Page 183 of With a Cherry On Top

Logan blinks. “She’s—” He shakes his head. “Nope, forget it. I don’t even want to know.”

“And Amelie’s not exactly eager to...” Charlotte shrugs. “I don’t know, reconnect? So I think I should probably sit this one out. The attention should be on the bride, not on my family drama.”

Logan scoffs. “Wow. Twenty-three, huh?”

Charlotte raises one shoulder and bats her lashes. “You grow up quickly when you’re forced to.”

I squeeze her hand. Though I’m proud Logan’s impressed by her—let’s be real, who wouldn’t be?—thisfucking hurts me.

“Well, if you change your mind . . .”

“Thank you.”

Logan turns to walk away, but I can’t let him leave without making sure this means what I think it does. “Logan?” I call out.

He stops in his tracks and looks back at me.

“Are we good?”

His gaze shifts to our mom, then back to me. “Mom needs us,” he says, his expression pained. “And I sure as fuck need my big brother.” He shrugs. “So...yeah. We’re good.”

I swallow hard, heart pounding in my chest.

“You fucked up,” he continues, his voice rough but not unkind. “Fix it.” He squeezes my shoulder. “I know you can.”

I nod, unable to speak for a moment, the weight of everything finally lifting.

It’s not perfect. But it’sus. I’ll fucking take it.

Even more importantly, I realize as I squeeze Charlotte’s hand in mine, I’ll return the favor.

Amelie opens the door,squinting against the dim hallway light. Her pink pajamas are rumpled, her hair sticking up on one side. “Aaron? What—what time is it?”

Five a.m. But after dropping Charlotte off at home, I knew I couldn’t wait any longer. We need to talk about this before the wedding. Before she leaves for Mayfield for her last week.

“Her mom starves her.”

Amelie freezes.

“Excuse me?” Her voice is sharper now, a thread of warning woven into her confusion. Behind her, Ian appears, his expression mirroring hers—sleepy, but now tinged with concern.

“She counts her calories—twelve hundred a day—and weighs her. She keeps her fridge empty so as not to tempt her.” The words spill out in a rush, tumbling over one another. “She calls her names, and insults her, and tries to shatter her confidence every way she can. She abuses her.”

Amelie stiffens, her posture snapping straight like a wire pulled too tight. She turns to Ian, who looks back at her as if telling her they should listen.

Good, because I won’t let her shut me out. Not this time.

“I get why you’re mad at me, okay?” My voice cracks, but I push forward. “I disappointed you. I betrayed your trust. What I don’t get is why your sister has to pay for it.”

Amelie’s throat works, but she doesn’t speak.

“It wasn’t her choice to be the one Beatrice kept,” I continue, desperation laced through every syllable. “She didn’t choose not to have a relationship with you. Hell, she doesn’t even get to choose what she eats, or when she can leave the house.”

Amelie tucks her hair behind her ears. “Look, Aaron?—”

“You said youchoseyour family,” I cut in, voice rising. “That she’s not part of it. And that’s all great, except not everyone gets that luxury. Most people don’t get to start over. They don’t get to build a new family from scratch. They’re stuck with the one they were given. Even when it’s rotten.”

A lump swells in my throat, but I push through.

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