Page 85 of My Ex's Billionaire Brothers

He grunts in agreement, sipping more coffee. “I appreciate it. The past few days have been…something else.”

“Yeah,” I say softly, flipping the bacon. The sizzle fills the silence.

Before I can think of something to say next, Jessica appears in the doorway, hair slightly damp from what I assume is a quickmorning shower. “See, honey?” she teases him gently. “I told you the house wouldn’t be burned to the ground while we were out.”

“I stand corrected. No fires. Just breakfast.”

I pile waffles on plates and carry them to the table, setting down fresh butter, syrup, and a bowl of mixed berries. Alexei nods his thanks, then asks the question I’ve been half expecting, “So, uh…how are things going with you and Anya?”

“With me and Anya?” I echo, uncertain if he means just me, or all of us collectively.

He clears his throat, looking uncomfortable. “I mean, all of you. This arrangement. It’s…” He waves his free hand as though searching for the right word. “It’s unusual.”

Jessica nudges his arm gently. “Lex,” she admonishes, then turns to me with an apologetic smile. “We’re just curious, dear. We want to make sure Anya’s happy and safe.”

“And if you want my honest opinion, she seems happier than I’ve ever seen her. We take care of her. All three of us do.”

Jessica nods slowly. “She…glows, these days.”

“She has that effect on people.”

Alexei sets down his fork, swirling it in the syrup. “Gage has been…interesting. He doesn’t talk much, but when he does, you feel like you need to listen.”

“Always been that way, ever since I can remember…”

For a while, we chat easily. They ask about the drive between Boston and Castle Beach, about how I got into judo, about how we all came to own multiple businesses. They even tease me about how I must have been a handful in high school, gettinginto fights and testing boundaries. It’s disarmingly pleasant—and I find myself relaxing.

A small voice in my head still nags that this could be an elaborate ruse, that they might turn on us at any second. But I push that thought aside. Anya’s parents don’t seem the type for underhanded games. They’re forthright and fiercely protective of their daughter. I respect that.

Soon, Anya steps into view, wearing pajamas, her hair a little wild around her face. Behind her trail Gage and Theo. My heart does a little flip at the sight of them—my family, in a sense—in the middle of her family’s home.

“Good morning,” Anya says, voice husky with sleep. She spots the breakfast spread and practically moans. “Waffles…yes.”

I grin. “Mornin’, sweetheart.”

She comes right up to me, goes on her tiptoes, and plants a kiss on my cheek. Then she grabs a plate, piling on waffles and bacon. “Mom, Dad, you’re back early.”

Jessica smiles. “We are. We had a lovely time at the hotel with your aunt, but we got up early to come see you.”

Alexei nods, lips pressed into a thin line. “I guess…this,” he nods at where Anya has just kissed me, “is something I’ll have to get used to, huh?”

She plops into the chair next to him, biting into a crispy strip of bacon. “You will, Dad,” she says calmly. “I believe in you.”

A surprised laugh bursts out of me. The six of us sitting around the table. But it feels right in a way I couldn’t have predicted a few days ago.

“For what it’s worth, I’m trying, Anya.”

Jessica pats his arm. “That’s all we can do, dear.”

It strikes me then how different this is from my upbringing—where every fight or disagreement ended in yelling, or stony silence, or manipulative tears. Anya’s parents might not understand her choices, but they’re not about to hold them against her. They’re trying to be open, to support her.

It’s refreshing. Honest. The Carver clan rarely does honest. We do secrets, half-truths, agendas. Carver honesty comes in a brutal form, designed to leave emotional scars. So, this is new terrain for me, and I like it.

The conversation goes on, meandering between talk of fence repairs, upcoming plans, and some piece of local gossip involving a neighbor’s lost dog. I keep the coffee cups filled, and Anya demolishes two waffles while Gage manages three. Theo contents himself with just one, but he slathers it with butter in a way that would surely horrify his usual low-fat diet.

Eventually, my chest feels so full I can barely contain it, so I grab a clean glass, pour some orange juice, and raise it. “I’d like to propose a toast.”

Everyone quiets, eyes turning to me with mild curiosity.