“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.
