Page 12 of Billionaire Grump
Colton nods, stuffing the rest of his donut into his mouth.
My brothers are good at many things, but talking openly about their feelings is not one of them. Noah is more perceptive than the other two, but even he struggles sometimes to lay it all out on the table. A hangover, maybe, from our father’s influence. A.J. Benjamin Maddox II thought therapy of any kind or talking about feelings was for idiots and weaklings.
“You need to get out more,” Noah tells me. “Working this much and hiding from life in general isn’t healthy.”
I lean back in my chair, almost amused. “Jesus, Noah, just send me a text like a normal person.”
“I have, but you’re always in the gym or still at the office.”
“Because I have to be. And I’m not ‘hiding from life.’ I’m working.”
“You need a distraction. A day off. A night out. Something. If you keep working yourself into the ground like this, you’ll end up like?—”
“Wait. Let me guess. Dad?”
Noah pins me with a look. His eyes are the exact same color green as our mother’s were. “You just seem…dark.”
“Dark?” I shrug, exasperated. Problem is, he’s right. I’m in a tunnel because I’m about to vacate my twenties and I have nothing emotionally satisfying to show for any of it.
I guess it’s affecting me more than I realized.
I level a glare at Colton, then Noah. “Working out keeps me sane. At least I don’t spend my days smoking cigars and drinking my way through copious amounts of top shelf whiskey.” Which is what our father did. He was a heart attack waiting to happen for at least a decade before one finally caught up with him. “Working a lot comes with the territory of being CEO. Next question.”
“You haven’t dated anyone since Margot.”
I rub a hand roughly across my jaw. “Seriously? That’s what this is about? Margot? I broke it off, remember? Not only did I not love her, I didn’t even like her. It was over before it even started.”
“Then find someone else,” Colton suggests lightly, like it’s that easy.
“Trust me, I wish I could.”
“Do we need to call Esther and get her to book you a trip to, I don’t know, the singles resort at Club Med?” Noah asks.
“Club Med,” I scoff, like it’s a ridiculous idea. But I can almost admit the idea sounds tempting.
“It’s not a terrible idea,” Colton insists. “Maybe I’ll go.”
I’m going to regret telling them this, I can feel it. “I’m going out of town this weekend, actually.”
Noah raises an eyebrow. “You are?”
“Blake and Leah’s wedding, in the Hamptons. I’m the best man.” I run a hand through my hair, dreading the thought so much it feels heavier than usual. My brothers are right. I’m strung out as fuck. “Margot is the wedding planner,” I admit grumpily.
Noah laughs sympathetically. “Oh, shit.”
“So I’m going to spend the weekend on the receiving end of her gleeful little power trip, wishing I was dead.”
“Take a date,” Colton suggests. “Get all hot and heavy with some debutante on the dance floor. That would keep Margot at arm’s length.”
“Unfortunately, every ‘date’ I’ve had lately is just as grasping as Margot. Or even worse.”
“I could call someone.” Colton blinks at me.
I exhale something that’s not quite laughter. “Absolutely fucking not. I’d rather pay someone than help myself to your leftovers, little brother.”
Noah’s watching me. I can practically see the cogs whirring inside his brain. “That’s actually not a bad idea. You could hire someone.”
“Hire someone? Please.” I shake my head, pushing my chair back from the table. “Now that you’ve finished the Spanish Inquisition, am I free to go?”