Chapter 6: Morning After and a New Command
The reminder glowed on the screen like a tiny, malevolent star in the dark room.Mia stared at it, her breath catching.Benjie’s BBQ. An entire afternoon with their friends—Marc’s friends—loomed like a trial by fire. She could feel Marc’s panic rising within her, a sour tide in her throat.How? How could they possibly go?What would they say? A sudden, wild fantasy of faking illness, of hiding under the covers for the next 26 days, bloomed and wilted almost instantly. Gabi would never allow it.Gabi, whose steady heartbeat was still a drum against her ear.
Carefully, she disentangled herself from Gabi’s sleeping form. The silk of the camisole felt sticky against her skin now, a costume she needed to shed. In the en-suite bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face, studying the stranger in the mirror. The face was flushed, lips slightly swollen from Gabi’s kisses, eyes wide with a fear that was entirely Marc’s. “We can’t go,” he whispered to the reflection. But the reflection just stared back, a beautiful woman trembling in the low light.Mia took a deep, shuddering breath. They had to go.Not going would raise more questions than showing up with… a friend?A cousin? A mysterious, stunning plus-one that Marc had somehow failed to mention?
She crept back into the bedroom, the hardwood cool under her bare feet. Gabi had shifted, one arm thrown across Marc’s empty side of the bed, her brows slightly furrowed even in sleep. Mia watched her for a long moment. This was the woman who had orchestrated this, who was navigating this bizarre reality with terrifying confidence.She needed Gabi’s strategy, her steel.But she also resented needing it.
Dawn bled into the room, turning the grey light to soft gold. Mia moved on autopilot, slipping out of the silk and into a pair of tiny black micro-shorts and a loose, faded grey tank top she’d pulled from a drawer.It was comfortable. It felt like something Mia might wear on a lazy morning.Not Marc. The distinction was becoming easier, a path of less resistance.She padded to the kitchen, the silence of the house a heavy blanket.
The act of cooking was a therapy session. She cracked eggs with precise taps, whisked them with a rhythmic, calming motion.She sliced strawberries, the red juice staining her fingertips. She poured orange juice and champagne for mimosas, the bubbles rising in a cheerful, deceitful stream. She was building a bulwark of normalcy, one perfect, fluffy scrambled egg at a time. The garden outside the floor-to-ceiling windows was a tangle of green, wild and overgrown because Marc had been distracted—first by the app, then by the transformation. He made a mental note to get out there next week, then caught himself.He wouldn’t be here next week. Mia might be.The smell of coffee, of browning butter, filled the sunlit space. She was setting two plates on the island when she heard the soft pad of footsteps.
Gabi stood in the doorway, her silk robe tied loosely, her sharp bob mussed from sleep. Her eyes, still clouded with drowsiness, swept the scene: the elegant breakfast, the sun pouring in, and Mia, leaning against the counter with a glass of juice, the tank top slipping off one smooth shoulder, the micro-shorts exposing the long, toned lines of her thighs.Gabi froze. A stillness came over her, different from her usual poised control.This was a deep, hungry arrest. Her gaze darkened, the green of her eyes deepening to something nearly black. She didn’t speak. She just watched as Mia, feeling the weight of that look, slowly straightened up, self-consciously tugging the strap of her tank top back into place.The gesture was futile. It only drew more attention.“Morning,” Mia said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Gabi moved then.Not with her usual brisk efficiency, but with a deliberate, predatory glide. She crossed the kitchen, her eyes never leaving Mia’s.The air grew thick, charged. Mia’s heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird trapped behind bone. Gabi didn’t stop until she was right in front of her, until Mia could smell the sleep on her skin, the faint scent of her perfume from yesterday.
Gabi’s hands came up, not to embrace, but to plant themselves on the marble counter on either side of Mia’s hips, caging her in. She leaned in, her body a line of heat, and kissed her.
It wasn’t the soft, exploratory kiss from last night.This was fierce, possessive, all consuming. It was a reclaiming. Gabi’s tongue demanded entry, and Mia gave it, a weak sound escaping her throat. Gabi’s hands left the counter, one tangling in Mia’s long, wavy hair, the other sliding down her side, over the curve of her hip, coming to rest on the bare skin of her thigh.Her fingers dug in, not quite painful, but possessive. A brand.Mia’s head was spinning. The part of her that was Marc was shouting, affronted, terrified. The part that was Mia was melting, liquid heat pooling low in her stomach. Her hands came up, fluttering, unsure where to land, finally settling on Gabi’s slender waist, feeling the muscle beneath the silk.
After what felt like an eternity, Gabi pulled back, breathing ragged.She rested her forehead against Mia’s, her eyes closed. Her thumb was stroking small, maddening circles on Mia’s inner thigh.
“You made breakfast,” Gabi murmured, her voice rough.
“I… yes.”
“You look like a dream.” Gabi’s eyes opened, and the intensity in them was almost too much to bear. “A very, very dangerous dream.”
“Gabi,” Mia started, needing to talk about the BBQ, about the impending disaster.
“Shhh.” Gabi placed a finger over Mia’s lips.“Eat first. We’ll need our strength.” The way she said it held a promise that had nothing to do with social endurance.
They ate in a silence that crackled with unresolved tension.Mia picked at her food, her appetite gone. Gabi ate with deliberate focus, watching Mia over the rim of her mimosa glass.Every glance felt like a touch.
Finally, Gabi set her fork down with a soft clink.“Benjie’s. Two o’clock.” She stated it like a general reviewing battle plans.
“We can’t go,” Mia blurted out, the Marc-ness of the fear breaking through.“What are we going to say? Who am I supposed to be?”
Gabi leaned back, considering. “We say you’re Mia.A friend of mine from… out of town. You’re staying with us for a while.That’s it.”
“A friend?Gabi, they know all your friends. Benjie, Liam, Sarah—they’ve met everyone.And what about Marc? Where is he?”
“On a retreat,” Gabi said smoothly, without missing a beat. “A sudden, silent meditation thing in Colorado.No phones.He needed a break. Benjie will buy that; he’s always telling Marc to chill out.”
The casual, complete fabrication was chilling. “A month-long silent retreat?With no contact? He’ll think we’ve broken up!”
“He’ll think Marc is finally taking his advice.It’s plausible deniability. And it gives us cover.” Gabi’s gaze was analytical, almost cold.“The important part is you. You’re Mia.You’re my friend.You’re shy, a bit reserved. You stick by me.You let me do the talking.”
“And when they ask what I do? Where I’m from?”
“You’re between things.You’re from the West Coast. Keep it vague. People talk about themselves, they don’t really listen.” Gabi stood up, taking the plates to the sink.“Now, go shower.Wear the cream-colored sundress. The one with the buttons down the front.”
The command was back. The moment of post-breakfast intimacy was gone, replaced by Gabi’s operational mode. Mia felt herself shutting down, retreating into a numb compliance.It was easier than fighting.The shower was a sanctuary. The hot water pummeled her skin, but it couldn’t wash away the feeling of Gabi’s hand on her thigh, the possessive gleam in her eye. She dressed mechanically in the cream dress.It was simple, elegant, cinching at her waist and flaring over her hips. It made her look soft, approachable.Innocent.She hated it.
When she emerged, Gabi was already dressed in crisp, white linen trousers and a navy blue sleeveless top, her hair sleek and perfect, her makeup minimal and fierce. She looked like a CEO going to a casual country club.She assessed Mia, a slow, approving smile touching her lips.“Perfect. You look like a harmless angel.” The way she said ‘harmless’ made it sound like the opposite.
She produced a wide-brimmed sun hat.“For you. Less eye contact.”
The drive to Benjie and Cara’s place was a quiet torture. Mia stared out the window, watching the familiar suburbs blur past. Every landmark was a memory: the park where he and Benjie used to jog, the craft beer bar where they’d watch the game, the idiot roundabout everyone always got wrong.It was the map of his life, and he was now a tourist in it.
Benjie’s house was chaos incarnate—the good kind. The smell of charcoal and smoked meat hung in the humid afternoon air. Children shrieked, chasing each other through a sprinkler on the lawn.Classic rock blasted from a portable speaker. A cluster of people stood around a massive grill where Benjie, sporting a ridiculous “Kiss the Chef” apron and holding a pair of tongs like a scepter, was holding court.
Mia’s hand tightened on the potato salad container she was carrying—her offering, made by Marc this morning in a final, futile act of clinging to himself.“Okay,” Gabi whispered, taking the salad from her stiff fingers.“Remember. My friend.Shy. Stick close.” Her hand settled on the small of Mia’s back, a proprietary guide.They rounded the corner to the back deck.Benjie saw them first. His face, already ruddy from heat and beer, broke into a huge grin.“Gabi! You made it!” His eyes skipped over Mia, registering her as an accessory, and flicked back to Gabi.“Where’s the man of the hour? Hiding from my famous spicy wings?”
Gabi laughed, a light, social sound. “He’s actually on a retreat, can you believe it?A last-minute silent meditation thing in the mountains. I think you finally shamed him into it, Benj.”
Benjie’s eyes widened.“No shit?Good for him! Well, hell, more wings for us. And who’s this?” His full attention landed on Mia now, friendly, curious.“This is Mia, a friend from out west. She’s staying with me for a bit. Mia, this is Benjie, our resident grill-master and purveyor of terrible jokes.”
“Hey now,” Benjie said, but he was already reaching out to shake Mia’s hand.His grip was firm, his eyes kind. “Any friend of Gabi’s.Welcome.Drinks are in the cooler, food’s on its way. Make yourself at home.”
It was so easy. Benjie, one of Marc’s closest friends, had accepted the fiction without a second thought.The relief was immediately swamped by a profound, isolating sadness. He didn’t see Marc at all.He just saw a pretty woman.
Gabi steered her towards a group of women lounging in a circle of Adirondack chairs under a large oak tree. Mia recognized them: Sarah, Benjie’s wife, a warm-hearted kindergarten teacher; Lynne, a fiercely intelligent architect; Chloe, who worked in marketing and always had the sharpest, most gossipy commentary.They were Marc’s friends too, in a way. He’d listened to their stories for years.
“Ladies,” Gabi announced, her hand still firmly on Mia’s back.“This is my friend Mia. Mia, this is everyone.”
A chorus of hellos.Eyes, sharp and appraising, swept over her. It was a different kind of look than Benjie’s.This was a calculation. They noted the dress, the hair, the way Gabi’s hand rested on her.
“So, Mia,” Chloe said, sipping a spiked seltzer.“Gabi says you’re from out west? Whereabouts?”
“Um, just outside of Portland,” Mia said, her voice quieter than she intended. She’d chosen Oregon on the drive over.Vague enough.
“Oh, I love it there!” Sarah said. “What brings you all the way out here?”
“Just… needed a change of scenery,” Mia offered, forcing a smile. “Gabi was kind enough to offer her guest room.”
“How long are you staying?” Lynne asked, her gaze perceptive.“A few weeks. Maybe a month. Playing it by ear.”
“And what do you do?” Chloe again, relentless.“I’m… between things right now.” Mia could feel herself shrinking under the spotlight. She was failing at vague; she was coming across as awkward and evasive.
Gabi smoothly interjected.“She’s in graphic design, but she’s taking a sabbatical. Aren’t the others coming? I thought Jess and Mike were bringing the cornhole boards.”
The conversation pivoted, thank god. Mia sank into a chair Gabi guided her towards, feeling like she’d just run a sprint.Gabi took the seat beside her, close enough that their arms brushed. The contact was a steadying current, but also a tether.
The afternoon unfolded in a surreal haze.Mia sipped a drink she didn’t taste. She nodded at conversations, offering little smiles.The women talked about work, about schools, about a Netflix series. It was all completely normal and utterly alien. Marc had heard these conversations a hundred times, but from the periphery, as the husband who might drift over to check on the grill, or refill drinks. Now he was seated squarely in the middle of it, expected to participate.He heard things differently. Lynne complained about a contractor talking over her. “He just assumed I didn’t understand the structural plans because I’m the client, and a woman. I had to show him my degree before he’d shut up.” The others murmured in sympathetic agreement. Marc had heard similar stories before, had offered his support to Gabi about boardroom dynamics. But hearing it now, seated as a woman among women, it landed differently.It wasn’t an abstract injustice; it was a shared, fatiguing reality. He felt a spark of anger on Lynne’s behalf that was new, more personal.
Chloe made a comment about another guest’s outfit. “Bless her heart, that print is doing her no favors.” A few of the others chuckled. Marc, as Marc, would have frowned, found it catty. Sitting as Mia, he felt a strange pressure to smile along, to be part of the group.He didn’t, but the expectation was a palpable weight.
Throughout it all, he was acutely aware of Gabi.Not just beside him, but watching. Her attention wasn’t always on him; she laughed with Sarah, debated a point with Lynne. But her gaze would periodically return to him, a quick, burning glance that felt like a physical touch. Checking in.Owning.
At one point, Benjie lumbered over, bearing a plate of his famous, sauce-drenched wings.“For the newbie!You gotta try ‘em. They’re a rite of passage.” He winked at Gabi.
Mia took one, the sauce staining her fingers.As she took a bite, the heat was instant and catastrophic. Her eyes watered.She coughed.“Wow,” she gasped, reaching for her drink. “That’s… that’s something.”
Benjie boomed with laughter.“Told ya! You handled it better than Marc did his first time. He turned bright red and drank about a gallon of milk.”
The mention of his own name, in his own absence, was a sucker punch. Mia froze, the wing halfway to her mouth. She felt Gabi’s hand come to rest, lightly, on her knee.
“Marc has a more refined palate,” Gabi said dryly. “He appreciates subtler flavors.”
“He appreciates not setting his face on fire,” Benjie retorted, laughing as he moved back to his grill kingdom.
The moment passed, but the crack had opened. Mia sat there, surrounded by laughter and smoke and the clinking of ice in cups, feeling like a ghost haunting his own funeral party.
As dusk began to settle, painting the sky in streaks of orange and purple, the fairy lights strung around the deck flickered on. The children, exhausted, were being rounded up.The conversation had mellowed. Mia felt a desperate hope that they could leave soon.
Then Gabi leaned in, her lips brushing the shell of Mia’s ear. Her voice was a low, warm murmur meant only for her, but the intent in it was icy cold.“We need to get ready to go soon. But first…” Gabi’s hand squeezed her knee gently. “You’ve done so well sitting here, listening.Being one of the girls.” She paused, letting the words hang. “I want you to really be with them for a minute. I’m going to go help Benjie box up some leftovers.You stay right here.”
Mia’s blood ran cold. “Gabi, I…”
“Stay.” The word was soft, final.Gabi stood up, smiling at the group. “Give me a hand with these plates, Benjie? Mia, hold my seat.”
And then she was gone, weaving through the crowd towards the grill, leaving Mia alone in the circle of women.
The dynamic shifted instantly, subtly. Without Gabi’s dominating presence as a buffer, the focus settled more fully on Mia.She was the unknown variable.
“So, Mia,” Chloe said, leaning forward, her eyes glinting in the fairy light. “You and Gabi seem very… close.”
Mia felt a flush creep up her neck. “She’s been a great host.”
“I’ll bet,” Chloe said, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “I’ve never seen Gabi so… attentive. It’s cute.”
“How did you two meet?” Lynne asked, her tone gentler but no less curious.Mia’s mind went blank. They hadn’t crafted this story.“Oh, it was… a work thing.A conference. A few years ago.” The lie felt clumsy, huge.
“And you just decided to drop everything and come stay?That’s brave.” Sarah said it kindly, but the question was still there.
“Like I said, needed a change.” Mia’s voice was tightening.
“And Marc’s just… okay with this?” Chloe pressed, unable to help herself. “Gabi’s gorgeous, mysterious friend moves in while he’s away meditating? That’s a plotline.”
They all laughed, but it was tense.Mia felt exposed, dissected. This was the scrutiny Gabi had wanted her to feel.This was the punishment, or the lesson. To sit here, as Mia, and be seen not as Marc’s wife, but as a potential threat, a complication, an object of speculation. The casual cruelty of it, the sheer normalcy of their curiosity, was more horrifying than outright hostility.
She mumbled something non-committal, looking down at her hands, at the delicate fingers that were not her own. She could feel their eyes on her, could almost hear the unspoken questions forming.Was something going on?Was Gabi…? And what did that say about Marc?After an eternity that lasted perhaps five minutes, Gabi returned. She carried a to-go container, her expression serene. She read the tension in the circle immediately, a flicker of satisfaction in her eyes. She reclaimed her seat, her thigh pressing against Mia’s, a solid, claiming line of heat.
“Ready?” Gabi said to Mia, not to the group.Mia just nodded, unable to speak.The goodbyes were a blur. Benjie enveloped Gabi in a bear hug, told Mia it was great to meet her. The women called their farewells, their eyes still lingering.In the car, the silence was absolute. The suburban streets were dark now, pools of light from streetlamps sliding over the dashboard.
Gabi drove, one hand resting on Mia’s leg, just above the knee. Her touch was no longer a brand, but a shackle.
“You see?” Gabi said quietly, after ten minutes had passed.“You see how they looked at you? How they wondered?”
Mia stared out the window, tears of frustration and shame pricking her eyes.She didn’t answer.
“They didn’t see Marc.They saw a beautiful woman who might be a problem. Or an opportunity.” Gabi’s thumb stroked her leg. “That’s the world you’re in now.That’s the power you have. And it’s mine to watch.”
They pulled into their driveway.The house was dark, looming. Gabi turned off the engine but didn’t move.She turned to Mia, her face illuminated by the green glow of the dashboard lights.
“You did well today. But tomorrow,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper that filled the dark car, “we need to get ready for the week. And you’re going to need to sit with the girls.All of them.At the café, maybe. Or for drinks after work.And I’m going to watch.”
The promise was clear.This wasn’t over. The performance was just beginning, and the audience—Gabi—was demanding more. Mia closed her eyes, not against the dark, but against the terrifying, gleaming hunger in Gabi’s. She was no longer just living in Mia’s body. She was trapped in Gabi’s fantasy. And as the first fireflies of the evening began their silent, desperate blinking in the overgrown garden, she had no idea how to escape it.