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“Billie—”
“And it scares you,” she adds, and my heart races at the thought. “That’s what this is really about.”
I let out a heavy breath.
“I’m going to invite her and Lexi to hang out with me soon,” she singsongs, bouncing the ball a few times.
“Why?”
“I need to get to know the woman you plan to marry. Make sure she’s good enough to be my sister-in-law.”
I groan, “You’re really annoying.”
“I always will be. But then again, what are little sisters for?”
“Being a gigantic pain in my ass.”
“You’re right,” she says right before she serves the ball.
Exhaustion hangsheavy on my shoulders after a long, unplanned day with Billie. It’s nearly dinnertime, and I want a cozy evening with a bottle of bourbon, shitty TV, and a blazing fire.
As I walk into the foyer of The Park, I spot Lexi. She looks stunning in a flowy dress that dances around her knees, her makeup accentuating the sparkle in her eyes.
“Are you busy tonight?” she asks, looking me up and down.
I’m still in my running gear, gloves and all.
“I’m free. Need something?”
“You should go to Obsidian around eight.”
“Why?” I ask, half joking.
Obsidian is one of the bars I own in Midtown, but I don’t think Lexi knows that. My ownership is cloaked behind layers of limited liability corporations. It’s a protection put in place to those who might snoop. Those who need to know it’s mine do.
“I can’t say. Just trust me,” she offers, glancing down at her phone. “Anyway, I have to meet Easton. You know how he gets about being on time.” With a wave, she rushes away.
I step into the elevator, my thoughts racing, and I text Easton to see what he’s heard.
Weston
Any idea why Lexi suggested I be at Obsidian tonight?
I own several upscale clubs around town—Diamond, Obsidian, and Quartz. Each venue boasts a distinct atmosphere with a dress code tailored to meet the vibes.
I entered the nightlife scene while reveling in my bachelor days, yearning for a taste of excitement. Obsidian, in particular, is a casual hookup haven for twenty- and thirty-somethings. Mostinside is intentionally black with golden accents—right down to the toilet paper and shot glasses. It’s a place to find yourself, but blend in. The dress code? Black.
In contrast, my pub, Hidden Gem, sits snugly by New York University, featuring a different microbrew weekly and an acoustic night every Wednesday. It effortlessly draws in the college crowd.
At last, my phone buzzes, and I see my brother’s name. Took him forever.
Easton
Carlee.
Weston
What would you do?