Page 89 of Beg Me

“You’re right,” I say. “Your relationship with Markie isn’t mine to fix. It’s not my problem.”

“You’re damn right, it isn’t.”

“But when you upset her—when she has tears in her eyes when she gets off the phone with you—it becomes my problem,” I say, my tone steady and controlled. “I make it my problem.”

“What are you saying?”

My grip tightens around the phone. “I’m saying that your sister is in my life, Miles. So, when you hurt her, don’t expect me to pretend I don’t see it.”

“Fuck you, Plath.”

He ends the call.

I stare at the wall for a minute, letting my heart rate return to normal. But the longer I go without moving, the more I wish that my next movement was toward Markie.

If we lived in the same town, if our lives were more aligned—if I didn’t think that approaching the conversation about us would scare her off—I would’ve already taken steps to be her forever pickleball partner. If. If. Fucking if.

I really like Markie. And the fact that she didn’t malign her brother and tell me what he said says more about her character than I realized. He was terrible to her, and she’d have every right to vent to me about him.

But she didn’t. She was trying to protect my relationship with him.

That’s the woman he just disparaged. Who he called a whore.

My stomach twists, and I take a deep breath.

I don’t know this guy. But Markie? I consider her my family. I want to introduce her to my mom. I want her to meet my friends and become a part of my life in every way.

But I know a few things about her, mostly that she’s independent and determined. She’s fiercely loyal. She loves her family and friends, almost to the point of failure. Would she have space in that heart of hers to love Gus and me, too?

My own heart skips a beat as I consider that.

If I don’t pressure her and continue to show up for her—prove that I’m not like the others when it comes to her, could there be a future for us somehow?

Because I think that’s what I’ve been hoping for.

And I’ve never hoped for something as much as this.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FIVE

Markie

“What do you think?” I ask Jory as we reach the barn. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

The sun hangs just above the trees that loom over the clearing, punctuated by the most beautiful spray of pinks and purples that the world has ever seen. It’s as if the universe is giving Brooks and Audrey their blessing.

My friends and I have spent countless hours transforming the old wooden structure into a venue fit for a princess’s wedding. Seeing it at sunset, as the lights hanging from the rafters twinkle and the candles flicker in the shadows, it was all worth it. Even if Astrid nearly murdered everyone in the process.

How in the world will she ever manage her own wedding and not have a coronary?

“I’m going to be honest,” he says, lacing our fingers together. “The barn looks great. But you have a monopoly on beautiful tonight.”

The look on his face when he picked me up from my house said it all. His jaw nearly dropped when I opened the door in this navy-blue number that I’ve had in my closet for weeks. It was on sale, and I had no place to wear it, but it fit me like a glove, so I couldn’t pass it up.

“Thank you,” I say, laying my head against his bicep as we pass through a massive pink-and-white flower-laden arch.

“Wow,” Jory says, pausing to take everything in. “You and your friends did this? This is incredible.”