A Billionaire for Christmas

“You told people about that?” He threw his head back with a sigh and ran a hand through his hair, very much looking like his father.

Dylan’s eyes widened, but he kept his composure. “Forgive me if stories about my son come up during small talk.”

Again, Aaron rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t a big deal. We just went to see a show, is all.”

Dylan hadn’t told me where Aaron had been. I hadn’t thought it was my place to pry. Now, I asked, “A Broadway show?”

“Jacksepticeye and Markiplier had a meetup. They’re YouTubers. Like, they…” Aaron trailed off, as though trying to think of how to explain them.

I helped him out. “I know who they are.”

“You watch Jacksepticeye and Markiplier?” His eyes lit up for the first time since meeting him.

“Oh, no. No,” I said too quickly. “I know who they are, but I don’t watch them.” I wasn’t about to admit that I’d been at many a party hosted by someone in the art department where everyone got high and watched video-game commentators and funny things pets did.

Even not saying it, my cheeks went red. How immature was my life that I related so closely to Dylan’s son? Proof that he was a grown-up, and I was just a kid myself.

“Anyway,” I said, regretting the conversation. “I hope it was a good time.”

“It was amazing! Had to miss a day of my ski trip with Dad, and I’m stuck doing homework all the rest of tonight, but it’s not too bad.”

Dylan’s expression softened. “If you get done early, we’ll play another game of Risk tonight.”

My stomach dropped. “You’re...staying with Aaron when you walk him home?”

He rushed to answer. “No. I’m going over later. His mother’s going out, and I didn’t want him to be alone.”

I let out a small sigh of relief. He wasn’t canceling on me, then.

“I’m alone all the time when she goes out. It’s not like I’m five.”

Dylan didn’t respond to his son’s sass. “Ellen does go out a lot. She’s quite good at...entertaining.”

Entertaining. There was so much weight in that one word. So much history and bitterness. I’d been right when I’d guessed that she was the one to poison him, but the wound ran both deeper and closer to the surface than I’d originally thought.

“And you never entertain at all,” Aaron sputtered. “A happy middle between you would be nice.”

Dylan smirked. “I do too entertain. Just not when you’re around. I have morals.”

Aaron’s cheeks pinked as he realized what his dad meant. “I mean, you could go out on a date every once in a while. You’re never going to get married again if you don’t.”

Dylan pulled his neck back in horror. “Whoever told you I’d want to get married again?”

The disgust in his tone, the pure shock in his expression, it reminded me what the situation was between us. The reality wasn’t him as a father. The reality was him as a bachelor. He was jaded. He was a cynic. He was hard-hearted, and I was soft. So very soft, because somehow the truth that I’d known all along hit me with a heavy, cruel punch to the gut.

I didn’t pay much attention to the rest of the conversation. I’m sure I was polite and present, then I excused myself at the next opportunity and scurried away to the elevator. As I waited for the doors to shut, I watched them continue outside, talking animatedly. Dylan never looked back once.

I bit my lip and concentrated on taking deep even breaths until I was safely in the apartment, alone. Inside, I leaned against the back of the closed door and let out a slow, deep sigh. This was why I hadn’t told Sabrina about this thing with Dylan—because I really had thought I could change him. That this little speck of an affair might make him feel something again. Something warm and wonderful.

Something warm and wonderful for me.

Ugh, I was such a girl. Such a romantic, pathetic, stupid girl child. My head knew better. Why couldn’t my heart?

For the first time since I’d suggested this whole arrangement to Dylan, I had second thoughts. I needed to back out. I couldn’t go through with this without becoming invested. He’d understand. If he didn’t, he’d at least pretend like he did. He was polite like that.

And I’d learn what I liked the normal way—in a relationship with a guy who had feelings for me. The same kind of feelings I’d have for him.

My sister would have already been out the door. I felt it, firm and hard and solid behind me. It would be so easy to turn around and walk back through it, and I would—just as soon as I was sure I wouldn’t start crying.

I blinked back the threatening tears, took a sniffling breath in, and tried to pull myself together. If I didn’t, Dylan was going to return to find me a hot mess, and wouldn’t that be the most embarrassing moment of my life?