Page 14 of It Must Be Fate

“B is the eloquent one so I’m not going to add much to what she’s already said, except to echo that this has been the best, wildest, most fun year I’ve ever had. It’s crazy to me that we’ve only known each other a year and not our entire lives because it feels like you’ve always been there at our sides,” Thayer adds.

Tears sting the corners of my eyes. Up until a few months ago, I’d gone years without crying. Now it seems that I can’t goa couple days without shedding a few tears, thankfully mostly of happiness. Looking over, I can see that Six is similarly affected.

“We should be thankingyou. You taught me how to be brave–”

“And you taught me how to be vulnerable,” I jump in.

“I don’t think either of us realized anything was missing until we met you both. And then it was like the final pieces of a puzzle coming together. We fit perfectly because we were always meant to find each other and form a complete picture together. That’s what I believe,” Six says.

“Whatever we found with our boys, we found in each other just as much. Platonic love is real and it’s powerful and it’s what we have together. Nothing’s ever going to change that and I’m so happy to have found it. I hope that when we have kids they’ll know each other and hopefully feel that as well,” I finish.

“Of course they will!” Bellamy says.

We bring our flutes together, the sound of clinking glass filling the room as we finally cheers.

“To our final sleep at The Pen,” Thayer says.

“To our last night, but notthelast night,” Bellamy adds.

“To the four of us,” I add.

“And to the rest of our lives. Together,” Six says, looking each of us in the eye one after the other. “This is just the beginning.”

***

A year after graduation

Chapter Five

Tristan

I’m in the kitchen taking a pan of salmon and potatoes out of the oven when the doorbell rings.

Frowning, I make my way to the door. I was in the middle of preparing a candlelit dinner for Nera and myself. We’re certainly not expecting any guests tonight so I have no clue who it could be.

I open the door and groan loudly when I see who’s standing on the other side.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. What do you want?”

“Hello to you too,huevón,” Thiago answers, glaring at me.

Thiago da Silva is the head of the da Silva cartel, one of the largest criminal organizations in the United Kingdom and Latin America. He’s a cold-blooded murderer and a violent, unfeeling psychopath.

Inconceivably—and very much to my chagrin— he also happens to be my brother-in-law.

He kidnapped my sister, Tess, forced her to marry him, and, most egregiously of all, somehow, someway, worked some kindof voodoo magic shit that made her fall head over heels in love with him.

When I told her she was definitely suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, she simply laughed and shrugged, patting my shoulder with a playful “absolutely” before walking off.

She’s in too deep I fear, so I’ve had no choice but to grudgingly accept Thiago.

That being said, my brother-in-law and I’s relationship resides somewhere comfortably between the North Pole and the Arctic Circle temperature-wise, so finding him on my stoop is surprising to say the least.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask. My voice takes on a hopeful tone when I add, “Has my sister finally come to her senses and left you?”

Thiago’s fists clench and a dangerous gleam cuts through his eyes. “My wife made me promise to never shoot you, but put those words out into the universe again and I’ll carve you up like a turkey on Thanksgiving day.”

Crossing my arms nonchalantly over my chest, I lean against the doorframe and raise an unimpressed brow at him.

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