Page 100 of Baby Surprise for my Brother's Best Friend

It almost does.

But there’s still a part of me, buried, jagged, unresolved, that keeps whispering fears in the quiet.

I turn toward him, my voice barely audible.

“What if I’m not built for both?”

I’m not even sure what I mean. Love and career… or Alessio and a future without him?

All I know is, the closer I get to having everything, the more I’m afraid of losing it all.

22

ALESSIO

I wipe down the bar in steady passes, the motion hypnotic, almost meditative.

The beat of the club pulses low and heavy in my chest, vibrating through my ribs like a second heartbeat. Neon lights flicker over the marble counter, casting a wash of red and blue across my hands.

It’s not the chaos I used to crave, the rooftop parties, the scandal, the press. This is quieter. Simpler.

Mine.

I never thought slinging cocktails behind a bar could feel like a kind of power. But tonight, it does.

Until hollow temptation walks in, long legs, glossy lips, and hunger in eyes that used to be my fuel. A group of them cluster near the end of the bar, laughing too loud, sipping overpriced cocktails, and shooting looks my way like I’m still the guy who might bite.

Boyfriends shift beside them, stiff with jealousy, but the women don’t care. They lean forward, licking salt from theirrims, tossing out flirty questions like, “So, do you come with the drink menu?”

A few months ago, I might’ve entertained it. Played the game.

Now?

They don’t hold a candle to Sophie.

And that’s the most dangerous shift of all.

As the last stragglers have stumbled out, laughter echoes off the brick walls as the front door shuts behind them. The bass has dulled to a low hum, barely more than a vibration beneath the floorboards.

I flip the bar towel over my shoulder and pour myself a bourbon. Just one.

Nikolai’s already perched at the corner of the bar, a glass of something darker in his hand. I take a seat beside him.

“Not bad for a Wednesday.” He swirls the liquid with a lazy flick of his wrist.

I grunt, leaning back against the counter. “I didn’t screw up any orders or start a fight. That’s a win.”

He chuckles. “Low bar, Marchetti.”

We’re mid-laugh when the door creaks open again.

My eyes snap toward the entrance.

The last two girls I was with before this whole thing changed my life for the better.

They are silhouetted in the glow of the exit sign, sauntering toward us like they never left. Tight dresses. Dangerous smiles.

Here we go.

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