After a few minutes, Jax cleared his throat.
“So,” he said, voice lighter but still careful. “If we did this… how do we explain the sudden couple thing? We met once on a grid, talked for five minutes, then dinner in Mexico. Bit fast for soulmates, even by celebrity standards.”
She exhaled, grateful for the shift back to practical ground. “We don’t explain. We let people assume. A few strategic photos, some vague captions—‘good company in Mexico City’ or something innocuous. Fans will fill in the blanks. They already are.”
He nodded slowly. “And when it ends?”
“Mutual statement. ‘We remain friends, grateful for the time we shared, but our paths are taking us in different directions.’ Clean. Respectful. No drama.”
Another long pause. He set his fork down, leaned forward again.
“You’re really serious about this.”
“I am.” She met his eyes. “I know it sounds insane. But right now, insane is better than nothing.”
Jax looked at her—really looked. The candlelight caught the green in his eyes, made them sharper.
“You’re not wrong about the optics,” he said quietly. “Claire’s been on my arse about it. The owners too. But this…” He gestured between them. “This is next-level. You sure you want totie yourself to me—even fake—for months? I’m not exactly low-maintenance.”
She gave a small, wry smile. “I’m not exactly low-drama either. We’re both walking liabilities. Might as well make it useful.”
He huffed a quiet laugh—the first real one since the proposal. “Fair.”
The silence returned, softer this time. Not hostile. Just… heavy.
Jax picked up his glass, swirled the last of the mezcal. “You really think your ex will come running back if he sees us together?”
“I think jealousy is a powerful thing,” she said. “And right now, it’s the only thing I have left to throw at him.”
Jax nodded once, slow.
“I’ll think about it,” he said again. “Properly. No jokes this time.”
She nodded. “Take your time.”
They finished the meal mostly in quiet—occasional small talk about the food, the city, nothing deep. When the bill came, Jax reached for it without hesitation.
“I’ve got this,” he said. “Business expense.”
She didn’t argue.
Outside, the warm night air wrapped around them. A single paparazzi flash popped from across the street—quick, professional. One clean shot: them side by side, her small frame next to his broad shoulders, both smiling politely as they waited for their cars.
As their drivers pulled up, Jax turned to her.
“Wait,” he said quietly. He pulled out his phone. “Give me your number. If I decide yes—or even if I decide no—I’ll text you directly. No managers, no agents. Just us.”
She hesitated for half a second, then nodded. She recited the digits; he typed them in quickly, saved the contact with a simple “Aria,” and sent her a quick test message so she’d have his too.
Her phone buzzed in her clutch.
“Done,” he said, pocketing his phone. “You’ll hear from me.”
She offered a small smile—still guarded, but softer. “Thank you. For hearing me out. And for not laughing me out of the restaurant.”
He gave her that easy grin again, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “Night, Aria.”
“Night, Jax.”
