Page 45 of My Ex's Billionaire Brothers

“Morning,” I singsong, raising my coffee mug in salute. “How’s the great outdoors?”

Gage grunts in reply, clearly attempting a stoic facade. Spoiler—he fails. The way his hand lingers on the small of Anya’s back gives him away. Theo quirks an eyebrow at their disheveled entrance but refrains from commentary. His usual mode.

Anya grabs a plate. “Are those waffles?” Her voice is still husky with sleep or maybe other activities. She spoons jam onto a golden square, eyes widening in appreciation. “These look amazing.”

I snort. “Flattery won’t fix the raw center, sweetheart, but keep it up.”

Gage rakes a jam-dripping waffle onto his plate, throws me a look. “Better than protein powder oatmeal, Hunter. Be grateful.”

“Not according to my nutritionist.” I raise my hands in surrender when he gives me that look. The one that says,I’m older and I know better than that quack. I’m used to his looks by now. With a shrug, I add, “I’m just saying, if Michelin ever starts rating cabins, we might get one tire.”

Anya settles beside me on the floor, cross-legged, plate balanced on her knee. Her shoulder brushes mine, and the contact is sweet as maple syrup. I sense Gage’s gaze flick toward us, not wary, just affectionate. No jealousy, no territorial tension. It’s strangely perfect.

We munch for a bit in cozy silence until Theo clears his throat. “Hunter was regaling me with stories about his father,” he says as he glances at Anya, an invitation.

She perks up. “Oh? Actually, I’ve always wondered about that. Hunter, you don’t look much like Theo or Gage—or any of the other brothers, really.” She dips a waffle corner in jam. “Iassumed some of you might be adopted, but I didn’t want to pry at Christmas dinner. It seemed rude.”

I dab jam from my lip with a napkin. “Not adopted—just a living family tree compiled by Mother’s…shall we say, adventurous spirit.”

“Your mother?” Anya tilts her head. “Adventurous?”

Theo sets his plate aside, folding his long fingers. “Our mother has always desired a daughter. After Gage’s father passed away, she remarried quickly, hoping to conceive one. Instead”—he gestures to me—“she had Hunter.”

I grin, salute with my fork. “Hi.”

Gage picks up the tale, wiping jam from his thumb. “She tried again with another man. No daughter. Then came an affair with the gardener”—he tilts his head toward Theo—“which produced her third son.”

Theo inclines his head with mock solemnity. “My arrival precipitated a divorce; my coloring didn’t match Hunter’s father’s at all, and he had the gall to be upset about it.”

Anya’s jaw drops. “That’s…bold.”

The shock on her face is priceless, so I continue the family lesson. “Oh, she kept going,” I say, brandishing a waffle quarter for emphasis. “Married again, another affair. Eight boys total, each with a different father. She finally gave up on the daughter thing—adopted two Persian cats instead.”

“Pure white,” Theo adds, smirking. “Named them Cash and Credit. I am certain she loved them more than any of us.”

Anya stifles a giggle behind her hand. “That’s hardly old-fashioned.”

“Exactly why Mother got iced out of society luncheons for a spell,” Gage says. “But money and time heal scandal. Eventually, the invitations flowed again.”

She chews thoughtfully. “Is that why Calvin obsesses over appearances? He’s afraid people will judge your family’s…complex tree?”

“Less a tree, more a forest,” I interject, earning her giggle.

Theo nods. “Calvin’s father is uncertain—massage therapist or tennis coach, depending on which rumor you believe. Calvin compensates by curating a flawless public persona. An unknown father and morally slippery mother do not suit his senatorial ambitions.”

Anya dabs a crumb from her lip. “That explains a lot.” Her gaze drops. “Including why he looked for a ‘perfect’ fiancée he could mold.”

Gage’s jaw flexes. I place a steady hand on his arm before he can mutter something scathing about our younger brother. The tension eases, and I feel a weird swell of affection for both Gage and Theo.

It’s hard not to rail on about Calvin after what he did to Anya, and what he’s always done to us. No one in the family is ever good enough for Calvin’s ambitions, and according to him the three of us are the worst, despite our billionaire status. But fuck him—I’m not giving him more thought than I have to. We all fall quiet, the only sounds the crackle of the fire and clink of forks.

To break the silence, I clink my coffee mug against Theo’s glass of water. “Toast!” I declare, voice bright. “To scandalous mothers, eight half brothers, and one gorgeous woman who’s infinitely more interesting than the entire Senate.”

Anya flushes crimson, but her smile lights the room. Gage taps his mug to mine. Theo exhales a soft laugh and follows suit. We drink—coffee, water, whatever’s left—and finish the last waffle crumbs.

As dishes clatter into the sink, my mind churns. I want to offer Anya a place to stay in Boston—my loft has an extra bedroom—and I can always find her a job at my marketing firm. She deserves security, independence from Calvin’s money. But I can’t ambush my brothers with that plan. We need a united front.

Gage wipes the counter. “We should check in with the mechanic, see if he actually ordered the part.”