Page 29 of How to Train Your Billionaire

Objectively, he’s cute.

There, I said it. Tessa would be so proud. And if he weren’t such a total goober, I might feel tingly and intimidated. Thankfully, I don’t, because it’sHayes. And that would just be weird.

I take a sip of my drink and moan. “This is soo good, you want to try it?”

Hayes shakes his head.

“So, what was it like, growing up being you?”

“That’s a loaded question.” He barks out a laugh. “What would you like to know?”

Based on his reaction, I suddenly feel a bit foolish for asking, but I’m already in this deep, I might as well forge ahead. “I mean your family has capitalMmoney.”

He removes the straw from his drink. “We do.”

“And I guess I’m just curious ...”

He shrugs. “It’s nice. I’ll never complain about that.” He takes a sip of his cocktail. “It means having the world at your fingertips, but it also means you’re never really your own person—every move is a reflection of the family’s legacy.”

I never considered there were downsides, so that’s interesting. “What are your parents like?”

He laughs, a short humorless sound. “They’re a complete mess.”

All of this comes as such a shock that I’m momentarily speechless. I figured his family, on the cover of countless magazines, would have it all together. In my head, I’d built it up that they were the perfect family.

“My parents met in the nineties. Dad had a brief stint as a drummer in Cradle to Grave.”

I knew that band. They had one or two massive hits that got significant radio play in my youth. “They had that one song ...” I tap my knee, trying to remember the catchy beat.

“Exactly. They were a one-hit wonder.”

“‘Velvet Riot,’” I snap, proud that I remembered.

“That’s the one.”

“It’s a cool song.”

He shrugs. “Anyway, my mother went to one of their shows and talked her way backstage—which wasn’t difficult. She was Evelyn Winthrop—she was used to getting what she wanted.”

“And what she wanted was a fling with a rock star?”

“Yes. Or more precisely a drummer. Maybe it was some rebellious thing to piss her parents off, who knows.”

“Well, what happened?” I take another sip of my drink.

“What happened was that they hit it off and started dating. Dad was never in love with her or even ready to be a husband. He was young and getting his first taste of success. Then his best friend and bandmate overdosed and died, and it struck something in him. He realized how short life could be and didn’t want to waste any more time. They were married within two months and pregnant with me weeks after.”

“I think I read about that at some point—their lead guitarist—heroin, right?”

Hayes nods. “The band broke up shortly after that. The rest is history.”

“Well, this is a revelation. I always imagined you having this perfect upbringing.”

“Not hardly. My parents can barely stand each other, and my dad fathered a secret child. Maddie—she’s eight now. But they’ll never divorce.”

Did this explain—at least in part—why Hayes was so cranky and jaded? Maybe. I’d need to investigate it further.

But the server takes that moment to deliver my mac ’n’ cheese bites, so any further introspection has to wait. I dig right in—like a voracious trash panda. Hashtag no regrets. The outside is crispy, and the inside is cheesy, gooey goodness.