Page 22 of Her Brother's Billionaire Best Friend

I sympathized. Deeply.

“Roy, Deena, I wanted you tomeet my sister,” Scott said, putting a hand on my back to push mecloser to the table. “This is Charlotte.”

Deena looked between Scott and me withan expression of joyous disbelief. “No. No! This can’t be littleCharlotte. Oh my god.” She got up from her seat and hugged me whileI held my plate out at my side to avoid sloshing breakfast all overher. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“I keep hearing that. Fromeveryone,” I said, carefully stepping back. Scott gave me a look,and I realized what I’d said, but before he could ask who“everyone” was, Deena started pushing plates and cups around on thetable.

“Scoot over, scoot over,”she told the elderly woman sitting to her right.

“Oh, no, that’s okay, Ican—” I began.

“Nonsense, we’re familynow,” Deena insisted. “Roy, get her a chair.”

“No, really I—”

But before I knew it, Scott had grabbeda chair for me and shoved it into place between the two women. Ihesitantly sat and put my plate on the white tablecloth.

“Wehaveheard a lot about you,” Deena reiterated. “Scott just lovesyou. I told Lauren she’s lucky you’re his sister or he’d probablybe marrying you.”

“That’s gross,” I blurted inhorror.

Scott laughed, overly loud. “Well, I’mgoing to let you get to know each other—”

I shot him a murderous look.

He refused to meet my gaze. “And I’mgoing to go find my bride.”

God, the way he said it. His bride.Gag. Insinuated incest aside, I was deeply offended at the notionthat I would ever marry anybody who referred to me as his “bride.”It felt so old-fashioned.

Then again, I got the feeling thepeople at this table would be way into “old-fashioned.” None ofthem were under sixty, and all the women were wearing at least onepiece of bear-themed jewelry.

Deena had little bear paw studearrings.

The old woman on my other side put aveiny hand on my wrist. “Are you the one who gave Scott the bonemarrow, dear?”

My stomach turned. “No. That was astranger from the national registry.”

The old woman looked to Deena. “Whatdid she say? I couldn’t hear her.”

“Not her, Sue,” Deenapractically shouted past me. “They had her to give him bone marrow.But she wasn’t a match.”

My face burned with anger andembarrassment. Why the hell had he told them about that? Why did hethink anyone outside our family needed to know that I’d shot out ofour mom’s vagina a fully formed failure?

Worse, Sue, whoever she was, hadn’theard correctly the first time, and Deena had to repeat it, louder.Loud enough that people at other tables heard it.

I should get a fuckingT-shirt made.

“But that’s why they hadher, wasn’t it?” the old woman responded, pointing at me with herother hand while still holding a firm grip on my wrist. “For thebone marrow?”

“Yes, but she wasn’t amatch,” Deena said, enunciating every word painfully.

I wanted to sink into thefloor.

“Charlotte?”

I looked up, not sure if I was gratefulto see Matthew there or not. It all depended on if he planned torescue me.

“You’re Charlotte?” heasked, and he was a good actor. Nobody would have suspected that wealready knew each other. “I’m Matt. Ashe. I’m your brother’s bestman.”

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