Page 20 of My Brother's Billionaire Best Friends

“You look exhausted,” she says, which is code forYou look like shit.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Pasta’s on the stove. I made extra.”

“You’re a lifesaver.”

She gives me a look, and I know she knows something’s off. But she doesn’t push. Not yet.

I toe off my heels, step over a LEGO minefield, and drop my bag by the hall table. We eat dinner at the table—something we try to do at least a few nights a week. It’s me, my mom, the twins, and way too much noise. Lyra talks about a kid in her class who brought a tarantula for show-and-tell. Levi explains how the moon affects the tides. I nod, smile, encourage. My mom asks the kids about their homework. The usual.

But the whole time, I’m somewhere else. I keep thinking about Gavin’s hand on my hip. Jack’s mouth on my neck. Harrison’s body pressing into mine in that damn closet.

What am I doing?

When dinner ends, we clean up as a unit. I do dishes. My mom wipes down the counters. Levi and Lyra get their pajamasswapped for cleaner versions of the same and run around for twenty minutes pretending bedtime doesn’t exist.

Eventually, they crash, and we tuck them in. My mom and I settle onto the couch, just like we do most nights. Blanket. Trashy TV. A bottle of wine. It’s our ritual.

She waits until the first commercial break to speak. “Okay,” she says, refilling both glasses, “what’s going on?”

I hesitate. Then I lie. “Work is stressful.”

“Parker.”

I look at her.

She raises an eyebrow. “I’m not dumb.”

I swallow a gulp of wine and set the glass down. “I might be sleeping with my bosses.”

She blinks once. Slowly. “Plural?”

“Not officially—it’s all hush-hush.”

“Good Lord.”

I run a hand through my hair and laugh, but it’s humorless. “It’s…complicated.”

“No shit.”

“They’re Phil’s best friends.”

“I remember.”

“And now I work for them.”

She narrows her eyes. “Please tell me this started after they hired you.”

Dodging my history, I nod. “I didn’t plan it.”

“You never do. That’s the problem.”

We sit in silence for a few seconds.

She sighs. “Parker. You have two children.”

“I’m aware.”