Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Our buzzing phones interrupt us. I glance at mine, and a grin tugs at the corner of my mouth when I see who’s messaging.
“Beckett,” I say, holding up the screen to show Maeve his text. “‘Why am I the last to know?’”
We laugh for a few seconds, but when I pocket my phone, something still nags at me. “Stay here,” I say.
Heading to the nearest bathroom, I grab a washcloth and run it under warm water.
Maeve looks at me, puzzled when I return. “What are you doing?”
I step close, gently taking her arm. “Getting that guy off you,” I say, my voice low but resolute. I scrub her shoulder where Nigel’s hand had lingered, wiping away any trace of him.
When I’m done, I press a kiss onto her shoulder.
Marking my wife.
21
AND NOW I SHALL EXPLAIN MYSELF
Asher
I push up the chrome bar with a quiet grunt, the weights straining my arms, but it feels damn good. Not everything does, though—like the way Beckett’s looking at me. We’re in a quiet corner of his flagship gym on Fillmore Street, the early Sunday morning lull giving us the place to ourselves.
“So, let me get this straight,” he says, brow furrowed as he spots me, almost like he doesn’t want to. I grip the bar tighter just in case he’s considering taking me out. “It’s temporary? A mutual arrangement. For her project and the charity? Did I get that right?”
“Pretty much nailed it,” I admit, drawing a deep breath before pushing the bar up for one last rep. My muscles burn, but I focus on the movement until I set the bar back in place and sit up, escaping his death stare. Sure, he sent that easygoing text last night to both of us, but it was followed by one to me alone, saying, Be prepared to explain yourself tomorrow morning.
Now I have, and I’m hoping he gets why his sister and I are staying hitched. But Beckett’s shaking his head and muttering, “Dude.”
That dude is never good. Not the way he says it. I wipe the sweat off my forehead and brace for impact.
“It’s fine,” I say, trying to reassure him. “I’d never hurt her. You know that, right?”
Maybe I was wrong to think he’d find our wedding funny. It’s not just a wedding anymore. It’s a marriage. So, yeah, him wanting to kill me feels reasonable-ish.
Beckett scratches his jaw, his eyes narrowing. “Yeah, I know you wouldn’t hurt her. It’s just...” He pauses, then sighs. “Think about the stakes, man.”
I toss the towel aside, meeting his gaze with a serious one. “I am thinking about them, Beckett. All the time.”
“Me too. Because you’re my friend, but she’s my little sister,” he says, crossing his arms, reinforcing the point I already know. “She’s trying to make her way in the world, dealing with an overbearing aunt. You’re already a successful hockey player. If this goes south, you’ll be fine. But she might not be.”
He has no idea how much that only makes me want to protect her more. I square my shoulders. “I won’t let anyone hurt her,” I say solemnly.
Beckett studies me for a moment. “You really mean that?”
“One hundred percent. No—one thousand percent.”
“You’re gambling with a lot here,” Beckett continues, his tone careful. “It might feel like fun and games, but you’re throwing her into the public limelight. The art world—it’s not like our world of sports and fitness. Art is all about perception, value, and reputation. It’s all about who knows who. If this goes sideways, it could mess things up for her.”
“I know,” I say quietly, guilt slicing through me. I’d never want to hurt her. I only want to support her. I long to see her shine and share her light with the world. I hope I didn’t make things harder for her. But that’s all the more reason to look out for her with everything I have. “She’s my friend too.”
Fine, I wasn’t so friendly with her the other night in the hotel room. But no need to mention that. Maeve and I agreed it wouldn’t happen again, so there’s no need to bring it up.
“Yeah.” Beckett nods, relenting a little. “You guys are as good friends as you and me.”
“We are.” I’m glad he knows that. What I feel inside, though, is way more than friendship. “I care about her.”
“I know you do.” He takes a beat. “Sorry for giving you a hard time. It’s just...when Mom and Dad died, I had to look out for her. I can’t stop looking out for her. Maeve’s like a Pokémon that keeps evolving but also keeps trying to run away.”
I shoot him a Did you really go there? look. “Did you just compare your sister to a high-maintenance Pokémon?”
“Yeah, I did,” he admits.
But I don’t see her that way. I see her as the woman who remembers every birthday, every anniversary, every little moment. As the friend who goes to battle with you, who makes you laugh, and who shows up whenever you need someone. I see her as the human who finds inspiration in the sky, the stars, and everything in between. I see her as chaos and beauty melted into one gorgeous, joyful, complicated person who understands I’m not always as happy as I let the world see.