Page 43 of My Bestie's Billionaire Brother

“I waited for you for a while after the show but you didn’t come out. And I needed to run home and feed Hans.”

“Oh, sorry about that. We had some notes to run through before I was able to leave.”

“No worries,” he responds, giving me a crooked smile. “I figured that’s what happened.”

An awkward silence stretches between us as I fill a vase with water, arranging the flowers with an unnecessary amount of detail. When I turn back, Charlie is standing in the middle of my living room looking both out of place and somehow right where he belongs.

"Tess," he starts, then stops, running a hand through his dirty blonde hair. "About the wedding?—"

"I'm sorry," I blurt out. "I was rude. You didn't deserve that."

He looks surprised. "I was going to ask what happened. One minute we everything was going great, and the next you couldn't get away fast enough."

I place the vase on my coffee table, buying time. The truth feels too vulnerable, but I owe him this much at least. "Claire said some things. About you."

Understanding dawns on his face. "Let me guess—the playboy cautionary tale?"

I nod, sinking onto my couch. "She said you have a habit of making women feel special until you lose interest."

Charlie sighs heavily and sits beside me, leaving enough space that we're not touching, but close enough that I can smell his intoxicating cologne. "Can I be honest with you?"

"Please." It comes out smaller than I intended.

"I used to be that guy," he says, looking at his hands rather than at me. "The one who dated casually and moved on quickly. I'm not proud of it, but I'm not going to deny it either. Plus, you already know all this through Jane."

His candor catches me off guard. I'd expected deflection, maybe even charm—not this straightforward admission. "And now?"

"Now..." He looks up, meeting my eyes. "Now I'm thirty-eight, and I'm tired of surface-level connections. I run a company that keeps me busy eighteen hours a day, I have way too many social commitments and I..." He hesitates. "I can't stop thinking about a cellist who keeps me at arm's length."

My breath catches. "Charlie?—"

"I know I have a reputation," he continues. "I earned it. But people change, Tess. At least, I have." He reaches for my hand, stopping just short of taking it. "The night after our first wedding—it wasn't just another night for me. I’m sorry we didn’t talk about it afterwards. I wanted to but—I just didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what you were thinking…

I look at his outstretched hand, thinking about that night. Wanting to have that again with him, but…

"How do I know this isn't just..." I gesture vaguely.

"Just what?" His voice is gentle.

"A challenge. The thrill of the chase."

Something flashes in his eyes—hurt, maybe. "Is that what you think I’m looking for?"

I shrug, uncomfortable with my own honesty. "I don't know what to think. We've known each other for years, but not really. You've always been Jane's charming older brother who dates models and socialites. I honestly never thought we’d be having this conversation."

"Maybe that's exactly why I can't stop thinking about you," he says. "You're real, Tess. Do you know how rare that is in my world?"

I want to believe him. God, I want to. But Jane and Claire's warning mingles with my own insecurities, creating a feeling of doubt. "I'm not good at casual," I admit. "I'm not built that way."

"I'm not asking for casual," Charlie says, finally taking my hand. His is warm, engulfing mine. "I'm asking for a chance. A real one."

His touch makes it hard to think straight. I study his face, looking for any sign of insincerity, but all I see is openness—vulnerability even—in those blue eyes.

"I thought this past weekend we could start over. Until?—"

"Until I shut you down," I finish, wincing at the memory. "I'm sorry. I got spooked."

He nods in understanding.

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