Page 251 of The Billionaires

Jane's mother grins at Leo. “Once they have a baby, that should be your favorite human.”

“Mom!” Jane says sternly and turns a delicious shade of crimson. “We’re not even married yet.”

Hmm. A baby with Jane. I’m not sure how I feel about that joke—but I do know I’d rather Jane didn’t act as though it would be the end of civilization as we know it.

“Can you stop saying gross things so that we can get back to their stories?” Mary says to Georgiana petulantly. Turning to me, she asks, “What’s the fanciest restaurant you’ve ever taken Jane to?”

This one is easy, so Jane and I take turns telling them about last night’s sushi experience and how we’re now banned from the place.

Mary’s interrogation—I mean, friendly questions—continue.

She demands to know ever more obscure details of our imaginary courtship, and we make it up as we go.

Jane seems a little annoyed as she replies to her little sister, but I’m grateful. Thanks to this, no one will be able to stump us in the same way. The crazy stories we make up are very memorable.

I’m in the middle of the story of how Jane got stuck in a washing machine at my place during a game of hide-and-seek gone wrong when I get a text.

“Ah,” I say, looking up from the phone. “Jane’s modiste is on her way to my place.”

Mary cocks her head. “Does that mean you have to go?”

“Sorry,” I say.

Mary sighs. “You’ll just have to come back. I have so many more questions.”

She does? At this point, the only thing she doesn’t know is my social security number, my cholesterol levels, and the position of Mercury when Jane and I had our first (and rather fictional) kiss.

“Maybe he will come back, maybe he won’t,” Jane says. “You can always ask me all the questions.”

Mary rolls her eyes. “You’ll only tell me the stories that make you look good.”

Jane gives me a suffering look that seems to say, “See what I have to deal with?”

Georgiana leaps to her feet. “Thank you so much for coming to meet us.”

“The pleasure was mine.” I catch Leo, attach his leash back to his collar, and ask Jane, “How long do you need to get ready?”

“I can go now,” Jane says. “Especially considering that I’ll be getting a new outfit.”

Georgiana and Mary pepper us with questions about tonight’s event all the way down the staircase and as we walk to the limo.

When we pull away, finally by ourselves, Jane says, “I’m sorry about all that.”

“I’m not. I loved your family.” It’s true—and not just because I have none of my own. They clearly love each other dearly and enjoy each other’s presence, which wasn’t the case in my family even while my parents were alive.

Jane puts a hand on my thigh. “You miss your parents, don’t you?”

“Am I that transparent?” I ask, grimacing.

“We don’t have to talk about this if you’re not comfortable,” she says.

I sigh. “I still miss them terribly, but I feel guilty because I miss Mom much more. Dad and I had a complex relationship.”

Then again, is it complex when you’re someone’s disappointment, or is it tragically simple? In contrast to Dad, Mom was proud of all the different things I was interested in, without needing me to become a master at any one trade.

“Nothing to feel guilty about,” Jane says softly. “I don’t even know my dad, so I only care about what happens to my mom.”

I force a smile—albeit a weak one. “Between this and your sister’s questions, I think we can pass for having dated for six months.”

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