoolery...
"Mia!"
... or for unexpected encounters.
The bartender handed her the mug to which a napkin followed. Mia thanked him and turned around. Her vision was horrible between the darkness and the minimal lighting, which made her miss the man who had been standing behind her, dressed in all-black.
Their bodies collided, and the mug of water spilled on both of them, leaving only a mere sip left for Richard.
Mia gasped. "I'm so sorry!" She quickly took the napkin and patted the breast of his suit. "Sorry! Oh my. Sorry, sorry!"
"Mia," the man said with a chuckle. He took the damp napkin from her and stepped back for better light. "My dear, you are still so clumsy."
Her eyes squinted as her pupils adjusted. Then, she drew out the dirty blonde hair that was long beyond the top of the man's ear. The chiseled jaw, the pointed nose, and the eyes; she couldn't see them, but she knew that he had gray eyes casted by his bit of smoulder. He also towered over her, by many inches.
She initially thought he wasn't real.
"Mav?" she breathed.
He nodded contently with a large smile, the whiteness of his teeth noticeable in the twilight. He brought her in for a hug.
Wrapping her arms around him, Mia squeezed his torso in the merriest way possible. It wasn't because she was bored that her mood had improved so drastically. She just didn't really know anyone else other than Richard, but now she had another comrade to mingle with.
"Oh my word. I haven't seen you since... I don't know when!" she babbled, pulling away to get a good look at him. She set the mug down on the bar counter. "It's been decade, I suppose."
"Nine years, but you're close." He raised his hand at the bartender and asked for a drink. "I saw you earlier, but I wasn't sure if it was really you. I mean, are you with the bride or the groom?"
He took a seat on a stool. Mia sat next to him and grabbed more napkins out of a plastic dispenser at the end of the table. She left some in front of her old friend before wiping the neckline of her dress.
"Neither, actually." She laughed nervously, with a hint of excitement. She actually just couldn't wait to catch up with him. "I'm here with Richard. Oh!" she exclaimed, an epiphany drawn. "You know Richard, right? My old roommate?"
Mav wiped the rim of his beer bottle before taking a sip. He nodded confidently, saying, "Dickie Madden? Of course! I think he hated me, though."
"He didn't!" She eventually gave up on drying her outfit and placed the used napkins to the side. Resting her head in her hand as her elbow perched on the table, Mia relaxed and gave him her full attention. "Anyway, Richard's with the bride and the groom. I just came as a plus-one. How about you? What on earth are you doing here, of all places?"
He was clean-shaven, bare. The waves of his hair were no match for its length, but that only gave his formal attire a pinch of casualness, and Mia remembered him that way: laid-back and easygoing. Her exact opposite.
"See, you've forgotten already!" he teased. "My mum's from around here. Her family has known Rose's for a very long time. My sister's a bridesmaid, actually."
"Yeah? No wonder one of them looked familiar."
"You were at the ceremony? That's interesting." He took another sip. "You said you're a date, yeah?"
"I know," Mia said. "I'm breaking all the rules, aren't I? Probably should have just been on the B-list."
He shrugged his shoulders. "You're not causing any trouble. Drink?" He raised the bottle at her.
She politely declined. "No, thank you. I'm trying to keep it light. So, what have you been up to lately? Still at the family business?"
"Unfortunately, yes." He sighed. "You know how it is."
"Even after uni? I thought you were going to pursue psychology after that class we took together."
"Come on now, Mia. You know how my father is."
Mia nodded understandingly. She remembered her former classmate always on the phone with his parents, arguing over what supplier to see and which client to visit. But construction just wasn't Mav's favorite subject.
"You, on the other hand," he began, "Are surely making a name for yourself. I read that feature about Elderslie. You couldn't have been more passionate with that one."
"Thank you." Mia lowered her chin and blushed. She tucked her hair behind her ears and added, "But I don't do that anymore. I work in the London office now."
"That so? And when are we going to see a book come along?"
"Ehm, not any time soon."
"Well, I look forward to it, regardless."
Mav asked for another beer. His leg shook as it rested on the foot stool, and Mia couldn't help but stare at his polished shoes that were just as clean as the record he had: a respected family, a degree with high honours, and a list of other personal achievements that went on impressively.
He made an offer again. "Are you sure you don't want a drink? That's not how I remember you. Or are you gonna head back to Richard?"
Mia's gaze broke away from him as she looked at the drink in his hand, then at her sticky, gold bracelet, then at Richard, who was still with Emilia. They were deep in conversation, and timely enough, Kit joined them in their chat.
This time, Mia accepted.
"I think Richard can wait."
—•—•—
Wait? Not for the next chapter. Continue on and brace yourselves, notif gang! —>