Shaking hands reached for a solitary sheet of paper, propped up on the dresser. Drawing in a fearful breath, sad and teary eyes read over the familiar beautifully cursive script.

** 

Amore mio, 

Goodbye. I know you don’t understand, but maybe one day you can forgive me and see that I did this for you. Thank you for everything you did for me, I’ll never forget your selflessness. And because you deserve to live, I leave. 

Today, the skies are cloud ridden. Tomorrow, the sun will shine. 

Tomorrow, our tears will be left behind. Ti Amore. And, this will light my path, and one day, I’ll be back. Like a bird to its nest, I’ll be back to stay. I’ll be back for that peace that you bring me. I’ll return to your arms, the stars will shine, and our love will be reborn if you will have me. 

Mila, 20 giugno 2004

*per favore ricordarmi* 

** 

Weak knees struggled to keep him upright. Collapsing beneath his weight, he sunk to the floor in the center of the bedroom. 

“Why?” his voice shook, sobs choking him.

Los Angeles, CA – June 16, 2003 

“Ready for the last one, Mila?” a sweat-drenched Justin shouted as his assistant patted him dry with a towel. It was the end of the first LA show of his tour, and he was ready to party. 

“Yeah…mhmm, let’s do this,” she panted, her hand at her heart. Managing a small smile, she rushed past him and onto the stage for the encore. Justin’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t have time to ponder. The last of his nine dancers rushed past him. He took a swig of water before rushing to join them onstage. 

“LOS ANGELES! LET ME HEAR YOU SCREAM!!!!” the Staples Center went crazy as he took his place center stage. Looking to his left, he caught her attention and she replied with a playful wink. But, something was off in her eyes. Her hand still lay across her chest, and he could see her breathing heavily. 

It’s the show he thought. They were only 2 weeks into the tour, so he was sure they were all still in the conditioning stage. 

“Just something about you…” he crooned. 

#### 

“Great show everyone! Good job! Let’s party!” excitement painted the backstage hallways as the dancers and musicians rushed through. Justin shook hands and laughed with random people, congratulating him on a good show. 

“Where’s Mila?” he asked Marty, his choreographer and dancer. Turning around to look for his friend through the small mass of people following him, he couldn’t see the full head of shining chocolate hair and fiery ember-hued eyes that usually greeted him coming off the stage. 

“I don’t know…” Marty replied, halting his steps. Both pushed up against the wall to allow the crowd to pass them. As the crowd cleared out, both men gasped before sprinting. 

“Mila! Mila!” they yelled, racing faster back down the hallway. Coming to a skidding halt, they tried to stand her straight. Her body was doubled over, her hand clutching at her chest and quiet squeaks escaping her lips. 

“Mila, babygirl, what’s wrong? Talk to me!” Justin frantically took her face in his hands and made her look at him. The fear in her eyes shook him to his core. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. It was like a fish gasping for water. 

“Shit, man, she can’t breathe!” Justin exclaimed. Marty rushed behind her to loosen her corset, unsuccessful, he pulled and tore the corset off. Mila gasped, eyes opened wide with Justin standing in front of her – waiting to see a reaction. 

“Help…” she gasped before her world went black, her body went limp, and she fell into Justin’s chest.

“Justin, maybe you should go and get some rest. You do have a show tomorrow,” his best friend and personal assistant, Trace said to him. Trace’s voice startled him out of his reverie. Four hours sitting in a private waiting room at Cedar-Sinai Medical Center, after having transported Mila here. 

“You really think I can go home and rest not knowing what happened. You didn’t see her man. She was turning blue in the face. Then, all she tells me is ‘help’ and I can’t even fucking help her because I don’t know what’s wrong!” Justin exclaimed, his patience wearing out. Jumping to his feet, he paced the small waiting room.  

Trace looked over at Marty, who sat on the opposite end of the room, pleading to help convince Justin. Marty shrugged, then sighed and looked up at Justin. 

“J, man, Trace has a …” he began but stopped, seeing a middle-aged man in a white coat enter the room. 

“Camila Grecco?” he spoke, his eyes lifting from the clipboard in his hands. 

“That’s us, sir,” Justin’s words jumbled together, rushing to stand in front of the doctor. 

“Family?” he asked with an inquisitive eyebrow raise.

“No sir, she has no family. He is her employer, and we’re her coworkers,” Trace quickly stepped in seeing Justin’s nostrils begin to flare. 

“Well, I’m sorry but we are only authorize to disclose patient information to immediate family,” the doctor regretfully informed them. 

“Doctor, um…Levi, my name is Marty Kudelka and I am listed as authorized individual for Miss Grecco. She has filed such paperwork here at the hospital,” Marty spoke, noting the doctor’s name on the white coat. Justin and Trace looked at him in surprise; this all came as news to them. 

“Well then, let me verify that and you said your name was Marty…” the doctor confirmed. 

“Yes sir, Marty Kudelka, K-U-D-E-L-K-A,” he repeated and waited for the doctor to return. 

“How the hell are you an ‘authorized’ party?” Trace disbelievingly asked. 

“We had to that when she broke her foot 2 years ago,” Marty explained before the doctor returned. 

“Alright, very well, I’ll begin with saying that Ms. Grecco is resting right now. She will need 7 to 10 days of extreme resting. After speaking to Miss Grecco and running several tests, the chest discomfort and lack of oxygen that she suffered is called angina. Now, angina occurs when the blood oxygen supply decreased to any area of the heart muscle. Symptoms includes pressure, heaviness, squeezing, and aching across the chest. Sometimes the pain will travel to the neck, jaw, arms, and back. Miss Grecco has expressed feeling most of these discomforts throughout the course of the day, along with weakness and shortness of breath,” Dr. Levi explained, folding his hands at his front. 

“I noticed her breathing heavily before the encore,” Justin mumbled, running a shaky hand over his buzzed hair. 

“It’s not something to blame yourself about, son. She assumed the symptoms were her becoming acclimated to touring again. I want to keep her overnight for observation, and she’ll be good to head home after lunch tomorrow. Now, she seems like a stubborn and independent young woman, so it’ll be a collective effort to get her to slow down,” Dr. Levi explained, silently pleading the three young men for their cooperation. 

“Most definitely, sir, but can she continue with the tour? Can she continue to dance?” Marty voiced the doubt that loomed over their heads. 

“Absolutely, but her body needs to rest before she can go back to a normal schedule. Her body seems to be running on low. If this didn’t bring her here, then exhaustion would have. In between shows, she needs to learn to relax and to rest her heart. I’ll be prescribing her some nitroglycerin tablets that help relax blood vessels and lowers her blood pressure. She’ll just need to keep a close eye on her heart, because we certainly don’t want it worsening, which it could,” Dr. Levi explained before giving them an opportunity to ask any questions. Afterwards, he gave them all a chance to go visit with her one at a time. 

“I don’t think it was the tour that did this to her,” Marty spoke quietly to Justin when he returned from visiting Mila and allowing Trace to go in there. 

“What do you mean?” Justin questioned, confusion etched across his features. 

“J, Mila is a professional. This isn’t her first tour, man. She’s not a newbie. She knows how to take care of herself. There has to be something else that’s bothering her, not letting her rest. I tried getting her to tell me, but she just clammed up,” Marty replied. Justin nodded his head, paying attention to every word coming from Marty’s mouth. 

“Hey J, you’re up…” Trace announced, walking in and taking a seat. Justin nodded and walked out into the hallway, trekked the short path to her room and gently knocked before pushing open the heavy oak door. 

“Why the long face, Cowboy?” a slightly accented soft voice greeted him, as well as a small, tender and comforting smile. 

“Some broad decided to scare me,” he replied nonchalantly, drawing a chair to her bedside. 

“I’m sorry, but I’m ok. Just need rest, must be the tour,” she quickly explained, her eyes darting away from his inquisitive midnight blue eyes. 

“Yeah, you do need rest. But, this isn’t your first rodeo, dollface. So, tell me, what’s going on?” he grabbed her hand, rubbing his thumb over her hand in an effort to provide some comfort. 

“Nothing is going on, J,” she replied, her voice as soft as a whisper. 

“Camila, palarmi,” he commanded her eyes to meet his. “Dirmi, per favore.” 

Her eyes met his, and swallowing back the knot in her throat, she parted her lips to speak. “I’m getting deported…”

It was like the world stopped turning. Justin’s face remained stoic and his hands stilled. Mila bit her bottom lip as it quivered, tears threatening to spill. One minute, two minutes, maybe it was ten minutes passed in silence. 

Then, Justin’s shoulders shook with laughter and he unsuccessfully tried to stifle his giggles. 

“Deported? Really, Mila? Do I look like an idiot?” he managed to speak, laughter threatening to take over his body again. Mila face remained expressionless. 

“Yes, Justin, deported. My visa’s been revoked, and they won’t tell me why. I think I may have simply overstayed my visit,” Mila calmly explained, silent tears now staining her still-pale face. Seeing her tears, Justin knew in the deep pit of his stomach that she spoke the truth. His laughter died in his throat, a knot formed and a sense of panic rose in his insides. 

“No, no, no…you can’t get deported. You can’t leave me here. I mean, you can’t leave your friends, your job, your house, and your dog,” Justin began to ramble; standing up, he paced the cold tile floors. Mila sighed from her place on the bed, a sense of déjà vu embracing her. This had been her reaction to the news as well. 

“I can be and I will be,” she sighed, turning her face away from him as more tears fell from her eyes. He’d never seen her cry in the nearly 3 years that they knew each other. 

“Hey, hey…we’ll figure this out. Fuck, I’ve never had to deal with immigration before. But, umm…let’s see. We’ve got to go see a lawyer and find out what we can do,” Justin ramblings didn’t fall on naïve ears. 

“I’ve done that. I’ve got two options: marry a US citizen that can adjust my status or leave the country and reapply for another visa, which can take anywhere from 1 year to 5 years,” Mila whispered, reaching a hand to grab his wrist. His movements stopped and his eyes dropped to meet her own.

“I’ve got to leave, Cowboy.” A sad smile and a weak shoulder shrug broke his heart. 

“Well, then I’ll come visit you in Italy while we wait. I planned on taking a break after this album anyway. I could use a vacation, plus I could find a studio somewhere and just mess around from time to time. You can show me where you grew up and I could learn more Italian,” Justin rambled, a soft hand reaching out to caress the top of her head. Instinctively, she leaned into his touch. 

“J, I’m not going back to Italy. I’ve got to go back to Libya, my home country,” Mila’s cold hand held tightly to his, resting peacefully on her stomach. 

“Libya?” he choked, his spirits vanishing in thin air. 

“Yeah, Libya, Africa. My entire family is Italian, living in Tuscany, but I was born and raised in Libya – Tripoli to be exact. Daddy worked there, so we lived there. I’ve got to go back October 30th,” she explained. 

“Well, then I’ll go to Libya,” Justin pouted, causing a small chuckle to escape Mila. 

“We, Libyans, would not welcome your dancing butt,” Mila tried to joke, but she knew it was true. Her country was very conservative, and someone of Justin’s stardom would not be nicely received. 

“Then, we’ll get married, and save ourselves flight fees,” he stated, sitting down on the edge of her bed with a definitive nod of his head. 

“Are you crazy? I am not marrying you!” Mila sat up, excitement causing her heart monitor to spike. 

“Hey! Relax! Jeez woman, would it be that bad?” Justin exclaimed, pushing her back to a laying position and hovering over her. 

“Justin, you’re mental! To marry under fall pretenses is a federal offense. Plus, we’re not even dating! How are we going to explain that one?” Mila took a deep breath, and slowly released it, hoping to calm her racing heart. 

Before Justin could respond, a nurse walked in and announced that he’d have to leave Mila to rest now. 

“Alright then, babygirl. I’ll come by in the morning to take you home. Have a good night and rest up! Love ya bunches,” he sweetly spoke to her, caressing her hair back with a warm hand before leaning down and gently pecking her lips. The startled look on her face made him chuckle. 

“We try to keep this private, but I like surprising her sometimes. Take care of my baby, Betty,” Justin charmed the middle-age nurse, reading the name on her nametag. A silent, dumbfounded nod was her response. 

“Fuck me, now I’m getting married. Shit, fucking hell…” he mumbled, having closed the door and walking back to the waiting room.

October 2003 – Memphis, TN 

“So, the INS guy, Marshall, said as long as we marry within the year of the engagement then we’re set,” Justin repeated what Trace was telling him over the phone, pacing the floor of his bedroom. Mila sat, cross-legged, in the center of his bed with her thumb in her mouth, nervously watching him pace. 

She was still very much against this wild idea of marrying Justin just to her legal status adjusted, but he wasn’t hearing any of it. Trace had been sent to the INS office in LA to file the paperwork need, and now, Justin and Mila were in Memphis to announce and celebrate their ‘engagement’. Only Trace and Marty knew the truth and they planned to keep it that way. Marty was like Mila’s family and Trace was Justin’s. 

Snapping out of her thoughts, Mila saw Justin toss his phone into his opened suitcase and turn to look at her. 

“So, are you ready for this?” Justin asked, inching his way over to her, kneeling at the edge of the bed and reaching for her. Mila scooted closer to him and held onto his hands. 

“No. I feel so bad, Justin. We’ve got to lie to your entire family, getting their hopes up and then shattering them in a year or two. That kills me because it’s all because of me,” Mila felt her emotions getting the best of her, choking her up. 

“Hey…look at me. You’ve got to calm down. Remember, no emotional stress. Just go with the flow, ok. Do you trust me?” he asked, turning her face to look at him. She simply nodded, breathing in deeply and trying to calm herself. She still occasionally suffered chest pains after a show, but she was learning to rest. 

“Then trust me with this, too. Mama’s always said that she’d love to have you as a daughter, so this works perfectly. We know each other backwards and forwards. We’re friends already, so it’s not too far-fetched,” he explained. “Just add the holding hands, kissing here and there, and voila!” 

“Cowboy, I wish it were that simple. It’s the immorality that torments me,” she said, causing Justin to chuckle slightly at her accent. 

“I forget you’re a good Catholic girl sometimes…” Justin kidded, patting her thigh and pushing up to an upright position. “Now go on, get dressed. We’ve got an engagement party to get to.” 

Mila sighed before unfolding her legs, and standing off the bed. She waltz towards the bathroom, where her party dress hung. Sighing, she quickly changed into the one-shouldered printed black and white maxi dress. Slipping on some black sandals and her black bangles, she stepped out of the bathroom. 

“Don’t you look pretty…” Justin commented, looking up from tying his shoelaces. Mila blushed slightly before moving towards him. Standing up, he adjusted his shirt and gave a small twirl, looking for her approval. 

“Well, I certainly didn’t expect a suit, but you clean up nicely,” she joked, reaching out to fix the collar of his navy blue button down shirt. 

“Hardy har har, Ms. Grecco,” he grinned before kissing her cheek. Taking hold of her hand, he led her out of the bedroom and downstairs, where he knew his mother was busy prepping the food. 

“Need any help Lynn?” Mila offered, coming to stand beside the blonde, curly-haired woman. It tugged at Mila’s heart to know that she would be soon deceiving such a generous and genuine individual. 

“Well, could you start taking some of the bowls and such outside? The guests should start arriving soon,” Lynn replied, smiling brightly before going back to chopping one thing or another. 

#### 

“So, J, what’s the occasion?” his cousin, Nick asked from across the backyard. It was his family present, and they’d all ate before scattering about the backyard. Justin turned from his conversation with his dad, Paul to face Nick, who sat by the pool. Before replying, Justin’s eyes searched for Mila. She was on the opposite side of Nick, sitting on the patio with his mother, aunt, and grandmother. Her eyes slammed into his, fearful and frantic. 

Rubbing his neck nervously, he chuckled before taking another swig of his beer. Looking around, he saw that all eyes were on him. It was now or never. 

“Well, I never have a break and I was in the neighborhood, so why not?” Justin jokingly responded. A few people chuckle, but for the most part, his bullshit was called. 

“No, really, what’s the occasion? Any other barbeque and your trifling ass wouldn’t have changed out your sweats,” Rachel, his other cousin, called out, drawing chuckles from the crowd. 

“Very funny, Rach. Hilarious, even. If you must know, there is a very special occasion for tonight. Mila, babygirl, can you come over here?” Justin called softly, beckoning her with his outstretched hand. Taking a deep breath, Mila stood on shaky legs and numbly walked towards him. Taking a tight hold of his hand, she allowed him to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her to his side. 

“Mila and I invited you here today to announce that…well, we’re umm…” Justin stumbled over his words, nervously looking down at Mila as her fingers dug into his side. 

“Is she knocked up?” Brett, his not-so-eloquent cousin, shouted out. 

“No, dipshit, but we’re engaged,” the last words came out in a hushed tone. But, everyone heard. Or so he safely assumed from the collective gasp that went around the backyard. 

“Surprise,” Mila whispered, her body tensing up awaiting the outrage to commence.

November 2003 – Los Angeles, CA 

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll keep her so busy that she won’t have time to miss you,” his mama’s heavy Southern drawl shattered his daydreams. Shaking his head free of cobwebs, he looked up to see his mama standing over him with a huge smile on her face. Looking to his right, he saw his ‘fiancee’ timidly smiling in response to Lynn’s excitement. 

“That’s what worries me, mama, she won’t miss me,” he tried his hand at a joke, and a soft chuckle responded. 

“Flight 2203, Los Angeles to Brussels is now boarding. Flight 2203 – now boarding,” came the announcement over the PA system. Lynn pulled him up into a hug and kiss before announcing that she’d give them time. 

“Justin, don’t leave me. I mean, how am I gonna keep this from your mama and grandma. Oh my, they’re going to kill us if they ever find out,” Mila’s composure broke as soon as Lynn walked away. 

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Justin commanded, pulling her to stand and making her eyes turn to his own. “I would take you with me, if I could. Keep in touch with Marshall, and he’ll let us know when you’re able to leave the country. The second that you can, you’re on a plane. Understand?” 

Nodding her head, Mila kept her tears at bay. 

“Don’t cry, please. You know I hate it when you cry. Mama’s gonna help plan everything, and we’ll keep it quiet. We’ll keep it small and quiet, deal?” Justin whispered, running his calloused thumbs under her eyes, catching falling tears. 

“I hate this, I really do. But, thank you,” Mila replied, her voice breaking. She lost any ounce of control left in her, falling into his arms sobs shaking her shoulders. 

“Oh babygirl, don’t cry,” he soothed, his arms wrapping securely around her. He saw his mama approaching them, and he knew that he needed to get going. Pulling her away, he smiled tenderly at the lost-child look on her face. 

“You take care of my mama and my dogs, ok?” he chuckled, knowing she’d have her hands full with his two Boxers – Buckley and Brennan – and her chocolate lab, Chipper. 

“Very funny, bastardo,” she chuckled through her tears. He laughed in return and placed a gentle kiss on her lips just as his mama stopped next to him. 

“You go and be safe, and don’t you worry about us,” she soothed, wrapping an arm around Mila’s shoulders. Justin nodded, kissing both of them on the forehead and grabbing his carryon before Mike followed him. Turning one last time, he kissed his fingers and waved before walking around the corner. 

“Let’s go hun, we have lots of chatting and planning to do,” Lynn announced pulling Mila out of the terminal, a defeated sigh escaping Mila’s lips. 

#### 

December 2003 – Memphis, TN 

“Where’s Mila?” Lynn asked, coming down the stairs and into the living room. 

“In the kitchen, Paul called and said that he was picking up Justin so she said she’d make him some food. But, I couldn’t begin to tell you what that child is cooking,” Sadie, Justin’s grandmother, replied, exasperated. Lynn stifled her amusement, and headed into the kitchen.

For the past month, Mila had been in Memphis. The longer she stayed, the more they learned about her. Sadie was not very convinced that she was fit for her grandbaby. 

“Mila, honey, what are you doing?” Lynn asked as she rounded the doorway into the kitchen. 

“Paul is bringing Justin, and I’m sure he’ll be hungry from the long flight. So, I’m making him some dinner,” she replied, looking into one of her steaming pots. Sidling up to her side, Lynn looked at the array of foods on the stove and she, too, was at a lost. 

“What exactly are you making?” Lynn cautiously questioned. 

“Couscous with chicken and vegetables,” Mila replied, absentmindedly. It’d been a very long nearly two months without Justin around to buffer her and his family. She was ready for him to get here and take the attention away. 

Justin doesn’t like couscous, Lynn thought, but kept her thoughts to herself. She saw Mila’s distraction and stress as excitement for Justin’s return. 

“Ma! Granny! Mila! I’m home!” came the boisterous announcement from the foyer. 

“Boy, you better learn to call your wife’s name first,” Sadie’s scold traveled into the kitchen. Mila sighed, while Lynn chuckled. In a flash, Justin stood in the doorway with Sadie and Paul standing behind him. 

Greeting his mother with a kiss and hug, he moved on to a hand-twirling Mila. 

“I’m home, babygirl,” he whispered, pulling her into a tight hug. He could feel all her stress and worries fall from her body as her arms wrapped tightly around him. He could feel her inhale him scent, deeply. Pulling away, he smiled at her and she smiled in return. 

“Welcome home, Cowboy,” she whispered before he kissed the corner of her mouth. 

“Watcha making?” he asked, pulling her to his side. “I’m starving.” 

“Couscous with chicken,” she replied, folding her arms at her chest. 

“Justin doesn’t like couscous,” Sadie announced, confusing lacing her words. Mila’s arms fell, defeated. Her saddened eyes turning up to meet Justin’s regretful ones. 

“Mama…” Lynn sighed. She’d hoped to avoid this. 

“What? He doesn’t. I think he deserves his favorite meal after flying God-knows-how-many hours,” Sadie ignorantly continued. Lynn shook her head, and Paul helped lead Sadie out of the kitchen. Justin stood quiet, not knowing what to say. He’d seen Mila’s intentions, and he knew she didn’t need this. She was at a breaking point. 

“Is that true?” her sad question broke his heart. 

“I’ve never tried Libyan couscous,” and a shrug of his shoulders.

“Cazzo mei” Mila muttered, frustrated fingers pulling at her hair as she shut the curtains to her apartment window. 

“Hey, hey, I know what that means,” Justin scolded, shaking a finger at her. Sticking her tongue out at him, Mila moved away from the window. 

“The crowd’s gotten bigger. How much longer til Mike gets here?” she asked, taking a seat on the couch. 

“A couple of minutes, are you all packed?” Justin asked, paying more attention to his pant leg than Mila’s frustration. There was an entire camp of reporters and photographers stationed outside her apartment building, just waiting for an opportunity to photograph her. 

“Yeah, my suitcase is downstairs already. I just have my carry-on and purse,” she replied, just as there was a sharp knock on the door, startling her. 

“Deep breaths, babygirl,” Justin chuckled, standing up, ruffling her hair, and opening the door. 

“Let’s go lovebirds. We’ve got a plane to catch,” Mike announced, heavily patting Justin’s back. Pulling his hoodie over his head, Justin hiked his backpack onto his shoulder. Mila followed, pulling her baseball cap low on her face. They rode the elevator down in silence, then took a deep breath before Mike and Lonnie opened the glass door that had until now separated them. 

“Justin! Justin! Who’s your girlfriend? Just one shot! Where you guys going?” the shouts made their ears ring. Justin’s grasp on Mila’s hand tightened as he felt the crowd shift closer to them. Mila’s hair and cap continued to shield her face, and she dared not to lift her head even a centimeter. Feeling a tug on her backpack, Mila’s left hand flew to the shoulder strap, inadvertently flashing the 3 carats, cushion cut, diamond engagement ring that decorated her delicate finger. 

“The ring! When’s the wedding? Are you pregnant? What about Cameron? Justin!” incredibly, the flashes increased, illuminating the day despite the noon sunlight. The clicks of cameras doubled. The shouting grew louder. The crowd became more aggressive. Pulling Mila close to him, Justin rounded her to walk in front of him. 

Safely climbing into the awaiting SUV, Mike sped out of the complex. Mila kept her head down, her hands covering her mouth. 

“What’s wrong?” Justin scooted over to the center seat, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He bent his head down to look at her face. The ring he’d put on her finger, after his family insisted on the whereabouts of it, shone on her delicate fingers. He had to give himself major props – it truly was a beautiful ring. 

“They saw my ring, J. At this precise second, the entire world is crying. Their king of pop is getting married. I think I just ruined your life, il mio dio,” her crispy, accented voice cracked. Fearful eyes shone with unshed tears. 

“You are not ruining my life…” Justin began, shaking his head. 

“But, this marriage is irreal,” Mila whispered, making sure Mike and Lonnie didn’t hear her. 

“Now, you hush, do you hear me? We promised to not talk about it. We made a promise, so hush. Now, this marriage is real, do you understand me?” Justin’s voice thickened with sternness. His long fingers grasped her chin and held her face steady. She tried, unsuccessfully, to read his azure eyes. There was something in there that she didn’t recognize. Swallowing back her sob, she silently nodded her head. 

“Good,” Justin spoke before crashing his lips firmly against her own, gently massaging her bottom lip and taking all her worries away. In the past couple of months, the media had gotten wind of their new “romance”. Mila had been granted a special visa that allowed her to enter and leave the country for work-related matters until their wedding date and subsequent legal status adjustment. 

His camp hadn’t been too thrill when they found out of the secret romance that no one had been aware of. They were even more upset about the quick engagement. If a romance had come out of left field for all their friends and family, then their engagement had caused a minor uproar. 

The only good thing about all this media hysteria was that in the past six months, no photographer had been able to catch a decent shot of Mila’s face. And miraculously, all those working on the tour had not rat them out. So, the media still had no name and no face for Justin Timberlake’s latest love conquest. 

“We’re here,” Mike announced, pulling them from their intense liplock. The SUV had been pulled up to the private jet that would be transporting them to Australia – location of his last leg of the tour and their secret nuptials. His family was flying out from Memphis, and he and Mila, along with Marty and Trace were flying out this very moment. 

“You ready?” Marty asked, as they all settled into their seats, buckled their belts, and felt the jet begin its ascent. Justin and Mila looked at one another, stress clouding embers and excitement shining in sapphires. 

“I still cannot believe you’re doing all this. I could just go back and reapply for a visa. I’ll be back in one year at the least,” Mila sighed, rubbing her forehead. She could feel a headache coming on. The weight of Justin’s selflessness proved heavy on her shoulders and her mind. Sometimes she’d catch herself and scold herself, because any woman would be lucky to marry such a great man. But, not under false pretenses. And certainly not forcing this man. 

This was a man that’d been burned by so many ruthless women in his past. A man jaded by the trials of love. A man that still believed in the truest and purest form of love – unselfish and unafraid. Friendship. 

He was sacrificing his bachelorhood for a friend. And, he was doing it with the grace of a friend lending a hand to a stumbling friend. 

“Well believe it babygirl, because I don’t get into a suit for just anybody,” he kidded, his warm hand patting before grasping her hand, resting it on his lap. Turning her head to look out the plane’s window, she allowed a fear silent tears to escape her orbs. 

He truly was a great man. A man that did not deserve this form of injustice. She could deal with going back home. Maybe she could an interim visa to Italy while her American visa was processed. Tripoli held nothing for her. Her father, the only other real man she’d ever met, was gone – taken too early from her life. Taken away from her by her mother’s selfishness. 

Shaking her head clear of sadder thoughts, she snuck a peak at the sparkler on her finger, intertwined with her own. These past months had opened her eyes to so many things. Things like buried feelings that she didn’t know she possessed for him. Things like the size of his heart that never ceased giving. 

In the deepest of her thoughts, she believed that maybe one day he could grow to love her and they wouldn’t divorce. Their marriage would continue, but that was all foolish thinking. He was at the pentacle of his career – he needed time to grow, time to learn himself, and time to fall in love with a pretty girl-next-door. 

Lost in her thoughts, she lost track of time. That was until his sleeping head fell onto her shoulder. Simple moments like now added to her anguish. It was all pretend. All pretend to save her. To keep his friend near. 

A small, yet sharp pain shot through her chest – notifying her that she needed to relax. 

This’ll be the death of me, she thought. Heaving a deep sigh, she squeezed his hand gently and settled her head atop his. If only for now, she would be his thanks to him.

The stage was set for a wedding set for a king and his soon-to-be queen. The setting was an opulent estate in the northwestern corner of a magical country. Villa Botanica sat on the edge of the tropical Coral Sea, keeping guard of Pioneer Bay – the gateway to the Great Barrier Reef. 

Using the groom’s name and the groom’s money had a spectacular way of opening the doors to Australia’s most exclusive estate. Somehow Rachel had been able to secure the venue, and the organizers had been lovely. The wedding was one day away and not a soul had caught wind of what was about to occur. The world’s most eligible bachelor was mere hours away from shattering millions of hearts around the world. 

Dressed in a flowing coral summer dress, Mila walked aimlessly around the grounds. Tears brim her ember orbs, threatening to spill at any given moment. Her heart, cracking with each step, hurt. The day was sunny and warm, yet a chill rocked her body. Wrapping numb arms around herself, she continued to get lost in her thoughts. The guilt she carried for nearly a year now had left its mark. Incredible make-up covered frightening dark circles and bags around her eyes. The scale bitterly reminded her of the weight loss. 

She’d tried on numerous occasions to dissuade Justin, but he’d stuck to his guns. Nausea greeted her every time she spoke to Lynn about something wedding-related. Poor Lynn, her heart was so set on this wedding. Hell, Mila’s heart was set on this wedding. Somewhere along the way, she’d come to embrace the idea and long for it. But, guilt ate away any joy she could feel. 

She couldn’t bring herself to enjoy herself in paradise. A garden that held a surprise at every corner. She’d already passed a tinkling pond, hard-carved statues, and every waterview of the aqua Coral Sea left her stunned. Her mind could not wrap around the fact that she would be marrying her best friend in Australian in about 2 hours. 

The venue organizers had assured them that no one would find out of the wedding, and Justin was paying an unimaginable sum to keep them quiet. The sprawling five acres of Villa Botanica housed a private beach and lush rainforests. Yesterday, Lynn and Sadie had been at the forefront of the wedding excitement. They’d insisted on Justin and Mila taking ‘engagement’ photographs on the grounds, and seeing the end results had broken Mila’s last reserve. She’d broken down in the privacy of her bedroom and cried. And she cried all afternoon. 

And she packed her clothes. She’d been prepared to walk out of her suite and call the wedding off. She couldn’t go through with it, but then Justin had walked in. He never noticed her packed luggage. He simply grabbed her hand and pulled her away from her sorrows. To where? To a romantic dinner date on the main pier, extending into the Coral Sea. A lone table for two had been set. 

And just like that, she admitted to herself that she was in love. Sitting across from this beautiful man as the sun slowly disappeared beneath the water’s edge. The oranges, reds, and yellows of the last flickering sunrays danced across both of their sun-kissed faces. The water’s crystalline hue reflected in his aqua eyes, sparkling and twinkling. The red wine colored his pouty lips with a soft rosy hue. 

“Can you believe we’ll marry tomorrow?” he’d softly spoken as they moved from the table and walked further down the small pier. The lights from the estate lit the water’s surface. 

“No, this is so wrong,” Mila replied, pulling her hand from his grasp and dropping it to her side. 

“Mila, I really wish you wouldn’t be this way. Is it really so bad to marry me?” the sadness in his voice had almost made her change her mind. 

“That’s just it, Cowboy. Any woman would be the luckiest to marry you, but not like this. Not as a favor. Not as a lie. Not as a ‘friend-helping-a-friend’. And certainly not without love,” Mila replied, her eyes begging for him to understand and call it off. It would hurt so much less if he would be the one to call it off. 

“Mila, babygirl, you know my thoughts on marriage. And you should know that there would is no one else in existence that I would be doing this for or with. We’re not stupid and we’re certainly not blind. There’s something here that goes beyond friendship that we’ll figure out together. But, we can’t do that with you gone,” he explained, making so much sense and yet confusing her more. 

“I think it’s getting late. We have a busy day tomorrow,” she’d said before twisting around and leading the way back down the pier and towards the stone pathway that cut through the lush gardens and into the house. They walked, silently, into the house, past antique furnishings, open fireplaces, sweeping verandas, and glass windows overlooking the sea and gardens. 

A silent kiss on her temple sent her to bed, chasing a false hope of getting any sleep. He had family all over the estate, but she’d managed to find some peace in an alcove she’d found a couple of days ago. The ceremony was to begin promptly at 2pm, and it was now ten am. She was sure that by now he’d found her letter.  

Her heart was shattered, and she knew she was breaking his. All night she’d fought the demons, the temptation to leave in the middle of the night like a bandit. Her heart had won once more, knowing she could never break his heart. And, she could never let him go through this embarrassment. So, she’d stayed. 

Then, this morning her dress had been delivered – steamed and hemmed. Hanging on her closet door ready to be worn, and she’d freaked. She’d quickly grabbed her only bag, secretly delivered the letter she’d prepared last night, and successfully snuck away. But, now, hidden away in this alcove, she could not stay strong any longer. She didn’t want to think of him and his reaction. 

“Oh god…” she sobbed, burying her face in her hands. Her body collapsed onto a nearby boulder. Her right hand gripping at her chest as a pain shot through it. Her breath quickly leaving her lungs. Her body gasping for a simple breath. Frantic eyes searched for any one that could help her. Feeling in her extremities was quickly disappearing. No, please, no. 

## Justin ## 

Weak knees struggled to keep him upright. Collapsing beneath his weight, he sunk to the floor in the center of the bedroom. 

“Why?” his voice shook, sobs choking him.  

All his surroundings blurred, and his being overcome with sadness. He never thought he’d be left at the altar. Hell, he’d never thought he’d be getting married to begin with. The unsuccessful marriage between his mother and father and his failed relationships had erased any desire to join his life to any other being. 

But, then, Mila and all this hoopla had occurred. In the blink of an eye, his every belief had been turned on its head. He was a believer. 

It may have started as a simple, yet not so simple, favor. But, it’d become so much more. It’d become a dream, a desire, and a need. 

“Justin, get up. My goodness boy, this is the best thing that she could’ve done for you,” the shaky, yet firm voice of his grandmother filled his ears. Lifting his tear-stained eyes, he saw her standing in the doorway. Her eyebrows high on her forehead and her wrinkling hands sitting on her hips. 

“Granny, please…” he began, shaking his head and finding the strength to get to his feet. 

“Oh please nothing, boy. She knows she doesn’t belong in your world. She’s a world away from you, baby. How can she ever come home with you and know what to do? I told your mother from the beginning that this was a bad idea. She’s not what you need, baby,” she spoke, hands flailing and eyes widening. 

“Granny, with all due respect, please stay out of this. You never gave her a chance. She tried, and you didn’t. You don’t know a thing about her. But, I do. I know that we’re from different worlds, but guess what? She’s become my world and my home. And, I can’t lose my world…” It was like a spark set him off because he was off. Running out of the room in his tux, dress shoes pounding on the stone-lined floors of the outdoor porches. 

“Trace! Trace!” he yelled, seeing his best man walking up ahead. Trace stopped. 

“Where’s the fire? Aren’t you getting married in like twenty?” he asked, confused. 

“She left, and I’ve got to go find her. Come on, I’ll explain,” Justin hurriedly said, pulling Trace towards the front of the house. 

“She left?!?! Where to?” Trace exclaimed, alarmed. 

“All she left was a letter, but I know Mila. She’s going to sacrifice herself and go home. She’s given up on me and she’d gonna give up her visa,” Justin began to get frantic. Rushing through the large wooden front doors, he led the way down the grand staircase leading down to the cars. 

“Uhh…J, bro, I don’t think she left…” Trace’s voice floated from far away. Stopping on the second-to-last step, Justin turned back to see Trace still standing at the doors but facing away from him. 

“What do you mean? She said in her letter that she was leaving and I can’t waste…” his words trailed off as his head turned towards where Trace pointed. 

“Mila…” he breathed, seeing her standing there in all her glory. A chiffon sweetheart strapless a-line skirt white dress hung from her beautifully tanned frame. A rouched bodice with crystal detailing accentuated her bosom, and a chapel train elongated her slender body. 

“Forgive me for I am a coward” she spoke, a sad smile on her face and tears threatening to spill. “I thought that by leaving I would be doing more good than harm. I didn’t want to strap you down, and I didn’t want you doing me a favor. I wanted you to want to marry me, to want to love me, to love me. To be in love with me the same way that I am completely in love with you. And, your selflessness brought on my own selfishness. I didn’t think of your feelings, only the guilt that I felt. And I am so sorry for not telling you this to your face. Instead, writing a silly and pathetic letter.” 

Silence followed. He didn’t know what to do and he didn’t know what to think. Stupidly, he thought he would’ve had time to think of what he’d say while he looked for her. Instead, she’d come back and he was speechless. Taking a deep breath, he willed his feet, now heavy with nerves, to carry him to where she stood about twenty feet away. He assumed she’d emerged from another exit. 

“It’s bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony.” 

Leave it to him to allow his humor to ease the tension. Her sad smile turned hopeful, but the fear remained in her eyes. Taking hold of her delicate face in his hands, he smiled. 

“Stupid girl, I am so in love with you,” he proclaimed, collapsing his lips to her trembling mouth. A river of salty tears added flavor to the already intoxicating kiss. 

“I’m so sorry, so so sorry,” she expressed at every available break for air. Wrapping his firm arms around her small body, he kept her from ever escaping again. 

“I’ll only forgive you if you marry me,” he offered, wiping her tears away, attempting to save her make-up. 

“I’ll marry you every day then,” she sighed, falling comfortably into his kiss once more. 

“Just once, babygirl. Just once, and I’m the happiest man ever,” he reassured her, his hands holding onto her neck, below her sideways hairdo that housed a delicate flower behind her ear. To him, she was the most beautiful ever. And soon, she would be his wife.