Page 6 of Wish For Me

“They do.” It’s just nothing like the internship in France. I swallow. “They also have business classes. Which will come in handy when I open my own bakery.”

I think he might actually start screaming. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this upset. His normally pale skin is mottled red. “You don’t want to open your own bakery,” he says through gritted teeth. “You want to be a pastry chef in a Michelin star restaurant and build your reputation and become the most famous celebrity chef in the world.”

Okay. I may have said something like that once. Or twice.

“I can still do all that. I don’t have to go to France.”

“I can’t believe this,” he seethes. “You’re really going to give it all up because you’re so fucking co-dependent on your cousins—”

“Fuck off, Pierre.”

“You’ve lived down the street from them for seventeen years, Vega. Do you really need to live in the same dorm as them for the next four?”

“I don’t—”

“When is it enough? Are you going to all get a big house together after college? Live in a commune when you start to get married and have kids? Or are those things off the table, too? What else do you plan to give up for them?”

I spin to fully face him, barely able to hear the noises of the party over the pounding of my heart.

“I realize that there is no one in this world that you actually give a shit about,” I snarl. “So this may be hard for you to get. But I am not sacrificing anything. If I make plans to stay close to my family, I do so because that’s what I want. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be with people who love me instead of spending a year in a foreign city, alone.”

His glare tells me he’s just as angry as I am. “There areplentyof people I give a shit about.” He takes a step closer and I have the strangest urge to run the hell away. “And you wouldn’t be alone.Iwould be there.”

I let out a strangled, high-pitched laugh. “I’m sorry, is that supposed to be a selling point? What on earth makes you think I want to be anywhere near you?”

He takes a step back. For once, the unaffected, “I’m too good to care about anything” expression is gone. He actually looks…hurt.

Like, really hurt.

“Peter,” I mutter, my stomach dropping as confusion swirls in me. I don’t know why he looks like that. I don’t know why I care.

Before I can figure out what to say, a skinny arm is slung over my shoulder. I don’t have to turn my head to know it’s CeCe, my cousin, or to know she’s glaring at the boy standing in front of me. “Is someone bothering you?”

“He better not be,” a male voice says from her side—Cade, another cousin. I wonder if it’s just the two of them or if this stare down has attracted the attention of all four of my best friends.

The four best friends he just accused me of being co-dependent on.

“He’s not bothering me,” I manage through a suddenly dry throat.

Peter stares at me, eyes dark and angry, ignoring my cousins completely. “You’re making a mistake,” he finally says. “And you know it.”

“Hey, asshole,” CeCe starts, but Peter is already turning on his heel and marching away, his tall black-clad form easily parting the crowd as he goes.

“What the hell was that?” Cade asks and I have to force myself to stop watching Peter’s retreating back.

“I have absolutely no idea.”

FROM THE RANSOM COUSINS GROUP TEXT THREAD

(ONE YEAR LATER)

Everly:Happy wedding month, everyone!!

River:Why are you wishing us a happy wedding month, you’re the one getting married.

Bodhi:Me joining this family is a gift to all of you.

Everly:We are ten days away, people. Ten days!