My Brother's Billionaire Best Friend - Max Monroe Page 0,44
her?”
“Meet whom?”
“Your wife-to-be.”
“Slow your roll, dude,” I say with a laugh. “Pretty sure I have to find her first.”
“You’re not dating anyone?”
I shake my head, and he narrows his eyes.
“No man ever smiles at that question unless they’ve got the lady in mind.”
An image of Maybe pops unbidden in my head, and I jump on that shit like a member of the goddamn WWE.
Holy shit, why would I think of her right now?
I try to steady my racing heart and answer the inquisitive giant as normally as possible. “No lady yet. But I’m thirty, Thatch. Pretty sure I’ve got time.”
He snorts. “Yeah, well, I’m well past thirty. I’d like to attend the wedding before I get arthritis.”
“I’ll do my best,” I say with a laugh, and he smiles.
“See that you do. And listen, I’m thinking about starting up a poker night. Boys-only kind of thing once a week. You interested?”
I shrug. “Yeah. Sounds good. Let me know when you get it set up.”
“Will fluffing do, Lo-Dog.”
I shake my head at his ridiculousness and give him a chin jerk goodbye. I’m sure I’ll be seeing him for poker soon, though. When it comes to Thatcher Kelly, you learn pretty quick that once he sets his mind to something, it’s a guarantee it will happen.
By the time I make it out of the gym and toward the subway station, it’s nearing eight and I’m so hungry, I’m contemplating asking the guy sitting across from me for a bite of his Chipotle burrito.
Thankfully, my place is only one station away.
Sure, I could have used my driver, Sam, but his daughter had a dance recital tonight, and I’m not too keen on being responsible for scarring children emotionally. Her dad should be there, and I have two feet and can handle the short subway ride and walk on the rare occasion when he can’t drive me.
Fifteen minutes later, I step inside my apartment, grab the menu from the cabinet and call in an order from the restaurant across the street, and jump in the shower.
They’re usually quick with delivery, and I don’t like to mix food and sweat.
Luckily, I finish up and am pulling a white T-shirt over my boxer briefs when the bell rings, indicating someone’s arrival. I head down the hall, and the elevator door slides open to my doorman, Gill.
“Hello, Mr. Ives. Your food order.”
I reach out to take it from him with a smile. “Thanks, Gill. Still have money, or do I owe you some more?”
To keep things more secure—you wouldn’t believe how many weirdos there are out there trying to get my address off the internet—Gill acts as a middleman for me on deliveries. I keep a rolling supply of money with him to pay for everything.
He smiles and shakes his head. “I’m all set, Mr. Ives.”
“Thanks. Don’t forget to tip yourself,” I remind him.
He nods once and steps back onto the elevator.
I spread out the contents of my bag on the counter—broiled salmon, broccoli, and lemon-butter rice—and grab a plate from the cabinet. But before I can serve it up, a message alert makes my phone buzz on the marble countertop.
I move to it quickly and scoop it up. I can’t even pretend I haven’t been waiting for this message all night. And thankfully, since I’m home alone right now, I don’t have to.
Maybe: *flashes Billionaire signal on buildings all over New York City* Are you there, Billionaireman? I’m ready for your help fighting my neuroses.
My smile is so big, I feel it all the way at the corners of my eyes.
Me: Here and at the ready, my distressed friend. Lay it on me.
Maybe: Okay, so, I *think* I made a good impression with Cassandra. I mean, she didn’t kick me out in the first five minutes, and I didn’t make ANY references to My Little Pony. She even happened to know some of my work from the Stanford Gazette.
I shake my head as I type out a reply, wondering how one human being can amuse me so much.
Me: Was referencing My Little Pony an actual possibility?
Maybe: I don’t put anything past myself when I’m nervous.
Me: Well, you can relax now. It sounds like she loved you.
Maybe: Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves here, buddy.
Me: Tell me this—did she tell you when she’d call you?
Maybe: She said I’d hear from her in the next day or so.
Me: She loved you.
Maybe: How in the hell do you know that? You weren’t even there! Can Billionaireman see through walls