Chapter 48
Harrison
Our kiss breaks apart to cheers as the crowd sweeps us away, hands clapping shoulders, arms pulling us into hugs.
I’m still reeling from it.
From her.
Something settles heavily in my chest, unfamiliar and dangerous.
Does Pix feel this, too?
The electric spark that could power a rocket to space?
Or has she already flipped the switch, filed this under very good, excellent performance, and moved on?
Because if it’s only me standing here on shaking ground, that’s a problem. And I need to talk to her. Now.
I start scanning the room for Pix.
And then my worst nightmare steps into my fucking path. Six-foot-four. Built like a tank. Zero smile.
Gabe.
“Harrison,” he says, blocking me clean. “Can I talk to you?”
He’s calm. Too calm.
“Sure, Gabe.”
“Privately.” The way he says it isn’t exactly a suggestion.
I’m fairly certain this is where Pix’s big, bad older brother kills me.
If there’s a hall of fame for spectacularly bad decisions involving your best friend’s baby sister, I’ve just been inducted. Possibly with a plaque.
Dating her would’ve been one thing.
We did not date.
What we did was take sinful depravity to a whole new level.
Repeatedly.
And then, without so much as a courtesy text, we married each other. No warning. No invite.
No heads-up text with the hands-in-the-air this is happening emoji followed by a church.
Gabe falls into step beside me, steering me away from the party, and I catch sight of Pix across the room. I lock eyes with her and send a full-scale mental SOS.
Flares.
Sirens.
Mayday.
MAY. DAY.
She waves back. Big. Radiant. Completely unbothered.
Dammit, woman. Are we or are we not married? Read my thoughts.
Gabe turns toward Mrs. D.’s gourmet kitchen. One he’s almost definitely already tested for soundproofing.
So no one hears my screams.
I clock at least six objects within arm’s reach that could be hurled at my head.
Gabe doesn’t raise his voice. And I recognize the tone immediately. Barely controlled restraint.
“So, you married my sister.”
I fiddle with the ring on my finger. “It would appear so.”
He notices. “A gold band would’ve been nice,” he says.
Great. Now I’m the hippie who proposes with a gas-station tallboy and a dandelion stem.
Nice.
My brain promptly spirals into unfamiliar territory. What kind of ring would Pix even want? Classic gold and solitaire? Or something aggressively Hollywood, a diamond so big it needs a security detail and a wall safe?
No. No, no, no.
This is the girl whose favorite ballet flats are a no-name brand with one of the sides held together with hot glue.
Simple. Elegant.
I can practically picture the design.
“When I told you to keep an eye on her,” Gabe continues, “this isn’t what I had in mind.”
“It isn’t what I had in mind either.” I drag a hand through my hair. “I know. This wasn’t exactly… planned.”
That earns me a long look.
He points once.
“Can you protect her like this?” he asks. “I know you, Harrison. I know the rules you live by. The walls you put up after everything you lost.”
I feel the weight of his stare.
“My sister doesn’t need someone who’s too close to see straight.”
“I know,” I say quietly. “When I lost my wife, I lost a lot of myself with her. I didn’t think I’d ever come back from that.”
I hold his gaze.
“But the kids brought me back. My family brought me back. And your sister…” I shake my head once. “She brought me back to a place I thought died a long time ago.”
I meet his gaze head-on.
“I will never let anything happen to your sister, Gabe. Period.”
Gabe tips his chin up. “You’re sure?” he asks. “Because when she goes back to Los Angeles… where will you be?”
Fair fucking question.
And one I don’t have an answer to. I’ve run this drill a hundred times and still can’t see the finish line.
“I don’t have all the answers,” I admit. He rolls his eyes, and suddenly, something about this inquisition is getting on my nerves. “ I respect you and love you like a brother, but whatever happens between your sister and me is for us to work out.”
He thinks that one through,
“You could’ve told me.”
“I know.”
“Like last night.”
He’s got a point.
Except last night, I had no idea Pix and I were even married. But considering he’s currently eyeing the knife block like he’s weighing his options, I keep that particular detail to myself.
I sidestep his inquisition. “Neither of us are impulsive people. Doing something like this is… new.” I shrug. “We’re still figuring it out.”
“You might be my boss,” he says quietly. “My best friend. And the one guy I’ve trusted my life to more times than I can count.” His jaw tightens. “But so help me God, if you ever hurt her—”
“I won’t,” I say. “You know me.”
“I thought I did. But then again, I thought you didn’t really know my sister so there’s that.”
I plant my hands on the counter and think. I’ve lost Gabe’s trust. And the only way back is straight through the truth. So, I lay it all on the line.
“Look,” I say, blowing out a breath, “I did not wake up one day and decide I wanted to get involved with a woman whose coffee order feels like a TED Talk, cleans like it’s a competitive sport, and has an unhealthy attachment to romance novels.”
“Especially romantasy,” he says, smirking.
I shake my head. “Especially romantasy. Which, up until the day before I met her, didn’t exist in my vocabulary. And don’t get me started on the shoe situation.”
The faintest trace of a smile tugs at his mouth. “The ballet flats?”
I snap my fingers. “Those. I watched her fix a loose flap with hot glue. Hot glue, Gabe. Like it was fucking craft day at the county fair.”
He stares at me.
I keep going.
“She’s Ollie’s go-to for the latest comics and Connor’s supplier for aftershave.
Which is impressive, considering he’s got maybe five chin hairs to his name.
And Snooki?” I huff. “Snooki no longer trusts me with her hair. At all.” I hold his gaze.
“So, when I say I didn’t plan for this, trust me, I did not plan for this. ”
“Your kids seem pretty attached,” he says quietly.
“Attached?” I give a wry huff. “Try adoption. They’ve adopted her.”
He steps closer, squares up to me, and looks me dead in the eye. “Do you love her?”
Fuck.
I don’t even know how to answer that. I could reach for something polished. Say the right thing. Do that acting thing Pix makes look effortless.
But I don’t want to.
I tell him the truth. At least as much of the truth as I actually possess.
“Your sister is the most incredible woman I know,” I say quietly. “Any man would be a fool not to love her.”
From where he’s standing, I know he could drop me with one clean shot. And if he did, I’d take it.
Instead, he exhales.
Then he pulls me into a hug. Solid and brotherly and brutal. And for the first time since I walked into this room, my chest loosens enough to breathe.
He holds out a hand. “You better take care of her. Or I’ll make you dig your own grave before I bury you in it.”
Two hard pats to my back.
“I will,” I say. “And stop threatening me with manual labor.”
We both chuckle, and he playfully punches my gut. “And at least you’re not that prick, Pierce Maddox.”
I let out a breathy laugh. “Could you set the bar a little lower?”
With that, he grabs a bottle of scotch from the wall, pulls down two glasses, and pours.
We clink.
“Welcome to the family, hermano.”
The burn hits on the way down, knocking something loose in my chest.
The realization of exactly what’s at stake.
Her.
I can feel the happiness resting in the palms of my hands, and part of me is already willing to break before I ever let it go.
Gabe pulls something from his pocket and presses it into my hand. “By express courier.”
I glance down and nod once. “Pix’s new phone. The latest upgrade?”
“Locked and loaded.”
Good. At least she’s not leaving New York empty-handed.
When we make our way back into the party, I spot Pix making a serious dent in a plate of appetizers.
I slip an arm around her waist and kiss her cheek. It isn’t for show. It just feels right.
She glances up at me. “Everything okay?” she asks, nodding toward Gabe.
I puff out my chest a little. “He welcomed me to the family, actually.”
Her smile softens, and we both pretend not to feel the thin current of doubt threading between us.