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I've wanted to be a soccer dad, or any type of dad, for a while. But things didn't work out that way. And now, I don't know if they ever will. But first problems first.
I need a plan for my sister’s upcoming wedding.
I can’t show up alone. I haven’t seen my ex-wife in months, and facing her while she’s dating another man… My gut clenches. If this weren’t my sister’s wedding, I wouldn’t go. But how do you say no to Leslie? You don’t.
And Tamara is one of Leslie’s best friends. She’ll be there no matter what.
With my money and wealth, I’ve said no to hundreds of people. Turned down deals that didn't meet my requirements. Yet my sister is a different story.
Showing up with a date is the best way to get family members off my back and get my feelings in check. A part of me doesn't know if I miss Tamara—but I don’t want to find out while she’s dating some other dude, and I’m alone. That would be beyond pathetic.
I ended my marriage because Tamara didn't want to have kids, and two years later, I didn't even have a date. A hot wave of embarrassment washes through me. Showing up completely alone, without a prospect, is the worst scenario.
“Hey,” says a female voice from the bushes. “I have an idea.”
I turn to see the woman wearing a dark purple dress that outlines her curvy figure. She’s medium height, with wavy brown hair, and as she steps into the light, I notice her dark green eyes.
"Who are you?" I ask. Because of my wealth, throughout my life, I've seen my share of people coming out of the woodwork pitching causes or businesses I should invest in. But it’s the first time a woman has literally come out of the bushes.
She smooths her hand over her dress, shaking a few leaves off. Should I tell her a couple of them are stuck in her hair? A strange urge to remove those leaves almost overwhelms me.
“I accidentally overheard you talking to Sebastian,” she says. “About needing a sugar baby?”
“Not necessarily a sugar baby. I need a date,” I say, annoyance leaking into my voice. What if she’s one of those social media personalities who likes to snoop on the rich and famous? Though I’ve always kept my life private, and I doubt someone her age with her probable demographic would be interested in me.
I walk away from the pool, heading away from her, but she launches in front of me with a nervous smile and hands lifted.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore. I can be your plus-one.”
I come to an abrupt halt so I don’t bump into her. “You?”
She nods quickly. “Listen, I’m Sebastian’s sister-in-law, Sylvie Wyatt. I’m not a party crasher, I swear,” she says, all edgy energy. “Anyhow, I’m shopping for a boyfriend. I’d like a more experienced, successful one this time, but it’s hard to pull that kind of man. I'm not rich or sophisticated and could use some help. I wanted to join Sugar & Silk but never heard back after a couple of interviews. And you said you know a partner—maybe you can help me get in."
I frown, still processing her idea. “What? Why?”
A flash of vulnerability hits her eyes. She lifts her chin. “I need to join the agency so I can meet interesting men and start getting second dates.”
“Gotcha,” I say. If she talks as much as she is now on a date, it’s no wonder she doesn’t get asked again.
“Yes. My life got messy. My ex was an alcoholic, and he did a number on me. So I want to make sure the next guy I date is a winner,” she says, a smile forming on her trembling lips.
“Is this a joke?” I ask. Am I seriously considering her offer? I just learned her name, and within seconds, she’s already told me her life story.
She's not… unattractive, I realize as I look at her. She's not a top model, but she has a girl next door vibe. If I showed up with someone like her at the wedding party, maybe it’d be more authentic than bringing an exquisitely tall, super skinny model with flawless manners. Because that’s what they’d expect of me.
But a pretty girl with kind eyes and curves? The wheels in my brain work in fast motion.
That would certainly make a statement.
Tamara would be intrigued. I’ve been a bit lost since the end of my marriage, but that doesn’t mean I want anyone to know. Certainly not Tamara.
And my family would finally understand that I date whoever I want—not the women they’ve been pestering me with. Interesting.
"No. I promise you it's not. Trust me, I wish it was. Dating is tough. I want to make sure my next victim is successful. Can you imagine if I told people I dated a billionaire? That'd give me some street cred. Or dating cred. Hell, I’ll take any cred.”
“Listen, we wouldn’t date for real. I divorced two years ago, and I’m not looking to date randomly. This would be only for the optics.” I wouldn’t date someone like her—young and naïve. She’d come with her own set of problems. Besides, she probably doesn’t want to get married and have kids. When I date again, it has to be with someone who has the same goal. I learned my lesson with Tamara.
She claps her hands together. “Perfect. I’ll take optics.”
