Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband? novel Chapter 494

“Mila, I know your last marriage was rough. You’re scared, I get that. But you can’t let those shadows haunt you forever. Guys like that are rare, you’ve already gotten rid of him—what’s left to be afraid of?”

Jade sighed. “You always run from this stuff. You shut down every bit of hope I have for you, and it worries me.”

“Jade…” Mila’s voice wavered, eyes growing red.

“I’m not trying to force you.” Jade’s tone softened. “I know these things take time. I’m not saying you should rush into marriage the moment you meet someone. That would be crazy. But you keep dodging this, and if I don’t push you a little, you’ll just keep running away from it.”

“…I understand.”

“Do you really?” Jade’s voice shot up. “You just turned down another one for me today. If this keeps up, when will it ever end? Here’s what: you come home for a visit, and this time, I’ll supervise your date myself!”

She was convinced Mila hadn’t taken any of these setups seriously.

She was going to make sure, for once.

Mila could only sigh helplessly.

She did want to go home—it’d been a while since she’d seen Jade, and she missed her. But going home for a blind date?

Suddenly, an image of someone flashed through her mind. She shook her head quickly, trying to banish it.

“What’s this? The moment I mention a date, you don’t even want to come home anymore?” Jade picked up immediately on her silence, her voice rising with dramatic flair.

“No, that’s not it…” Mila replied, exasperated.

“I’ll come home, I will. But as for the blind date… let’s talk about it when I get there. Jade, it’s late now—you should get some rest.”

It took some effort, but she finally convinced her indignant aunt to go to bed. Mila wasted no time booking a flight to London for the morning two days later.

She really didn’t want another setup.

But she wanted Jade to stop worrying even more.

—

The next evening.

The city’s night scene was in full swing. A tangerine Bentley Continental pulled up in front of a restaurant, its windows aglow. Mila stepped out, dressed in a crisp white Chanel dress that flared just below her knees, a ring of pink-and-white silk roses cinching her waist. On her wrist, she wore a matching jeweled bracelet, and a string of creamy Australian pearls gleamed at her throat.

She looked radiant.

Inside the restaurant, Forrest—also dressed in white—caught sight of her from his table by the window. His eyes lit up, and he stood to greet her.