The Billionaire’s Forbidden Little Sister

by Monroe, Max

  Empty the dishwasher. Take out the trash.

  Reapply my makeup for a third time.

  But when I’ve done pretty much everything there is to do at this ungodly hour of the morning, I glance at the clock and see only twenty freaking minutes have passed.

  A heavy sigh escapes my lungs. God help me.

  For the past week, time hasn’t flowed; it’s fucking dripped by at a pace that feels slower than waiting for water to boil.

  Even though I’ve tried to keep myself distracted, I’ve tried to keep myself busy with my internship and random shit like scrubbing my apartment as if I’ve all of a sudden acquired OCD or picking up shifts at Jovial Grinds because I don’t have anything better to do, each day has felt longer than the next.

  And every day, no matter how hard I try, I can’t not think about Theo.

  Every-fucking-thing reminds me of him.

  If there is a real-life hell, I’m living it.

  Eventually, when the first hint of sunlight starts to filter in through the windows of my living room, I decide to just grab my shit and head out, maybe grab a cup of coffee at the café across the street from Loro’s shop.

  But just before I reach my door, my phone pings with a text message.

  I stop dead in my tracks and my lungs forget how to breathe as I shakily pull it out of my purse and check to see who it’s from.

  Instantly, my shoulders sag when I see the sender.

  Cap: What in the actual hell, sis? You can’t ignore me forever, you know.

  Fuck, he is not the person I was hoping would text me. Yeah, but that person is currently in Paris. Not to mention, you fucking broke up with him.

  I groan, push my stupid incessant thoughts aside, and focus on my reality—my brother is texting me. Again.

  Cap has been relentless in his attempts to talk to me.

  Five days ago, it started with a text message asking me what happened with Theo and me. When I didn’t respond, that turned into four more messages where the nosy bastard let me know he already knew what happened.

  Those texts morphed into phone calls, which I ignored.

  And those calls turned into voice mails that involved Cap trying to give me relationship advice like he’s the next Dr. Fucking Phil. Hell, during one of his one-man therapy sessions, he asked me if I really thought I’d done the right thing, if I was sure that breaking up with Theo was what I wanted.

  Yeah. Quite the turn of events for the guy who turned into Hulk Smash at Milo and Maybe’s wedding.

  Truthfully, I’m shocked he hasn’t attempted to bring his prying ass to my front door. Hell, for all I know, he’s already tried it, but I’ve been too MIA from my apartment for him to catch up with me.

  I read his message again, sigh, and contemplate whether or not my current plan of total avoidance can be stretched out for the next sixty or so years.

  How can you avoid someone for…forever?

  Witness Protection is the first thing that comes to mind, but I haven’t witnessed shit besides my utter insanity. Plus, it’s a bit too cliché, you know, and I feel like Cap would have the connections and know how to track me down.

  Move to a remote island where no one can find me is the second idea that pops into my head, but since I can’t even tolerate watching Naked and Afraid without feeling like bugs are crawling all over me, it’s obviously a no go.

  Before I can come up with any more awful options, my brother fires off two more messages.

  Cap: No, Lena, you CAN’T avoid me for the rest of your life. There is no situation that will make that possible.

  Cap: Plus, don’t you think the fact that you’re trying to avoid me AND my very insightful questions/advice is kind of saying something here?

  I roll my eyes. After years of being a manwhore, he finally settles the fuck down, and all of a sudden, he’s the Yoda of relationships.

  Bullshit. The urge is too strong, and before I can think twice about it, I’m angrily tapping my fingers across the screen and hitting send.

  Me: Says something? Like what, Dr. Phil? That you’re annoying?

  His response is immediate.

  Cap: Ah, there she is. Only took, like, a fucking week to find the right response to make it impossible for you to resist a sarcastic retort.

  Son of a bitch. Why’d I have to respond?

  I groan and resign myself to my fate—being locked into this conversation with my aggravating as fuck brother. I set my purse and keys on the table by the door and send off another text.

  Me: Damn. A whole week? It seems you’ve lost your touch, bro.

  Cap: HA. Tell me about it. Honestly, I’m a little disappointed in myself.

  Me: You should be. I’m disappointed in you daily.

  Cap: Lashing out at me to protect yourself, huh? It must be bad.

  Oh, here we go…

  He’s fishing for details that I refuse to give him.

  Me: I’m good. Totally peachy.

  Cap: Lena. C’mon. No bullshit. I’m worried about you.

  Ugh. I swallow against the emotion that’s creeping up my throat and try to end this conversation before it goes any further.

  Me: I’m fine, Cap. Anyway, I need to go. Gotta head to work. Love you! Bye!

  But my phone buzzes in my hand before I can slide it back into my purse.

  Cap: Nice try, but it’s 7 a.m. You and I both know you don’t need to be anywhere until nine.

  Even though he can’t see me, I stick my tongue out at him as type another response.

  Me: I like to get an early start on my day.

  Cap: At Loro’s shop in SoHo, right? Perfect. I’ll get an early start on my day too and meet you there.

  Fucking shit, you psycho. I lean against the wall beside the door and bang my head against it.

  Me: Don’t be a lunatic.

  Cap: How does me wanting to see my baby sis in the morning make me a lunatic?

  Me: Be real, you liar. You don’t want to see me. You want to TALK to me.

  Cap: And what do I want to talk to you about?

  I sigh and slide down the wall until my ass is resting on the hardwood floor.

  Me: Go away. None of this is any of your business.

  But, apparently, my brother thinks everything is his business.

  Cap: Lena, tell me the truth. Why did you break up with Theo?

  Me: Because it just wasn’t working out, okay? I don’t even know why you—THE MAN WHO LOST HIS FUCKING SHIT WHEN HE FOUND OUT I WAS DATING ONE OF HIS BEST FRIENDS—care so much about this.

  Cap: Because I fucking care about you. And him, shockingly. It waffles back and forth, but when I’m not planning his murder, I’m feeling bad for the sappy bastard.

  Sappy bastard? What’s that mean? Does he know something about Theo?

  Cap: And are you sure it wasn’t working out with him or was it working out TOO much? There’s a big fucking difference, sis.

  My breath gets all tangled up in my lungs when I read his texts, but I focus on typing out a flippant response.

  Me: You’re not making any fucking sense.

  Cap: You know what doesn’t make any fucking sense? The fact that the past few months you’ve been the happiest I’ve ever seen you, and now you’ve decided to up and drop an atomic bomb on that shit. You’re the Hiroshima of miserable these days, and I’m tired of your witchiness.

  Me: I’m not miserable.

  Liar, liar, skinny jeans on fire.

  Cap: Bullshit.

  Me: Fine. I’ll give you that. But no one ever said breakups were easy.

  Cap: I never said they were, sis. Look, I can see you’re still in full avoidance mode, but I want you to think about something. Can you at least fucking do that for me?

  Me: If it means you’ll stop harassing me day and night with fucking text messages and voice mails, then yes.

  The text bubbles move up and down for what feels like eternity before a long-ass message pops onto the screen.

  Cap: I know breakups aren’t easy.
Trust me, I know. When things went bad between Ruby and me because I was a fucking idiot, it was the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life. I was fucking miserable, Lena. MISERABLE. And you know why I was miserable? Because I was in love with her. Because she was my fucking person. If you really ended things with Theo because in your heart you know he’s not the man for you, then that’s exactly what you should’ve done.

  Tears prick my eyes. And what if I don’t know why? What if my heart is saying the complete opposite?

  God. I don’t want to be thinking about any of this right now. It’s all too fucking hard.

  But Cap isn’t done writing a novel inside our chat box.

  Cap: But if you’re miserable. If your heart is really fucking pissed at you right now—if you think about the future and you find it fucking impossible not to picture him there, then now isn’t the time to avoid. And it certainly isn’t the time to deny yourself happiness because you’re scared.

  Cap: Just think about it, Lena. Really fucking think about it, okay? And just so you know, I’m always on your side. No matter what. So, in the future, stop being so fucking hardheaded and let me be there for you. That’s what big brothers are for.

  Even though I want to ignore his stupid messages, deep down, I know they are anything but stupid. His words are too wise, too damn knowing, and those fucking tears find their way out of my lids and slide down my cheeks as I send him one last message.

  Me: Okay. I will. Love you too.

  Fucking Cap. Why does he have to be so smart now? What happened to the brother who would rather cut off his arm than talk relationships, especially with me of all people?

  He grew up. He fell in love. He found happiness.

  I swipe at my eyes, but it’s useless.

  My ironclad dam has broken, and I am powerless against the emotional onslaught.

  Tears continue streaming down my cheeks as all of the feelings and emotions I’ve kept pent-up for the past week find their release.

  Shit.

  Eventually, I push myself to my feet and head into the bathroom to try to pull myself together. But when I see red-rimmed, sad eyes staring back at me in the mirror, a shuddering breath jumps from my lungs and I put my head into my hands.

  Fuck. I don’t want to do this right now.

  Yeah, but you obviously need to, you dumbass. You’re human. Not a fucking unemotional robot.

  This is one of those moments where I really could use a conversation with my best friend, but Maybe is still on her month-long honeymoon, most likely having sex with Milo on some private island in the Maldives.

  And I refuse to interrupt her, no matter how close to losing my mind I truly am.

  But without any outlet, all of these fucking thoughts inside my head start to consume me.

  Why did I do it, though? Why did I really end things with Theo?

  And how could I break up with someone that I miss this fucking much?

  It feels all kinds of wrong.

  My last conversation with Theo replays in my mind, and then the realization of everything just kind of crushes me from the inside out.

  That had to be a low point for me. A rock-bottom, pathetic, awful low point where I became the very worst version of myself.

  I was careless with his feelings, and I hurt him deeply in the process.

  But sadly, I did the same to myself.

  I was reckless with my own feelings and broke my own fucking heart the night I ended things.

  Fuck.

  All I really want right now is to see him. Talk to him. I just want to hear his voice. I just want to know if he’s okay. Hell, I’ve had to stop myself a thousand times from picking up the phone and calling him.

  But how can I call him when I don’t know what to say?

  God, I’m the worst. Yeah. You definitely are.

  Fuck, I just need to talk this out with someone. Anyone.

  Before I know it, I’m calling Pippa, and she answers on the second ring.

  “Well, hey there!” she greets. Her voice is bubbly and adorable, and I grimace because I don’t even know what I want to achieve with this conversation. “How goes it in New York, love?”

  “Uh…it’s okay,” I say, but my voice is all shaky and weird.

  “Just okay? Bloody hell, you sound awful. Are you all right?”

  “I’m just tired is all.” I toss out a vague truth. “Been a long week. Pretty sure I’ve slept eight hours in the past five days.”

  The lack of sleep is all due to the fact that I’ve been working like a dog even though I don’t need to be. But every time I find myself in my apartment, thoughts of Theo start to consume me, and I feel like a caged animal who just needs to get some fucking air.

  “Are you sure that’s it?”

  “Of course.” I try to brush her off. “So, how are you doing?”

  “Lena.”

  “What?”

  “I lived with you long enough to understand your fucking moods. I can tell something else is going on,” she states, and her voice is laced with concern. “Did something happen?”

  “No.” Yes.

  “Lena Hawkins, don’t lie to me.”

  When tears start to fill my eyes again, I try to swallow back the urge to sob like a baby, but Pippa’s ears must be fucking bionic because she manages to catch on.

  “Are you crying, love?” she asks, and the worry in her voice only makes it harder not to cry. “Lena, honey, please tell me what’s going on. I’m starting to panic over here.”

  “I think I fucked up,” I say, my voice trembling over each word.

  “I get that you’re all inside your feelings right now, but you’re going to have to give me a little more here… Why do you think you fucked up?”

  Why do I think that? Because I did fuck up. I ruined everything!

  I sit down on the edge of my bathtub and the urge to sob consumes me.

  “Because I broke up with Theo!” I wail. “But I don’t think I wanted to break up with him. Actually, I know I didn’t want to break up with him.” I put my head in my hands again. “Fuck. I’m an idiot, Pip!”

  “It’s okay,” she reassures, even though we both know it’s not okay. Nothing is okay right now. “Slow down, take a breath, and maybe start at the beginning, you know, and tell me who Theo is…” She pauses and then asks, “Wait a bloody minute…why is that name familiar?”

  I sniffle. “Because you’ve met him.”

  “I’ve met him?” she questions, but instantly, changes her clueless tune. “Is this the same Theo that you met during our holiday in Positano?”

  I snag a piece of toilet paper from the roll and blow my nose. “Uh-huh.”

  “What?!” she shouts so loud into the phone that I have to pull the receiver away from my ear. “You were in a relationship with him after we left? How do I not know about any of this?”

  “I don’t know.” I sigh through a stifled breath. “Every time I tried to call you, it was either too late or too early. Time zones fucking suck.”

  “Well, I’m all ears now,” she says. “Bloody catch me up.”

  And I just kind of give in to her demands. I open the valve of confusion and feelings and details about what happened between Theo and me and let it all pour out.

  I tell her everything.

  How we saw each other again. How we snuck around behind my brother’s back.

  How my brother punched Theo at Milo and Maybe’s reception.

  How fucking excited my mother was over the idea of me marrying a wealthy man.

  And how I freaked out over how I was willing to skip out of my internship for a few days to go to Paris with him, and it just kind of spiraled into an awful breakup.

  “Damn, that’s some story.”

  I swipe the tears from my cheeks. “Tell me about it.”

  “And Vicky is an asshole.”

  “I mean, I know that, but she doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

  “Uh…yes, she does,” she retorts. “Bloody hell,
Lena, why do you let your awful mother get inside your head?”

  “That’s not what I did here.”

  “You sure about that?” she tosses back. “Because it all seemed pretty perfect until your dad’s birthday dinner when she got a snooty boner over the idea that you were going to give up on your fucking dream and marry some rich husband.”

  “That’s not what happened.”

  “Lena, come on,” Pippa says through a long sigh. “Snap out of the denial and face the reality. Even though this doesn’t need to be said, I’m going to say it. Your mother is wrong. You can have a career in fashion, and you can have a sexy man by your side while you’re doing it. It’s not a one or the other kind of thing. You can have both.”

  Did I really let my mother’s vile words get inside my head and infect me?

  Of course that’s what you did, you idiot. It’s what you always do.

  My stomach churns with the comprehension, and I swallow against the nausea.

  “Do you really like him, Lena?” Pippa’s voice fills my ear. “Do you want to be with Theo?”

  “I…” I pause, and Pippa chimes in.

  “You what?”

  “I think I love him, Pip.” It’s the first time I’ve said that word out loud about Theo, and instantly, I feel both incredibly sad and relieved. How could I let him go when he has my fucking heart?

  “You think, or you know?”

  “I know.”

  Jesus, Mary, and all the saints, I really do love him.

  I know to my fucking bones that I love Theo.