Page 44 of A Chance for Us
“No problem, I’ve been having to do this all week with family.”
Mark shakes his head, letting out a sigh. “I want it to be on record that I think this is stupid.”
“Yes, yes,” I say with a groan. “Everyone does.”
Oliver speaks up in my defense. “I thought it was stupid too until I met her father. I see it now, why Maren would want to do this for him. He’s a great guy, and his time is fading away. I think this whole thing has given him peace.”
Tears well in my eyes, and I step to him, needing to hug him, thank him, hold him because he’s done something I can never repay. “You understand it?” I ask.
“I do.”
“Hey, that’s what you say tomorrow,” Mark cuts in.
“Yeah, we’ll save it for the vows tomorrow.”
Oliver pulls me to his side and kisses my temple. “Tomorrow.”
Thirteen
OLIVER
“So, today is the big day,” Grayson says with a grin.
“Shut up.”
“You’re really going to do this?”
I shake my head because, at this point, what else is there to say? Yes, I’m doing this. Why? Because I’m an idiot. Am I sure? No, I’m not fucking sure, but I said I would, so I’m going to. Over and over, my siblings have pestered me, asking the same shit. Except for Stella. No, my beautiful sister hasn’t asked me anything, she just walked over to me, kissed my cheek, and then patted it.
I swear she does stuff like that just to drive me crazy.
“You know, I wish I could say I wouldn’t,” Gray muses as he kicks his heels onto the ottoman. “I think that, as much as we claim we would walk away, none of us would. Women are smart creatures.”
I turn away, hoping it will stop him from talking, but of course, it doesn’t.
“They know how to appeal to our hero complexes, and Lord knows you have the biggest one of all of us.”
“Uh-huh,” I say, pouring myself another glass of whiskey. At least whiskey doesn’t talk, it just makes me feel good.
“You were always the first one to run to help Stella—or any girl, really. If they were hurt, you wanted to soothe them. If they cried, you dried their eyes. If they needed something, you’d find a way.”
“You’re making me sound like a pussy,” I muse and then toss the drink back.
“You are that, but . . .”
I turn, huffing loudly. “Are you here to help or piss me off?”
“Which am I doing?”
“Take a guess.”
Gray laughs. “Ease up, Ollie. I’m just saying that you’re a good guy.”
“No,” I say, stopping whatever else he might be thinking. “I’m no better than Dad.”
Grayson, the annoying dickhead he is, shakes his head. “You are not Dad.”
“I’m fucking lying to everyone. I’m going to pretend to marry someone.”
