Page 53 of My Brother's Billionaire Best Friends

I press my lips together. Not confirming. Not denying.

She exhales through her nose, then glances at the kids before lowering her voice. “Parker. I love you. You know that. And I think you’ve been running on empty for so long that anything that feels like attention probably tastes like salvation.”

“That’s not what this is.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m not sure of anything right now. Why are you harping on this?”

She folds her arms. “Phil’s always said those boys were trouble.”

“They’re his best friends.”

“Exactly.”

I rub my temples. “He doesn’t get to dictate my life.”

“No. But he’ll have opinions. And so will everyone else if this gets out.”

“I’m not trying to cause a scandal.”

“You think Vivian won’t notice? That the board won’t care?”

My pulse kicks. “They don’t know.”

“Yet.”

Silence stretches between us. Finally, she softens. “You’re a grown woman. You can do what you want. But just remember—every decision you make touches your kids. Don’t forget that.”

I nod, suddenly too tired to argue. “I am painfully aware of that.” And wondering whether her free nanny service is worth the cost of this conversation.

After a few more minutes of light chatter, I gather my bag, call the kids over, and start the short trek down the stairs to my garden-level apartment tucked beneath my mom’s place. The kids run ahead, arguing over who gets to pick the movie tonight.

And I follow, heart heavier than I want to admit.

Downstairs in our little apartment, things settle into a familiar rhythm—movies, microwave popcorn, warm fleece blankets piled too high. The kids pick something animated and overly musical, and I let them. I don’t have the energy to debate plot holes in a show about magical woodland creatures solving interpersonal drama through song.

If only humans had it so easy.

Lyra curls into my side, her head tucked beneath my arm. Levi stretches out at my feet, using my calf as a pillow.

I don’t even bother changing out of my jeans. I just sink into the couch and let myself be theirs again, fully. Not Parker the assistant, not Parker the mess tangled up in three men’s lives—just Mom. Their mom.

The knot in my chest loosens again, just a little.

Halfway through the movie, I have to pee. I wait as long as I can, not wanting to break the moment, but eventually I shift Lyra off me with an apologetic kiss to her forehead and shuffle down the hallway to the bathroom.

It’s the third time tonight.

I chalk it up to stress. Or maybe I’m just dehydrated and my body is staging a rebellion. I wash my hands, splash cool water on my face, and stare into the mirror for longer than I mean to.

I look…fine. A little pale. Eyes tired. But that’s normal. That’s working-mom normal. That’s nothing to worry about.

Right?

When I come back out, the kids are half-asleep. Lyra’s thumb is in her mouth. Levi’s eyes are drooping. I pause the movie andcoax them both into pajamas, which goes about as smoothly as trying to dress cats in matching raincoats.

“Do Ihaveto brush my teeth?” Lyra whines.