The Best Men (The Best Men 1) - Page 109

Warmth blooms in the center of my chest. Does it make me an asshole that I totally want to see him do it?

“No—wait.” Mark sets down his eclair. “I actually don’t want him to know he passed on the best guy in New York.” He raises his cool blue eyes to mine. “You are always there when I need you, Asher. I’m dead serious. You’re the best guy I know. I love you, and Rosie and I will be lucky to have you close by. This is a very good surprise.”

Everything inside me finally relaxes. This decision feels so right, it isn’t even funny. I let out a whoop of joyful laughter. “Then I can’t wait to get started on the logistics. It’s a shame I sublet my apartment. I’ll have to find a short-term rental. Or?wait. I could find a different place altogether. Maybe I don’t want to live in Brooklyn if you guys are in Manhattan. I should start researching neighborhoods.”

Mark frowns. “Look, don’t let real estate rule your life either way. Figure out when you’re ready to come home. And then get on a plane. You can stay with me and Rosie while you decide where you want to live.”

“Really?” I breathe.

“Really.” He covers his hand with mine. “I’ll move some polo shirts to make space for you. We’re doing this, Asher St. James. I’m not scared. I don’t do things half-assed.”

My inner superhot wingman wants to make a joke about asses right now, but I rein it in. “That’s an incredible offer, Banks. Will Rosie be okay with it?”

He threads his fingers through mine. “I think so. I spent the last year worrying about Rosie all the time, and never worrying about myself. But you helped me get past that . . .”

My heart thumps with happiness. I don’t think I realized until this very minute that I was as good for Mark as he is for me.

“. . . And the truth is simple: Rosie is a happy kid who’ll be lucky to have you in her life. I would do anything for her. But setting aside my own needs doesn’t seem like the right call anymore.”

I might actually burst now. “Continuing to make you happy in New York would be an honor, Mark. I don’t even know what else to say.” He’s the only person who’s ever made me speechless.

“Good. Then I’ll say something else. You’re mine, wingman. So let’s go home and make this work. I love you, and I’m ready when you are.”

That’s when I run out of words completely. I lean over and kiss him on the lips instead.

EPILOGUE

SIX MONTHS LATER

YOU TWO LOOK FAMILIAR

MARK

I’m sitting on the sofa, eavesdropping, while Rosie manipulates my live-in boyfriend.

“That was a short chapter,” she says. “We could read another one real quick.”

My hands go still on the corkscrew, waiting to hear whether he gives in or does the hard thing and gets his gorgeous ass out here so we can watch TV together. It’s not like I’ve been waiting a whole damn year for the conclusion of An Arranged Marriage. Tonight we’re finally getting the finale to season two.

“Well . . .” Asher hedges.

I clear my throat. Loudly.

“. . . Not this time,” he says, his voice colored by regret.

Honestly, Asher and Rosie are a great team. When he came to stay with us last winter, I’d had no idea how easily my boyfriend would slip into the role of becoming another parent to Rosie.

They have a whole set of jokes and hobbies together. He’s teaching her to play soccer. And lately, they’ve been reading a British series of children’s books I’d never heard of before.

It’s magic. Usually. But tonight, I’m impatient.

I hear the low sound of Asher’s goodnight to my daughter. And the click of the lamp. Now it’s quiet, and I can picture him passing a hand over her hair, and giving her a last kiss on the crown of her head.

Asher never moved out of my apartment. He flew home for Christmas after our Paris weekend and never left. Next month, he’s selling his Brooklyn place to the subletter. We’re going to look around this neighborhood for a bigger place to buy together. But we’ll take our time until the right apartment comes along.

The door closes with a soft click, and Asher emerges from Rosie’s room.

“Finally!” I hiss. “I’m dying here.”

“Simmer down, nerd boy. Ooh, wine?” He seats himself on the couch beside me and I pass him a glass.

I press play.

The theme music kicks in, and Asher wraps an arm around me. “C’mon, Webflix. Give us a happy ending. And if that’s too much to ask for, at least give us a good make-out scene.”

“It’s not too much to ask for,” I argue. “They can tell the duchess where to shove it, and settle down to manage Ollie’s place in the country. His people need him.”

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