Page 9 of My Bestie's Billionaire Brother

My mother rolls her eyes, nods and quickly changes the subject with practiced ease. "Did you hear about Tess?"

The mention of Tess unexpectedly makes my stomach flip-flop. "I just saw her and Jane at the show last weekend but I don’t know what you’re referring to."

"She broke up with the McNalty boy. James." My mother lowers her voice as if sharing classified information. "They'd been together for nearly two years. Everyone thought they would announce an engagement by Christmas."

"Everyone except Tess, apparently," my father comments dryly.

"What happened?" I ask, trying to sound neutral though I’m intrigued.

My mother leans forward. "Margaret McNalty told me he wanted to move to Boston for some business opportunity, and Tess refused to leave the symphony. Apparently, there was quite the scene at Canlis. She walked out in the middle of dinner."

I find myself oddly impressed.

"Poor dear," my mother continues. "She must be devastated. Her mother says she's thrown herself into her music. Practicing at all hours."

"She always was dedicated," my father notes. "Talented, too. We saw her perform with the symphony last season. She’s quite impressive."

For the rest of dinner, we talk about their upcoming trip to Rome in the fall. Mom is super enthusiastic about it while Dad, as usual, seems to be just tolerating the whole thing.

By the time my mother serves her famous chocolate soufflé (that their chef created of course), I'm mentally exhausted from navigating the conversational minefield. Every seemingly innocent question from my mother contains hidden agendas; every business observation from my father carries the weight of unmet expectations.

"Don't forget the Hendersons' anniversary party next weekend," my mother reminds me as I prepare to leave. "Anddo let us know who you decide to bring to the weddings. I'm sure you'll make a suitable choice." She delivers this with a weak smile that doesn't mask her concern that I might, in fact,notmake a suitable choice.

My father shakes my hand again as I’m leaving. "Think about what I said regarding the McAllister distribution channels. There's an opportunity there beyond the obvious markets."

I nod, promise to consider it, and escape to my car with the weight of thirty-eight years of almost-but-not-quite-good-enough pressing on my shoulders.

My thoughts meld together as I drive home, my parents' expectations still ringing in my ears. I turn the music up in an attempt to shake off the draining evening.

Who am I going to bring to these weddings? The problem seems insurmountable until Tess’s face flashes in my mind.

I nearly miss my exit, swerving at the last moment to catch the off-ramp. A horn blares behind me. My mind is busy processing this unexpected thought of asking Tess to be my date for these weddings.

The light turns green, and I accelerate, my thoughts racing faster than my car.

I pull into my building's garage, the valet nodding in recognition as I slide out of my car and hand him the keys. The elevator ride to my penthouse gives me more time to develop this idea, and by the time I step through my door, it's taken shape into something that feels less like desperation and more like inspiration.

Hans greets me with sleepy enthusiasm, his small body wiggling as he wags his tail. I bend down to scratch his head.

I switch my dress shirt out for a T-shirt and head to the bar cart, pouring myself a nightcap as I continue my mental assessment. My parents have known her for a long time and respect her—my father called her "impressive," for Christ's sake.She comes from a good family, moves in the right circles, but doesn't seem to care too much about any of it. The perfect balance of belonging without trying too hard.

And she's newly single, which means she might be looking for a distraction from her breakup. Four weddings could be exactly what she needs to forget about James McNalty.

I settle onto the sofa, Hans jumping up to join me. The scotch warms my throat as I consider the logistics.

I find myself smiling into my glass. This could work. This couldactuallywork.

Tess would be the perfect date—beautiful enough to turn heads and smart enough to engage in real conversation. Now I just have to convince her to come with me.

"What do you think, Hans?" I ask, looking down at my dog who has fallen asleep beside me. "Is Tess Whitlock the answer to our wedding problem?"

He snores softly in response.

I lean back, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease for the first time since those wedding invitations arrived. It's a perfect plan. And it would be easy. Simple. No messy feelings or expectations. Just two adults helping each other navigate some social obligations.

I head to my bedroom, already mentally rehearsing my approach. Casual but confident. Friendly but not flirtatious. Positioned as a mutually beneficial arrangement rather than a date. It’s the perfect solution.

Chapter 3

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