I Do

by A. J. Pine

  Griffin thought about his first date with Maggie and their repurposing of UNO cards into a Truth or Dare kind of game—minus the dare. A WILD card meant the bearer could ask the other anything he or she wanted, big or small, and the question had to be answered with the complete and utter truth.

  But Maggie shouldn’t have to draw a card to get that from him. He needed to trust her, to offer it willingly, to give her everything.

  Not just the WILD card. Griffin was going full deck. All in.

  Chapter Twelve

  Miles

  “Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” Maggie asked, and Miles made an exaggerated effort to examine his neatly trimmed fingernails.

  “Manis and pedis, Mags? I mean, I am well-groomed, but I draw the line at spending money for someone else to do what I can do for myself.”

  She shrugged. “I’m just flattered the bridal party invited me along. Plus, it’s Elaina’s cousin, so it won’t cost much.”

  “So there’s still going to be a wedding?” he asked as Jordan strode up behind Maggie.

  “I don’t know,” Jordan said. “Elaina is pissed. I told her the guys found Duncan and are bringing him back. Noah said he wasn’t ditching her, that he’d actually been hurt and detained and was afraid to tell her about it in a text. They were rushing to get their flights figured out. But no matter what I say to her, she just gets angrier.”

  “Why?” Maggie asked.

  “Because Duncan called Griffin instead of her. Look, all I know is she’s going through with everything that was on the docket for today. And if Duncan shows up…I mean when he shows up…” Jordan hesitated, winding a lock of hair around her finger until the tip turned white.

  “Whoa,” Miles started, watching Jordan fidget where she stood. “I’m sensing I’m about to get more drama than I bargained for.”

  Maggie backhanded him on the shoulder.

  “What?” he said with a laugh. “I’m just glad the spotlight’s off of me.”

  “It’s okay,” Jordan said. “He’s right. I am being a little dramatic. It’s just…Duncan and Elaina? They’re the ones who got it right from the start, you know? Zero drama. He liked her. She pretended for maybe five minutes not to like him, and then bam. Perfect couple. And now?” She shrugged. “They’re going to be fine, right? If he was never thinking of bailing, then they’re still the model couple.”

  Miles nodded to Maggie, but he wasn’t smiling anymore. “This is why I keep my distance, Mags.” Then he turned to Jordan. “Look, I’m sorry if I seem like an insensitive asshole, but I’m good without the whole mani-pedi thing, and I’m good without”—he waved his hand in the air—“the drama of will they or won’t they.”

  Miles kissed Maggie on the cheek and backed toward the rear of the restaurant.

  “I’m gonna go walk on the beach.” Clear my head.

  Maggie glanced out the window and then back at him. “It’s not as warm as it looks out there. I think the taxi driver said it was just below forty degrees.”

  Miles zipped his black leather jacket over his hoodie, then winked at her and grinned.

  “I know people who’ve hitchhiked in worse.”

  She rolled her eyes, and that was enough to convince him she wouldn’t push him to share what the hell was up his ass—because, honestly, he wasn’t 100 percent sure. He was just…off.

  So what if somewhere in this city was a guy who’d driven him crazy in an airplane bathroom? Somewhere in this city—right. Like Miles had the city to hide him. Come this evening, Alex would probably be working the party. What were the odds that a restaurant’s sous chef was not working the owner’s own daughter’s wedding? When he’d walked into that bathroom with a stranger, he expected to part just the same. But something happened in that confined space, in that miniature pocket of time, and it wasn’t about the foreplay that almost was.

  He watched as Jordan pulled Maggie toward the group of women who were converting part of the restaurant into a miniature salon. Then he exited to what was, for the season, an unused patio.

  The wind was brisk, but the cold air felt good. It felt like freedom.

  He threw up his hood and headed toward the water.

  He breathed in the salty air, making it close enough to the shore for a fine mist to spray his cheeks.

  “You are a grade-A asshole,” he told himself. But that? He glanced back toward the restaurant. That was why he was no good at weddings. Watching two people pledge their lives to each other made him long for something he’d convinced himself a long time ago wasn’t in the cards for him. And watching an almost-couple like Duncan and Elaina almost not make it? All it did was remind him that wanting something and holding onto it were mutually exclusive. He’d experienced that firsthand. So he taught himself not to want anything more than fun, and that was working out pretty well for him. Did he want Duncan and Elaina to crash and burn? Of course not. Did he see that as more of a possibility than Maggie and Jordan did? Sure. But he didn’t need to spread his jadedness all over their hope for a happy ending.

  After a few deep breaths, he turned to walk a stretch of the hotel-lined beach. Short white buildings bordered the sand, and even in the cool weather there were tourists enjoying coffee on a balcony and a couple a few yards off removing their shoes to dip their toes in the surf.

  He jumped back as a wave rolled in, coming closer than the rest. Then he laughed at himself for being afraid of the consequences of making contact with the water. What did that say about his emotional state? He could write his doctoral thesis analyzing it, but with only five months to go in his program, it probably wasn’t wise to change topics now.

  He checked his phone. There were a few hours before he had to get ready for the rehearsal dinner—provided it was still happening. He’d run inside and make sure Maggie was cool with him taking off for a bit, and then? He’d just walk.

  As he started to hike back up to the patio, he spotted a figure leaning against the restaurant’s concrete ivory facade. The guy stood with one leg crossed over the other and his arms folded in front of his chest. After nodding in Miles’s direction, the man took a drag from the cigarette dangling from his lips and then reached for it with his right hand. He waited to speak until Miles was in earshot.

  “Did you know?” Alex asked, an almost-smile playing at his lips. “You weren’t surprised when I told you my name in the airport. Did you know who I was?”

  Miles played with the idea of a lie, but that wasn’t him. No matter what came of this situation, he was nothing if not upfront.

  He retrieved Alex’s business card from his pocket and held it up for him to see.

  Alex nodded slowly. “So why not tell me? You sat there the rest of the flight pretending you didn’t know this might happen.”

  That was a legitimate question. But what was he going to do? Tell this stranger that kissing him in an airplane bathroom felt anything but strange? That he’d let his guard down long enough to wonder what it would be like to kiss this man again only because he’d thought he was safe from that ever happening. And now here he was, staring at those lips again, wanting what he shouldn’t want.

  “It’s complicated,” was all he said, and he rolled his eyes at himself. God, he hated that word, hated that he’d become the kind of guy who used it as an excuse to shut down.

  Alex took a long, slow drag of the cigarette, then turned his head to the side to exhale.

  “We were on a fucking plane, Miles. Strangers on a goddamned plane. We could have had a nice chat about what I do, about how you know the Tripoli family. It’s just talking,” Alex said. “You sat there the whole time knowing who I was, knowing my name…”

  Miles studied his own shoes before looking at him again.

  “I know,” he said. “I’m just— I liked you. I like you now. And I don’t want to.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Liking a stranger is one thing. We meet. We make out. We never see each other again. And I may wonder, What if? But there’s nothing I can do a
bout it. But knowing your name and that I might bump into you again? That changed the game.”

  That almost-smile that threatened to undo Miles on the spot disappeared completely.

  “I’m not playing a game, Miles.” Alex shook his head. “You’re a piece of work,” he added. “So sorry for your predicament.”

  Jesus, he was doing this all wrong. But something about this guy made him do ridiculous things like say exactly what he was thinking and want to press him up against the building and kiss him again.

  Alex straightened, took another drag, and then pushed off the wall.

  “Vlakas,” he said. “You knew we’d see each other. We could have made a fun weekend of it, no expectations. But since things are so complicated, I’ll leave you to your brooding on the beach. I’ve met enough guys like you, Miles. I don’t need complicated, either.” Alex strode off around the side of the building.

  Miles wasn’t the type to chase after anyone. But he found himself following Alex, telling himself it was for no other reason than to clear the air, if only to avoid Alex sneezing in his soup later that night. It had nothing to do with those lips, the ones he could still taste if he closed his eyes.

  “Hey, Alex. Wait a minute. I didn’t mean I was playing games with you.”

  Alex extinguished the cigarette on the side of the building and tossed it in one of the many trash bins that hid behind a short wall next to a door.

  “Are you here to complicate things?” Alex asked, shaking his head as his lips parted in a smile. Then he laughed, a genuine laugh, and for a second Miles forgot what he came here to say. All he wanted was that smile to stay right where it was and for those full lips to take his again.

  Fucking focus, Miles.

  “No,” he said. “Maybe. I don’t know what vlakas means, but I’m sure I deserved it. I guess I just wanted to say that I’m usually much better at not being complicated.”

  “I don’t know you,” Alex started. “I don’t know what you deserve. Vlakas—stupid—that was for me.” He paused. “Because I liked you, too.” He ran a hand through his thick, sandy hair, and Miles clenched his fists at his sides, willing them not to relive the feeling of those locks against his own skin.

  Seriously, Miles. Do not let one stranger throw you off your game. Not that it’s a game. Shit. He was already in over his head, which was brand-new territory, considering how safe he’d been playing it for years.

  “It’s not as if I asked you to marry me in an airplane toilet.”

  Miles chuckled. He didn’t mean to, but the thought made him wonder how many proposals did happen in such a location.

  “I know,” Miles said. “But—”

  Alex shook his head, cutting him off. “Or move in with me,” he added. “What gives you the right to think I expected any more from what happened than you did?”

  Okay, Miles thought. Now you’re a grade-A asshole. Because Alex was right. He hadn’t asked Miles for anything other than a few minutes of fun. Miles hadn’t withheld the truth about knowing who he was because of Alex’s expectations. He’d done it because he was terrified of his own.

  “Why don’t you have an accent?” he asked.

  “What?” Alex’s dark brows pulled together, and Miles took small pleasure in catching him off guard.

  “I could tell you weren’t American,” he said. “But your accent is so slight, I wasn’t sure you were Greek until you translated for that woman on the plane.”

  Alex pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door next to him, pausing in the frame before stepping into what Miles could see was the restaurant’s kitchen.

  Miles stepped inside after him.

  “What are you doing?” Alex asked, the corners of his mouth curling up again.

  Miles shrugged. “I’m not expecting a proposal—or for you to ask me to move in with you. But it seems a shame for us to profess our like for each other and then walk away.”

  Alex nodded and backed farther into the kitchen.

  “My father is Greek, my mother American. They never married. He lives here, and she lives in New York. After spending my summers in the U.S., I decided to stay for university. Hence the accent—or lack thereof.”

  Alex took one more step back, then turned and walked farther into the building. He left the door open.

  This was an invitation. For what, though? Miles wasn’t about to ask. He wasn’t going to overthink. He was just going to accept.

  He turned back to the door and pulled it closed behind him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Maggie

  Maggie examined her cherry red nails, a bold contrast from their usual unpolished state. She smiled at the hustle and bustle around her. Despite the way the day had started, the bride was enjoying herself. There was a hopefulness in the air Maggie hadn’t felt only an hour before, and she couldn’t help but get caught up in it all, in what it meant to be here with Griffin—in how far they’d come the past year. This trip would be proof that she could step out of her comfort zone without any major issues. She had feared exhaustion or worse—a migraine—after the long trip, but she’d slept so well on the plane she wasn’t sure she was even jet-lagged. And even with Miles off being moody on the beach, she was okay. Jordan treated her like they’d been friends for years, and Maggie took satisfaction in knowing she could shake up her world a bit and still be okay.

  Ambrosia was closed for the weekend for wedding festivities, but that didn’t mean the kitchen wasn’t running at full force. As each girl finished getting her nails done, she was escorted to another corner of the restaurant where a table was covered with Greek delicacies. Maggie snacked on grilled vegetables with tzatziki, unable to suppress her grin with each bite. If she had to wait for Jordan to finish her manicure, she couldn’t think of a better way to do it. While some of Elaina’s relatives spoke English, the conversation around her was all in Greek, so Maggie smiled and nodded whenever someone looked in her direction, but she was happy for the respite amid all of the commotion.

  Her phone buzzed on the table next to her, and her heart leaped. She hadn’t realized until then how much she wished Griffin were there to experience this morning of firsts with her—first time away from Minneapolis since she’d been on her own again, first time out of the country, first time thinking she wouldn’t always be afraid of more firsts. But when she looked at her screen, she found it was only Miles.

  Miles: You doing okay?

  Maggie: Yeah, you? Hey, where are you?

  While she was grateful to Miles for joining them on the trip, the whole wedding thing seemed to have him bent out of shape. And in the four years she’d known him, Miles Parker was never one to be ruffled by anyone or anything.

  Miles: I’m getting a tour of the kitchen.

  Maggie: Please explain.

  Miles: *sigh* Remember the guy from the plane?

  Maggie: You mean the guy who visibly rocked your socks at the gate? Yeah. I think we all remember.

  Miles: Alex. He’s sort of the sous chef at Ambrosia.

  Maggie let out a small giggle, thinking, See? This day is so going to end up better than it started.

  Maggie: No further explanation needed. Enjoy yourself.

  Miles: You sure you’re okay without me?

  She took a selfie, holding up a manicured hand for him to see and making sure she captured the table of food behind her. Then she pressed send.

  Miles: Looks like you are being very well taken care of.

  Maggie: And I’m drinking Turkish coffee. Holy caffeine. I may be up for days.

  Miles: I’ll see you soon, then?

  Maggie: No rush. Enjoy yourself.

  Miles: I think I will.

  Jordan plopped down in the seat next to her. “Griffin?”

  Maggie shook her head. “Miles. Remember the guy from the plane, or after the plane, I should say?”

  Jordan giggled. “Uh, I don’t think any of us will forget witnessing a kiss like that.”

  “Well,” Maggie continu
ed. “Looks like he’s the one in the kitchen making all of this amazing food.”

  “Get out!” Jordan’s eyes widened. “Maybe this is a sign, you know? Like, everyone will get a happy ending, even Miles!” She sighed. “The guys will land, get Duncan here, and everything will be fine, right? This whole wedding thing has to happen.”

  Maggie smiled and took a sip of her coffee. She couldn’t explain it—her unwavering confidence—but she knew there was no way they’d leave Greece without seeing a wedding.

  “It’s going to happen,” she said.

  Jordan looked at Maggie’s small coffee mug and wrinkled her nose.

  “Elaina tried for a full year to get me to drink her coffee, but I never did.”

  Maggie swirled the remnants of the liquid in her cup before polishing it off. “It’s really good,” she said. “Strong, but good.”

  “And she is going to try it now.” Elaina strode up behind Jordan’s chair, placing her hands on her friend’s shoulders. Jordan swallowed hard, and Maggie laughed.

  “Oh my goodness,” Maggie said. “It’s just coffee.”

  Elaina bent, draping her arms over Jordan’s shoulders and resting her chin on her head.

  “But this one is a pussy lightweight,” Elaina informed her. “She cannot handle her liquor, which means she probably cannot handle her coffee.”

  Maggie laughed. Jordan’s lips pursed into a pout.

  “Why is everyone ganging up on me for my beverage intake?” She raised her brows in Elaina’s direction. “I’d expect it from this one, but you, too, Maggie?”

  Maggie laughed, and Elaina kissed Jordan on the cheek before straightening up again.

  “Papa?” Elaina’s father was at the other end of the table replenishing an almost empty tray.

  He looked up, and his eyes shone when he gazed at his daughter. “What do you need, koritsi mou?”

  Maggie let out a wistful sigh. The closest thing to a father she ever had was her grandpa. But he was gone now, and Gran was in Florida. She realized that her immediate family consisted of Miles and Griffin, and the thought both terrified and delighted her.