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Bash chewed a bite of food and shook his head. “I have friends I consider brothers. You’ve met Silas and Dev—”
“Oh, right.”
“But there are five of us in total. We met our first year at Yale because we were all in the same residential college—”
A swallow of wine got stuck in my throat. “Yale?” I croaked.
“It was on my resume, Mr. Chase.” Bash lifted that damn sexy eyebrow.
Fuck. “Oh, right. So! Five of you, you say? How wonderful! You all instantly bonded and—”
“No.” Bash snorted. “Hell, no. We hated each other at first.Loathed. We were from such a variety of backgrounds we couldn’t help it. Some of us were there on scholarships, others came from the families thatendowedthe scholarships. Some of us were used to quiet, some played fucking rock music so hard the windows rattled. Some of us were slobs who dared to leave dishes in the sink… some of us were picky assholes named Silas.” He grinned. “Some were conscientious students who never missed class, and some tried to tempt the others away from studying.”
I snorted. “I know which one you were.”
He smiled delightedly—not the tilted half-smile I liked so much but a full-on grin that hit me like a shaft of pure sunlight. “What makes you say that?”
Because you tempt me to do all sorts of unwise things.
“Just the impression I get.” I waved a hand through the air. “But go on. How’d you become brothers if you hated each other?”
“A massive blizzard that closed the school for two days… combined with a bottle of my father’s best Scotch.”
I laughed out loud. “You were the ringleader. I knew it!”
He smiled at me again, then shrugged like he was a bit embarrassed. “Anyway. After a full day of drinking games, we figured out we were all queer misfits in our own ways. And we became a unit.”
“Misfits who fit together.” I pushed aside my plate and set my elbow on the table so I could prop my chin in my hand and stare at him. I probably looked like a smitten idiot, but I’d had just enough wine not to care. “I envy you, having brothers like that.”
Bash tilted his head. “Do you not? I think you mentioned a sister…”
“I… yes.” I touched the tattoo on my hip reflexively. “But it’s complicated.”
I rarely talked about Daisy to anyone outside my family. The sweet memories that overwhelmed me and the heartache that hadn’t ever gone away, not really, even in ten years, were just too much for polite conversation. But I would have liked to tell Bash about her… except I couldn’t while I was being Sterling.
Bash simply nodded and refilled my wineglass. “Families often are. So, tell me something different, then. I know you love traveling all over the world, so… what’s next on your bucket list? Someplace you’ve never gone.”
I laughed, but it came out a little too high-pitched. Even talking about bucket list travel would require me to lie to keep up my charade. Was there a safe topic in the universe?
Fuck it.
“Probably Wheaton, Illinois,” I said honestly.
Bash sighed at me, shaking his head. “Why am I even surprised anymore by the stuff you come up with? Okay, then, what’s so special about Wheaton, Illinois?”
“Well.” I leaned closer. “They have an all-night flea market. Can you imagine? Wandering the stalls under the moonlight, with artists, and cosplayers, and music, and all the good foods you get at carnivals? Things don’t have to be complicated to be amazing, right?”
Bash stared at me for a beat, then pushed his plate away, too. “That’s right.” He stood and twisted his back in an exaggerated stretch, and my eyes caught on the thin band of tan skin on his stomach that peeked out when his shirt rode up. “Want to go sit on the sofa? It might be more comfortable.”
My mouth went dry, and I grabbed my wine, gulping down the remainder of the glass.
Tell him. You tell him right now, Rowe Prince. Don’t let another minute go by.
“Rowe? Everything okay?”
Oh, peachy. I’m pretending to be a billionaire when in reality, I don’t have enough savings to pay for this bottle of wine. I’m supposed to be using this opportunity to get connections I can pitch the business idea I’ve spent years working on, but instead, I keep using every excuse I can think of to spend time with you. The fairy tale is ending, and I want so badly to just have a few more minutes with you. Another kiss from you. For you to know who I am and still look at me the way you’re looking right now.
“Yes. Great.” I cleared my throat. “I just feel like I’m talking too much. Am I talking too much? I don’t want to bore you.”
