Page 86 of My Bestie's Billionaire Brother

This is not at all what I expected him to say. I blink, thrown off balance.

"Your mother was ecstatic when she found out she was pregnant with you. I smiled and said all the right things, but inside I was panicking." He takes a sip of water. "I had no idea how to be a father. My own father was..." He pauses, searchingfor the right word. "Distant. Cold. Success was the only currency that mattered to him."

I've never heard my father talk about my grandfather this way. He died when I was young, and in family stories, he's always portrayed as a business genius, the man who turned a small family business into an empire.

"I promised myself I'd be different," my father continues. "More present. More encouraging. But somehow..." He shakes his head, a rueful smile on his lips. "Somehow I became him anyway. Pushing you and Jane to achieve, to succeed, to be perfect—just like my dad pushed me."

My throat tightens unexpectedly. "Dad, you don't have to?—"

"I do," he interrupts, his voice firm but not unkind. "I thought I was teaching you to be successful, but I was just passing down my own fears. I'm sorry I've made you feel like you're a screw-up and you needed to lie to me about your relationship with Tess to attempt to look like you have your shit together."

The profanity sounds strange coming from my father's usually formal mouth. I can count on one hand the number of times I've heard him swear.

"I didn't know how to tell you that you were enough just as you were," he says, his voice dropping. "Because no one ever told me that. All I knew was how to push and I thought that's what love looked like."

I'm speechless, staring at this man I've known my whole life and somehow never really known at all. My critical, demanding, impossible-to-please father looks vulnerable right now. And I’m shocked.

"Why are you telling me this now?" I manage.

He meets my eyes directly. "Because you're about to become a father yourself. And I don't want you carrying my mistakes into your relationship with your children."

Children. Plural. Twins. The reality of it hits me again. Hard.

"I'm afraid I'll mess them up," I admit, the confession slipping out before I can stop it.

"I said the exact same thing to my father," he replies. "Do you know what he told me?"

I shake my head.

"He said, 'Just don't be like me.'" My father's laugh is short, without humor. "That was his only advice."

"That doesn't exactly help," I say.

"No, it doesn't." He leans forward, elbows on the table, which is also so unlike him. "So I'll give you better advice: Love them. Show up for them. Tell them they're enough exactly as they are. And when you mess up—because you will, we all do – apologize and try to do better."

I try to swallow past the lump in my throat.

"It’s simple advice, I know. But it's not always easy." He straightens, and I can see him struggling to maintain this unusual openness. "You and Tess will figure it out. The fact that you're worried about being a good father already puts you ahead of where I was."

"You always seemed so sure of yourself, Dad, like you had all the answers."

His lips twist into a wry smile. "The best act I ever put on. Inside, I was constantly second-guessing myself. Still am, sometimes."

This admission, this glimpse behind the infallible facade my father has maintained my entire life, rocks my world. Bill Astor, unsure? Doubting himself? It's like finding out the Earth isn't round after all.

"So you're not...disappointed? About how Tess and I started?" I ask, still not quite believing his reaction.

He shrugs. "People find each other in all sorts of ways. What matters is where you end up, not how you got there."

I laugh, surprised by his pragmatic take. "That's one way to look at it."

He cuts another piece of steak. "Now, tell me more about these twins. Do you know if they're boys or girls yet?"

As I begin to answer, I realize I'm having a real conversation with my father for what feels like the first time in my adult life. Not a business discussion, not a lecture disguised as advice, but an actual exchange between two men. Two flawed, imperfect men just trying to do their best.

Andthatis more valuable than any business lesson he's ever taught me.

When lunch is over, I step out of Meridian into the unexpected sunshine of a Seattle afternoon, blinking against the brightness.

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