Make Me (Broke and Beautiful #3)(67)

“You’re too late,” Ben said, looking smug. “I asked Abby weeks ago. She’s throwing it to Honey.”

“You slick motherf*cker.” Louis laughed and punched Ben in the shoulder. “I guess I deserve that for not being on the ball. At least Roxy agreed to move in with me. I’ll have to trick her into marrying me another way. Maybe hypnosis . . .”

“Honey and I are looking for our own place, too. Somewhere between Columbia and NYU, so we have an equal commute.” Ben slid his hands into the tuxedo pockets. “I can’t believe we won’t have this place to come to anymore. The storage room on the ground floor is where Honey and I . . . you know . . . kissed for the first time.”

Alec groaned toward the sky. “This is about to get sappy, isn’t it?”

Russell cleared the tightness from his throat. “I’ve carried Abby up these steps more times than I can count. I’m going to miss that.”

“I picked Roxy up for our first official date upstairs.” Louis ran a hand through his hair. “Ah, listen. We’ll just take turns crashing each other’s places. Probably wherever Honey is, though. She’s the best cook.”

A smile spread across Ben’s face. “She’ll love that.”

“It’s been a crazy year,” Russell said under his breath. “The best year.”

The three friends nodded, just as the building’s door swung open to reveal Abby in a simple, long-sleeved white dress, a crown of flowers on her head. Russell’s legs turned to glue on the spot, the air vanishing from his lungs. His nickname for her had never been more apt at that moment, elevated above him as she was like an angel, smiling into the pure, fall sunlight.

Abby’s father stood to her left, his daughter’s hand tucked into the crook of his elbow. Behind her, wearing bright red dresses were Honey and Roxy, beaming from ear to ear. Abby’s stepmother was reserved as always, but Russell caught a hint of tears shining in her eyes before he quickly turned his attention back to Abby. God, he loved her. He’d loved her. Seeing her in the very same spot he’d first witnessed her beauty, knowing she had agreed to become his wife, filled him with so much contentment and gratefulness, he was surprised he didn’t tip over and capsize.

Without taking his gaze off Abby, Russell spoke to the priest who’d been standing off to the side. “Make her my wife as fast as humanly possible, please.”

Abby laughed, a bright, beautiful sound that floated down and grabbed Russell, forcing him to meet her halfway as she descended the stairs, retrieving her from her father. He’d gotten to know him in the months preceding the wedding, and the fact was, Abby’s father hadn’t always been richer than sin. He’d started with next to nothing, giving them more in common than Russell had ever expected. The relief of having Abby’s father’s approval was vast even if he was still working on the mother. Every time they had dinner together, though, he wore her down a little more. He’d even coaxed a smile out of her the last time.

Russell looked down at Abby and got lost in her, their surroundings blurring into background noise. “Every day I wake up thinking I can’t possibly love you any more.” He kissed her forehead. “And then you look at me . . . and I’m proven wrong.”

Her eyes went even softer as she pressed her cheek to his. “You’re not alone.” He felt her breath warm his ear. “I’m so happy. You make me so happy.”

The pleasure of hearing that made his eyes closed. “I’ll never stop. Marry me so I never have to stop.”

Russell and Abby were married at the base of the Ninth Avenue stoop, surrounded by friends and the hazy, autumn breeze, after which Abby tossed two bouquets. One was caught by Honey, the other by Roxy, to the excessive delight of their boyfriends. And they all lived, deliriously happy, forever and ever.





About the Author

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author TESSA BAILEY lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her husband and young daughter. When she isn’t writing or reading romance, Tessa enjoys a good argument and thirty-minute recipes.

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