Page 25 of The Billionaire Is Back

“Okay, first of all—how dare he. And I only heard about it from Damien in a group text that I totally forgot I was in because I haven’t heard from Damien in forever.”

“Oh, really? Don’t you go to the beach to watch him play with lobsters?”

“I happen to see him when he’s at the beach training his lobsters. And I don’t watch him, I advise him when what he’s doing is totally wrong and stupid. For his own good.” She gulps down the last of the wine in her glass like she’s putting out a fire in her throat. “So, do youwant to stop by the Barber residence, or do you want to hear my other ideas—one of which involves flying to New York for a rave in Queens that I actually want to go to?”

“Yeah, no.” I turn on the oven and set the temperature. “I’m pretty tired.”

“Yeah, okay,” she says, rinsing out her wine glass. “I’ll stop by the barbecue by myself then. Let Grady know you’re too busy baking and eating your feelings to swing by and make him regret not marrying or at least fucking you.”

Well,thathurt. “You sure you aren’t trying to convince me to go to that barbecue because you want to see his brother?” Takethat, Vera.

Her face falls for one millionth of a second before she blows air through her lips and laughs. “Yeah. That’s what’s up. I have exactlynofeelings about either brother.”

I arch an eyebrow at her. “Same.”

She crosses her arms in front of her chest and shrugs. “Good.”

I rest my fists on my hips. “Great.”

Having a lifelong best friend that you see every single day is good and great because we know each other so well.

It is also annoying and terrible because we know each other so well.

We stare each other down, until we both break into peals of laughter. I throw my arms around her. “You are a bad ass,” I tell her. “Thank you for whatever this was. I’mfine.”

“You are also a bad ass.” She leans into my hug. “And it’s okay to not be fine.”

I almost tell her about theflour on the jawmoment because Vera would get so excited she’d burst into song.

But then I hear the door to the garage slam shut and my mom’s heels on the hardwood floor. “Claire?! Claire! Oh, thank God, you’re here.” My mother is still perfectly coiffed after a full day of encouraging people to either buy or sell or rent properties, but she has the slightest hint of worry on her powdered forehead. “I rushed home as soon as I heard.” She places her handbag on the counter and picks up Vera’s bag from the floor, also placing it on the counter. “Oh dear, she’s stress baking,” she says to Vera.

“She’s ‘fine,’” Vera says with judgy air quotes.

My mother lowers her voice, as if there’s anyone besides me and Vera in our house to hear her. “So, we all know about who’s back in town?”

“Yeah,” Vera says, rubbing my back. “We know. We’re super fine.”

“Joyce Taylor saw him driving down Main Street in his old car,” my mother says toVera.

“Really? I did not receive that information.” Vera is way too intrigued.

I start cleaning up the counter, noisily, because apparently I’m not a part of this conversation and apparently I’m passive-aggressivelyfineabout everything today.

“My client was wondering if he’d lost all his money and had to move in with his parents too. But I told her about Michael’s angina episode.”

“Oh no—I didn’t hear about that either,” Vera says. “Poor Mr. Barber.”

It takes me a few seconds to register that my mom already knew about Grady’s dad. “Wait, you knew about that?” I ask. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, there was no reason to worry you, dear. But I had no idea Grady would be coming home for this.” She reaches out to touch my chin, silently encouraging me to chin up. “You’re a gorgeous, talented, successful catch, and you’re attracting the perfect mate into your life, right at this moment!” she exclaims affirmatively. “I’ll text the Barbers to let them know we already have plans and can’t go to the barbecue.”

“Wait,youwere invited too?” I check my phone for an invitation, but nope.

I hear the back door close, my dad’s heavy footsteps, and two very happy dogs. “You won’t believe who’s back!” my dad calls out. “Guess who’s back in town!” He walks in, all excited, holding his palms out like an old vaudevillian performer who’s about to tell a show stopping joke on stage.

“We know,” my mother says with a dismissive wave. “We can’t make it to the barbecue.”

“Why not?” My dad hangs the leashes and his key ring on the key rack by the centuries-old phone on the wall. He has done this every time he’s come home, and he’s very proud of the fact that he always knows where the leashes and keys are. “I already told Mike we’d be there.”

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