Page 51 of If You Give a Billionaire a Bride

“The part where you tell me how irresponsible I’ve been and how disappointed you are in me. Not just as my boss but also as my brother, and that if I don’t get my act together, I’m fired.” I sigh heavily. “You have every right to be mad at me.”

Harrison has had to bail me out of several sticky situations, and if there’s one thing to push him past his breaking point, it’s probably my impulsive decision to get married. So I’m bracing myself for the worst.

He doesn’t reply as he picks up a pen on his desk, clicking it while watching me with his icy blue gaze.

I bite my tongue, trying to be patient, but I’m practically bouncing in my chair when he finally speaks.

“I’m not mad,” he states.

I give him a puzzled look. “You aren’t?”

He shakes his head. “No, but I worried about you. How are you holding up?”

“I feel like I screwed all this up,” I admit. “And I know that’s what you’ve grown to expect from me.” I sigh, casting my eyes down to my lap. “I’m not wired like you and Dylan. I wish I were, but I’m not.”

I didn’t plan on having this conversation with Harrison today, but if I’m being honest, it’s long overdue.

“Why is that?” he questions.

“You command every boardroom you step into, and Dylan is a mathematical genius everyone admires. I’m the college dropout who has the position I do because I’m your brother.”

Not to mention, they’re both good-looking, whereas I’m flawed. The one who everyone feels bad for when they see us all together.

“You honestly believe that?” A somber expression crosses Harrison’s face. “Is it frustrating when you don’t log on for work on time or that you put more energy into your extracurriculars than your job? Absolutely.”

I nod slowly, swallowing a lump in my throat. His brutal honesty is a hard pill to swallow, but everything he says is true.

“However, I promoted you because you have a talent for connecting with our employees, not because we’re related.” He taps his pen against his desk as he speaks. “You might not know this, but shortly after your accident, I overheard Mom and Dad express their concern to the doctor that you might lose your sense of humor and outgoing personality when you recovered. I didn’t have the same concern.”

He’s right about me having never heard this before. After I woke up, I was disoriented for a while. I remember my mom crying a lot, but overall, my parents maintained a strong front.

“Why not?” I ask, my voice filled with curiosity.

“Because you’re one of the strongest people I know,” Harrisons replies with conviction. “The following week, you proved me right when Dad went to use the restroom in your hospital suite and discovered too late that you had covered the toilet bowl with Saran Wrap.” He chuckles at the memory. “I’ve never seen Mom and Dad so conflicted about whether to punish you or celebrate that you were back to your old self.”

When I woke up from the induced coma the doctors had put me under after my accident, I didn’t feel any different. But I knew something was wrong when my parents, siblings, and friends looked at me with pity, sympathy, or a mix of both. The nerve and tissue damage was extensive, and the country’s leading plastic surgeons could only do so much.

It devastated me, knowing that things would never be the same. But that didn’t stop me from trying to live my life like I always had.

“Don’t get me wrong. Your carefree attitude and sense of humor are refreshing,” Harrison says, although I can sense abutcoming. “But the reality is we all have to do things we don’t want to do.”

“When have you ever done something you didn’t want to?” I scoff.

I’ve always envied how he makes everything look easy. He was the most popular kid in school and the star hockey player in college, and he seamlessly took over Stafford Holdings when our dad retired. He never shows weakness, and everyone takes him seriously.

“That’s what you think?” He raises a brow in surprise. “Cash, I was only ten when Dad told me I would be the successor to a global empire. Long before I fully comprehended what that meant, I carried the weight of our family’s legacy on my shoulders so that you, Dylan, and Presley didn’t have to. I gave up my dreams so you could pursue yours.”

“What dreams? I figured you wanted to be CEO.” Hearing myself say it out loud sounds ridiculous, but besides hockey, Stafford Holdings is the only thing he’s passionate about.

He gives a humorless laugh. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful for my role and wouldn’t trade it for anything. But there are moments when I wish things had turned out differently,” he says, his gaze distant, lost in thought.

“Why would you give up your dreams for us?”

“Because that’s what big brothers do. We sacrifice our happiness for the people we love.” He gives me a somber smile.

I’ve put Harrison on a pedestal, thinking his life was picture-perfect. Now I see how naïve I’ve been. He’s been dealing with his own challenges, and I’ve been too self-absorbed to notice.

“Man, I’ve been a shitty brother, huh?” I mutter, running my fingers through my hair.

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