Page 2 of Dating the Billionaire

“Nooo.”

“I’m just kidding. It’s late, son-bear. Get some sleep.” I lean over, give him the usual forehead kiss. I get out of bed to go turn off the light.

“Dada,” Bode whispers in a small voice into the quiet dark, “why are we just a tiny family?”

“Your mom…”

“I know. She’s in heaven.”

Bode was just two when the accident took her. He only remembers glimpses of Meredith, mostly from the pictures he’s seen of her, and the memories that’re tied to them. Memories I tell him over and over, my most sacred, silent vow to him and to her and to me that I will never, ever let them die.

“A family’s bond isn’t defined by how large or how small it is.”

“Huh?”

I chortle softly. He’s dang smart, but I still need to scale my words. “We can be as happy as any family, even one that’s twice as big as ours.”

“It just feels like…”

“Like what, little man?”

“I don’t know.”

Like something is missing. I know. He’s not wrong about that. Over the last few months he’s started to ask questions more often. Why is it just the two of us? Is two enough to be called a family? Why doesn’t he have a brother or a sister—why can’t we get anewmom?

And what even is heaven?

Heck if I know.

I haven’t totally given up. It’s been three years. I’ve tried dating. Spent a small fortune on babysitters and all the apps and of course the actual dinner and shows. Not that I mind about that part. Ihavethe small fortune to spend.

A decade ago, when Meredith and I were young, ambitious newlyweds, I used a portion of my dad’s inheritance to play around in the stock market. Not enough to get us in trouble—even if I’d lost it all. A little is all it took. I struck gold on a few good stocks that turned my thousands intotensof thousands. In my excitement, I began devouring books—learning everything I could about investing. Not lucky investing.Smartinvesting. Tens of thousands became a quarter of a million, then half, then…more.

We were millionaires.

Billionaires, not too long after that.

When Meredith died, I was done focusing onmore. On getting. Growing. Anything. All I cared was I still had Bode.

Thank GodI still had Bode.

But I needed to dosomething—stay busy. Else I’d go insane all too aware of my own inside of my head. I returned to my roots, what my dad used to do, and where I could put my still-somewhat-new investment savvy to good use. I started flipping houses—a passion project I felt I’d earned after selling off most of my stocks. Just me and a crew trying to breathe whatever life we can into this mountain town Bode and I call home.

That’s how I heard about the speed-dating event in town. I was onsite at a house I’d recently flipped—a vacation home for one of the event organizers. I was especially drawn to the part about not wasting endless hours on dating apps, making few connections that still seem to go nowhere.

As a single dad and business owner, I don’t have time for that.

I can do one evening. Five minutes with each date isplentyof time to know if I want to check yes or no.

“Goodnight, son-bear. I love you.”

There’s enough of a glow from the sticky stars to shine against my boy’s face. Bode’s smiling just the way I do. But the mouth that’s doing that, the round cheeks and soft chin…those’re someone else’s features.

Those ever-shining, inquisitive blue eyes—aren’t mine.

“I love you and I like you, Dada.”

“I love you and I like you too.”

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