Staring at my sister, I grumbled, “Stop panicking. You’re not getting auctioned off to the highest bidder.”
Erica ranted about marriage, men, and unrealistic expectations for several minutes, while my mind drifted back to Albany.
When did she get here?Not that she would’ve called me when she crossed state lines, but it was common knowledge that Albany hated Michigan. Once she graduated, she’d high-tailed it out of Dodge and rarely looked back. Detroit wasn’t a small city by any means, but we’d traveled in the same circles for years and I had never run into her. Not at an event. Not at the gym. Not at a restaurant. And definitely not at work.
Where is her husband?The fact that Albany married some useless muthafucka still irritated me. I didn’t need to know where that guy was, and I didn’t really care.Is she still married, though?
Why do I even care?Because I just did. I always cared about Albany. More than I would ever admit.
Erica clapped her hands, drawing my gaze back to her. “You didn’t see the email?”
How fucked up am I?No comment. Another obvious answer. Fed up with myself and the questions in my head, I sighed and refocused my attention back to my little sister, who’d jumped up and paced the office. “Email?”
Muttering a curse, Erica gestured toward my laptop. “Where are you, brother? Granny sent us a summary. Of the meeting?”
Frowning, I scrolled through my unread messages. Other than the typical mailbox fodder, there was nothing out of the ordinary. “What are you talking about?”
“Obviously, I’ve been talking to your wall. Check your personal email.”
I opened my private account and spotted the message in question. I scanned the text quickly, then met my sister’s waiting gaze. “Shit.”
She planted a hand on her hip. “Still think I’m panicking?”
As I reread the email, I wondered what my grandmother was really going through. I thought back to the meeting, to Granny’s demeanor. Other than her obvious irritation withme, nothing signaled there was anything wrong. But this … The message was brief, but clear.
You are required to go on a date with someone of my choosing. Over the next few weeks, I’ll meet with each of you individually to discuss. I expect your full cooperation.
“Can you talk to her?” Erica asked.
I frowned. “Who?”
Erica let out a dramatic sigh. “Granny! Damn!”
The door swung open, and Hendrix entered the office. “You know this is fucked up, right? First, she tells us we need to get married before she dies. Now, she wants to play matchmaker?”
“See! We’re the Black Bridgertons.” Erica opened my small refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. “I’m not getting married for a check.”
Hen glanced at Erica. “How much is it, though?”
My sister rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t matter,” she snapped. “I’m not doing it.”
“Enough,” I ordered. I needed time to process everything that had happened today. As much as I loved my sister, Erica’s tendency to overreact made me tired as hell. “Let me think.”
“This is your fault, Wes,” Hen announced.
“That part,” Erica agreed. “Granny was on the warpath because your ass can’t keep your dick in your pants.”
I glared at her. “Do you really think Granny pulled this wedding shit out of her ass because of some TikTokker?”
“You have a point,” Hen conceded. “She had to have come up with this months ago.” He crossed his leg over his knee. “Business deal?”
While Granny was ruthless in the boardroom, there was no doubt she loved my grandfather. She’d devoted her life to him and had never even considered remarrying after his untimely death. It seemed unlikely she’d use us as a bargaining chip for some sort of financial payoff.
I shook my head. “Nah. I don’t see it.”
Erica raked a hand through her hair. “It feels so unexpected. A provision in Grandad’s will that we don’t know about?” Erica suggested.
“I doubt it,” Hen said. “This is all her.”
