Page 12 of Baby Surprise for my Brother's Best Friend

“And living with Sophie Henderson?” Her tone is half-wary, half-intrigued. “TheSophie Henderson?”

I groan. “Yes,thatSophie.”

Luciana’s brows lift. “The same one you ghosted?”

“Luciana,” I warn. "Besides, the ghosting was mutual."

She shrugs. “What? I’m just saying, karma wears heels."

I rub a hand over my face. “It’s temporary. Six months. I keep my head down, play nice, and maybe,maybe,Dad lets me back into the kingdom.”

“Or maybe this is the universe telling you it’s time to grow the hell up.”

That one lands harder than I want to admit.

Luciana softens. “You’ve been lucky, Les. Too lucky. Maybe this time, you’re supposed to earn something real.”

That’s something I have wanted for so long. But how do you do that? How do you prove to everyone else that you are more than just your father’s son? More than your brother’s little screw-up brother? My successes were never enough to outshine Val, never enough to make me be seen, to make me important.

Not even to myself.

So, it is easier to pretend I don’t care, to live life as a screw-up, life it big and say fuck you, world. Pocket daddy dearest’s money and just throw it away in parties and randos that leave me empty and hollow as each new day dawns.

But at least this way, they see me. Just not a good me. Not the real me. But I’m noticed.

I hate that it can’t be for the right reasons, that the right reasons aren’t enough, but still…

"Alright. Bye. It was nice talking to you too. Good luck in finding yourself in that town in the middle of nowhere," I tell her in a hurried voice.

I love my little sister but sometimes, I feel like she's too wise for her age.

She doesn't remember anything about our mother as she was too young when mom passed. So, she'd decided to move to some hick town thinking it would bring her closer to our mother. It's been more than a year since we saw each other in person.

God, I miss her.

Luciana signs off with a wink and a middle finger, and I’m left staring at my half-packed bag.

***

I arrive at the apartment with my duffel slung over my shoulder like I’m some college dropout showing up late for orientation. I'm greeted by the bellboy opening the door.

He slides a stick of gum into his breast pocket as a tip.

The grand foyer reeks of disinfectant and corporate sterility. Zero charm, zero fun, all business.

Perfect match for her.

I knock, sharp and deliberate.

The door swings open, and there she is.

Sophie Henderson.

Her dark hair’s pulled into a sleek ponytail, not a strand out of place. She’s wearing a black blazer over skintight leggings that leave nothing to the imagination, and trust me, my imagination isveryactive.

The curve of her hips strains against the fabric with a promise that doesn’t belong in any professional setting. The top two buttons of her blouse are undone, revealing a subtle hint of cleavage that nearly derails my brain.

She looks like the hottest disciplinary committee chair I’ve ever seen, and I’d happily accept detention.

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