Need Me (Mess with Me 3)

But when I arrive at the Fitz-Harrington, I discover I don’t know my brother as well as I thought I did either.

My brother, usually the picture of elegance, is on the phone every few minutes nervously checking some detail or other. Normally I would tease him but I can’t when I notice his hands shaking as he picks up the phone again to ask the wedding planner if Casey needs anything.

I even let him fuss over my suit since it’s a new design. He insisted on making our tuxedos entirely on his own, using none of his junior designers. So I stand still as he checks each stitch and every button. If this calms his nerves, then I’ll stand here like a mannequin as long as he needs.

Until he comes at me with a tube of something that looks suspiciously like the mascara Ariana wears everyday.

“What is that? Don’t put that crap on my face.”

Andre sighs. “It’s for your eyebrows. It keeps them in place.”

“My eyebrows are already in place. They’re on my face, exactly as they should be.”

Andre hands the small tube to the blond man hovering at his side, who glares at me before putting it back in his massive case. He’s been tormenting us both with a wide array of creams and powders from his vault of horrors.

“I’ve already got powder on my face. What other indignities must I suffer?” I mutter in Italian.

“The things you do for your family. I’m just glad you seem better,” Andre comments, his dark eyes scanning over me like he’s looking for flaws.

“I am. Your advice was spot on.”

He smiles. “Good. Thank you for everything you’ve done to make this day happen. I know I made your life more difficult with the bachelor party thing.”

“You made my life impossible with that shit. But we got it done.”

Our joint bachelor and bachelorette party had turned out to be somet

hing the gossip magazines would be talking about for ages. Instead of doing something cliché, we’d ended up hosting an elegant Cirque du Soleil themed party two days ago instead. Small and intimate, the dancers moved through the crowd performing right alongside the party attendees. While they hadn’t exactly been scantily clad, their strong, lithe bodies were somehow sexier than any stripper I’ve ever seen.

“How did you come up with the idea to hire those dancers? It was elegant but sensual. Casey loved it.”

“Ariana came up with the idea actually. She said if she couldn’t have Magic Mike then at least she could look at muscular men in tights.”

He bursts into laughter. “Of course. That woman is insane. But Casey loves her. And she did help us get back together even though she didn’t mean to. She meant it when she told me to fuck off. She really meant it,” he mumbles under his breath.

I struggle to wipe the smile off my face. My brother still has no idea that insane woman is the love of my life.

This last week we’ve existed in a bubble outside of time. I’ve spent each evening at her place, bringing her takeout from all my favorite places in the city.

We talk.

We laugh.

We make love.

But we don’t talk of the future or the test results, which still haven’t come back. Ariana admitted they usually don’t take this long and I could hear the worry she refuses to voice.

A waiter knocks once on the open door before wheeling in a tray of champagne.

“Delivery! Man, I love working here. There’s always something bonkers going on.”

Andre’s head lifts. “Bonkers?”

The waiter chuckles to himself as he uncorks one of the bottles. “Yeah, I just saw some chick in a white dress running down the halls. Can you say runaway bride?”

Andre pales.

I snatch the champagne bottle out of the waiter’s hand. “This is the groom.”