Page 101 of The Billionaire's Christmas Bride

"Good name." She leans in closer, "What about your friend behind you?"

Phoenix gazes at her wide-eyed, "You…can see him?" She gulps.

"Yep, I can. What’s his name?"

"Jack." Phoenix bobs her head, "Jack. Jack."

"Jack?" I turn to Kirsten.

Kirsten nods. "He’s imaginary," she says in a low voice.

"Ah." I glance back at the woman, who bends her glossy blonde head toward the dark blonde-haired kid. Something hot stabs at my chest.

"You want one of your own, huh?" Kirsten nudges me.

"What?" I turn to her, "Of course, not."

Kirsten tilts her head, "Hmm." She looks me up and down. Seeing...what? The bags over my shoulders, the dog straining at the leash, the other end of which I hold onto with my uninjured hand...

I scowl at her, "You have a weird look on your face."

"I am not the one who’s changed." She grins, then reaches up to pat my cheek. "Finally," she titters, "I can’t tell you how I was looking forward to this day."

"You are not making any sense," I grumble.

"It’s normal—so much happening in so little time," she waggles her head, "but when it’s right, it’s right, you know?"

"No," I glower.

The fuck is wrong with my sister? Had I grown another head on my way here?

"Hey," a new voice mumbles. I glance up as my eleven year old niece ambles into the room.

"Skye." I hold out my fist. "Whassup?"

She walks over, ignores me, then frowns at Amelie, "Who're you?"

"Skye!" Kirsten exclaims. "You apologize right now to Amelie, you hear me?"

Skye rolls her eyes, then sighs, "Yeah, fine, whatever. Sorry... Amelie. Pleased to meet you, Amelie. Hey, Uncle Wes." She tosses her head. "There," she jerks her chin in Kirsten's direction. "Happy now?" She turns on her heel and flounces off.

"Whoa." I blink. "What happened there?"

"Sorry." Kirsten turns red. "She's already turning into a teenager. I shudder to think how she's going to be in a few years' time."

She crosses over to Amelie, "Let’s get you inside." She holds out her arms to Phoenix, who jumps back into Kirsten’s arms.

"Mommy!" Phoenix throws her arms around Kirsten’s neck, then strains in her grasp to peer at Max, "Doggy, doggy, play...play."

Kirsten lowers the little girl to the ground, "Come on, let’s go in." She hitches her arm through Amelie’s, "Was the trip okay?"

The three of them walk in.

I stare after them, then down at Max, who whines, and strains at his leash. Amelie’s bag slides down to the crook of my arm. How the hell did I get stuck with this? Brilliant surgeon? Check. Obnoxious billionaire? You bet. Carrying my girlfriend’s luggage into my family home? Wh-a-t? Time for a reality check. Why the fuck did I think this was a good idea? Who suggested this? Oh, wait, that was me.

Peter walks out. He glances down at the pink suitcase then at me,

"Keep this the fuck to yourself," I mutter. "Not a word to the rest of the Seven."