Page 10 of Just Not That Into Billionaires

“I still can’t get over you riding in limos,” Mia says.

Lizzie looks up from the laptop where she was doing her research. “You just would die a grisly death before you’d date a billionaire, wouldn’t you?” she asks. “Did you not say that once?”

“Well, it’s true,” I say. “I would die a grisly death before I dated a billionaire.”

Lizzie fixes me with a huge grin. “But would you marry one?”

“Hardly!” I snort. “Again, nothing against your guys!”

“Would you die a grisly death before you married a billionaire?” she asks me weirdly. “A grisly and horrific death?”

I shrug. “What can I say?”

“Well, Francine,” Lizzie crows, “not only is this your wedding shower and your bachelorette party, but I’m afraid it’s your funeral as well!”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Benny Frederick Stearnes, born in Detroit, Michigan...” She fixes me with a big grin.

“Right, that’s him!” I say. “He was from Detroit.”

“Here’sForbes Magazine, an issue from five years ago—Tech entrepreneur Benjamin Stearnes unveiled his new microrobotic particle scavenger last month to a frenzy of excitement. The reduction of its energy source is a significant advantage for the tiny robots, which are designed to clean particular matter in manufacturing and industrial environments. This new innovation is sure to cement the billion-dollar company’s market share over the next five to ten years.”

“You are so full of shit,” I say. “You are making that up!”

“I’m not making it up! You think I could make something like that up on the fly?” Lizzie turns the laptop toward me.

I scan the article. “Maybe there’s another Benjamin Stearnes from Detroit.”

“There may be another Benjamin Stearnes from Detroit,” Lizzie says. “But no other Benjamin Stearnes shares your Benjamin Stearnes’s Social Security number.”

“No way,” I say. “I’m gonna need to see a picture. This is just...no way. Benny?”

“Gasp!” Tabitha says, staring into her phone. “Heart-eyes!”

“What?” Mia goes over and sets her chin on Tabitha’s shoulder. Her eyes go wide. “Erp!”

“Let me see!” I say.

Kelsey crowds in. “Francine! You’ve been holding out. Your secret billionaire husband is quite magnificent. He might be hotter than Antonio himself.”

“Stellina, you kill me,” Antonio says, clutching his heart.

I hold out my hand. “Come on, lemme see.”

Tabitha keeps it hidden, clutching her phone to her chest, eyes sparkling. “Francine, my friend, I shall now present your husband, billionaire industrialist Benny Stearnes.”

I take the phone with aharumph.

And time stops.

There in front of me, glowering out at me from the sparkly frame of Tabitha’s phone, is my long-lost frenemy, Benny.

He holds himself erect, gazing down at the camera lens with his same old annoyed scowl, his wonderful lips in their annoyed configuration, which means they’re extra-plumpy in the vaguest of frowns. He’s all filled out—strong jaw, thick, corded neck, jaw set hard. And where did those cheekbones come from? Did his entire face undergo a tectonic event? Those glasses that were too big for his face, giving him the look of a beetle—a large, gangly beetle—have been right-sized and switched to pale brown clear frames that look amazing on him. He’s managed to tame his dusty-brown hair. He’s…objectively hot.

Benny.

“What’s an industrialist?” Kelsey asks, as if from faraway land. “Wouldn’t he be more of a microroboticist or something?”

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