Page 5 of The Baby Contract With My Hot Billionaire Boss

“The dinner at Mom and Dad’s.” She’s giving me a look like I should know this but I don’t remember setting up a dinner with Mom and Dad. “Chris, this has been a month in planning. You need to be there.”

“What’s so special about dinner this weekend?” I can probably make it work but I’m suspicious about just why she thinks it’s such a big deal.

“Because … I just want everyone there, okay?”

I roll my eyes but agree to show up. If she traipsed all the way down here to tell me about it she must have a reason. Though knowing her, it could be just about anything. Maybe Margie is going to start giving speeches at the local university. Or maybe her husband landed yet another big account. There’s no telling with Wendy.

“Good. We’re going to have dinner at 6:00, all right? Don’t be late.”

“I’ll be there,” I repeat and she practically scurries out the door.

“Who was that?” Ethan asks and I shake my head.

“You remember Wendy, don’t you?”

“Wendy? That was Wendy? She definitely looks different.”

“Yeah, I know. Mom and Dad think Mark is good for her but I don’t agree. He turned her into a pretentious brat.”

Ethan shakes his head right along with me and instead of talking more about Wendy, the conversation turns to the business. Whatever is going on with her, I’ll find out soon enough.

Which is even more true as the rest of the week passes seemingly in a blur and then I’m standing at the door of the house I grew up in.

We have family dinners occasionally. That’s not the issue. It’s just that I know this is going to turn into another opportunity for Wendy to brag and my parents to act like they’re pleased with me as well, even though they’re not.

“Oh, Chris! I’m so glad you made it!”

I give a sharp nod and allow them to lead me inside where Wendy and Mark and Margie are already gathered.

“Uncle Chris!” At least someone is genuinely pleased to see me.

Margie races over as quickly as her chubby five-year-old legs can carry her and gives me a big hug. Despite myself, I can’t help but smile and hug her back.

I’ve never been that big on kids, but there’s certainly something about this little girl. For now I pull a couple pieces of candy out of my pocket (I’ve taken to being that uncle) and hand them over, which she immediately pops in her mouth, despite her parents’ frowns.

“I wish you wouldn’t give her treats like that before we have dinner,” Wendy complains and I just roll my eyes.

It’s only a few minutes more of small talk, which mostly means Mom and Dad and Wendy and Mark discussing everything while Margie and I sit on the couch and I entertain her with some sleight of hand. Then we’re called into the dining room where Mom and Dad choose chairs at either end. Wendy, her husband, and their daughter each sit on Mom’s right. And I sink into the chair on Dad’s left. It’s where we’ve sat since we were children, though we’ve definitely grown up since then.

“I have some news to share,” Wendy says nearly as soon as we’ve all filled our plates and are ready to dig in.

“What is it, Sweetie?” Mom asks and I can tell that Dad is giving her his undivided attention as well.

“Mark was just accepted into the space shuttle program!” She practically squeals and Mark grins as well.

“That’s great news, Sweetie,” Mom tells her, hugging Wendy like it’s her accomplishment instead of Mark’s. I roll my eyes but turn to him with my hand outstretched.

“Great job,” I tell him and he grins even more broadly.

“I’m pretty pleased about it.”

The rest of the evening seems to pass in a blur. Everyone is talking about Mark’s new job. And then we’re talking about Margie’s dance class. And Wendy’s new country club membership. And through it all I catch the sidelong glances from Wendy. And Mom. And a few from Mark as well, though he mostly tries to avoid getting too judgy of my lifestyle.

“Chris, Honey …” I know what that means. It means that there’s certainly something of an intervention coming and I quickly stand up. That’s my cue to get out of here. “We just want to see you find someone special. Someone who will get you to stop all of … this.”

She doesn’t like my life, doesn’t like that I own a club and that I’m there all the time, doesn’t like that I throw parties at my house even when the club isn’t having them. Or that on the nights I do take a woman back to my place it’s always a different one. No attachments. No serious girlfriends. And that’s how I managed to get where I am.

But perhaps if I made a show of it I could get them to lay off.

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