Page 7 of Never Really Mine
I raise my palm, signaling the bartender. “What can I get for you?” He eyes my nearly full drink.
“See that girl over there?” I subtly point to Marley. “Any chance you remember what she’s drinking?”
He nods. “Oh yeah, she had the special wine for the event. Dry as shit, but I guess everyone likes it.”
“Give me a glass of it, please.”
The bartender smirks, leaning down to grab the bottle from below and filling the glass with the proper amount. He hands it to me. “On the house. Good luck, bro.”
I chuckle, throwing down a ten-dollar bill as a tip. “Thanks.”
With that, I take her drink in my right hand, my own in my left, and make headway toward Marley. Her eyes are light with humor, cheeks flushed. Her lipstick is just barely smudged on the corner, and I fight an urge to use my thumb to swipe it clean. I stride to her side, holding out the glass of wine. “I got you another, Mar.”
She tries to hide her surprised look, but fails. “Thanks,” she says with a squeak. She takes the full glass, trading me the empty. I set it down on a table next to us, turning my attention back to my brothers. I stand close to Marley, watching my older brothers’ eyes as they watch me.
“Feeling ready for tomorrow?” I ask, the question not directed at anyone specific.
“Oh yeah,” Thomas says with a chuckle. “I’ve got it all planned out. Lennie and I are going to kill the flower girl job.”
I laugh, glancing across the room where my four-year-old niece sits with my and Marley’s parents, smiling as she colors. I feel bad that she doesn’t have any cousins her age, but hopefully soon she’ll have some to play with.
“You just have to remember not to take Lennie’s thunder,” Marley says with a smile.
“That girl is going to run the show. Did you see her practicing tonight?” he asks, completely serious. “She was telling me exactly how to throw the flowers, even correcting the angle of my arm. I think she’s got it down. I’m just the cool uncle.”
“That you are,” Jason mutters. His eyes stray to the wedding planner, Fallon, standing at the table by Lennie with whom I assume is her daughter. The young girl sits down next to Lennie, and the two of them seem to get along instantly, giggling and smiling as Lennie hands her a coloring sheet and crayons.
“Looks like Lennie made a friend,” I say.
“Yeah,” he says, his brows furrowing as if he’s not sure how to feel about it. It has me curious, as I’ve never seen my brother look at someone with such intent, but I opt to let it go for now.
I take a step closer to Marley, focusing on her reaction. She tenses, adjusting herself so she isn’t beside me, only to change her mind, and move closer to me, our arms nearly touching.
Marley relaxes after a moment, and I follow suit. No matter what is going on between us, I feel at home at her side. The conversation flows easily for the rest of the evening, the members of the bridal party slowly dipping out one by one, as we have to get a lot of sleep before the big day tomorrow.
5
MARLEY
Beau has been clinging to me all evening, and I don’t exactly know why. He’s weirdly chipper compared to his normal grumpy attitude. The rest of the bridal party made their way up to the shared suite about fifteen minutes ago, but I wanted to stay back and make sure things got cleaned up and ready for the reception tomorrow.
Beau hung back, watching me move and direct the staff, offering his assistance now and then. Now that things are settled and ready for tomorrow though, I have nowhere to hide, nowhere to escape his haunted gaze.
“I’m going to head up to the room,” I say awkwardly, jerking my thumb over my shoulder to the elevator.
“I’ll walk you up. I’m on the same floor.”
Of course he is.
I wordlessly nod, turning to head toward the elevator. My heels click on the wood floors, my emerald green dress swishing at my ankles. I press the button, and the elevator arrives at the main floor with ading. Beau extends his arm, gesturing for me to go first. I step across the threshold and head to the far corner of the small space, though I doubt it will deter him. Beau seemshell-bent on being within five inches of me at all times this evening. I’d be annoyed, but he’s always been like this. Always wants to be close to me, to make sure I’m okay.
Sure enough, he steps in, turning to hit the button for the third floor and watching the doors slide shut. Once the elevator dings, moving upward, Beau steps back, standing as close to me as possible without physically touching me, though I can feel his body heat on my arms. Goosebumps flare down my arms, my body betraying me.
I take a deep breath, trying to ignore the scent of his cologne. Beau clears his throat. The air is thick with words unsaid. Anxiety churns in my throat, and I need to get out of here.
“Crazy that tomorrow’s the big day,” Beau says, his voice gravely and low. I glance up at him, watching as he pulls a ponytail off his wrist, pulling his long curls into a half pony on the back of his head. I’ve never found long hair, or man buns, for that matter, particularly attractive on men. But on Beau? It’s divine, the perfect look for him, somehow making him even more attractive than he already is.
I drop my gaze when he catches me staring, clutching my right forearm where my newest tattoo is—a butterfly with one perfect wing and the other illustrating a transition into flowers, then fading to dust. I got it shortly before Andrew and Josie got engaged, one of the only tattoos I’ve ever gotten without consulting Beau.
