Page 10 of Filthy Rich Single Daddies

The sound of laughter drifts from the carriage house, carried on the gentle breeze. It's faint, barely audible, but it makes my heart skip a beat. I strain to hear more, to catch a glimpse of movement behind the curtained windows.

"You're losing it, man," I tell myself, running a hand over my stubbled jaw. "Next thing you know, you'll be camping out here with binoculars."

But I can't bring myself to move. I stand there, rooted to the spot, my eyes fixed on the carriage house as if it holds all the answers to questions I've been asking for years. What if this is the moment everything changes? What if this is the moment I get the chance to make things right? My mind races in a thousand different directions, but my feet stay firmly planted, unwilling to move, unwilling to let go of the fantasy that it might actually be her.

That she might still feel the same, too.

I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming jasmine. The memories flood back, unbidden. Skylar and I, sneaking out at night to meet in her family's garden. The way her hazel eyes sparkled in the moonlight, as though she held the entire universe in her gaze. The soft curve of her lips when she smiled at me, a secret just for the two of us.

The weight of those memories presses on me, pulling me under like an anchor. "Enough," I mutter, pushing away from the wall. "This is ridiculous."

But my feet have a mind of their own. Before I know it, I'm walking across the lawn, each step bringing me closer to the carriage house. To her. My heart pounds in my chest, a thunderous rhythm that drowns out all other sounds.

I try to ignore the ache in my chest—the one that’s always been there, waiting for the right time to resurface. If I focus, maybe I can shut it off again. Maybe I can just see her, confirm whether it’s really her, and walk away like nothing happened. But I know that’s a lie. Deep down, I know that if I see her again, I’ll never be able to walk away.

I pause at the edge of the path leading up to the front door. "What are you doing, Theo?" I ask myself, but I already know the answer. I need to see her, to know if it's really her.

My hand trembles as I reach out. I hesitate, then pull back. No, this is crazy. What if she’s not here? What if she has company? The thought sends a rush of pain through my body. For a moment, I consider turning around, heading back inside, pretending I never saw the carriage house at all. Pretending I didn’t feel my entire world shift when I heard Austin say her name.

But then I shake my head, trying to clear it. "Focus, Theo. You’re here to confirm her identity, not..."

I trail off, unable to finish the thought. Taking another deep breath, I raise my hand and knock on the door, the sound echoing in the quiet afternoon.

"Just a minute!" a voice calls from inside, and my world stops spinning.

That voice. I’d know it anywhere. It’s her. It’s really her. My stomach flips, my pulse races, and for a brief moment, I forget how to breathe.

The door swings open, and suddenly, I’m face to face with Skylar Deveraux.MySkylar Deveraux. Time seems to stop as I drink in the sight of her.

She's changed, but then again, she hasn’t. Her chestnut hair is longer now, falling in soft waves around her shoulders, brushing against the curve of her neck. Those hazel eyes I remember so well are wide with shock, framed by dark lashes that make her look like she’s stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine.

My gaze travels down, taking in the barely-there shorts and low-cut tank top she’s wearing. I swallow hard, trying to keep my composure. She looks as stunning as I remember, and the weight of all the years between us presses down on me like a storm.

"Theo?" she breathes, her voice a mix of disbelief and something else I can't quite place.

The sound of my name on her lips breaks something inside me. Without thinking, I reach out, my hand cupping the back of her neck. I pull her toward me, pressing my lips to hers with an urgency I didn't know I possessed.

God, she feels real. She tastes real. The softness of her lips, the warmth of her skin under my palm—it's all exactly as I remember, yet somehow even better. Every touch, every movement feels like the culmination of everything I’ve been yearning for all this time.

I pour everything I've been holding back for years into this kiss, hoping she can feel it too. The longing, the regret, the love that never truly faded and probably never will. The way her body presses against mine, like she’s never been gone, like we’ve never been apart, sends a flood of warmth through my veins.

Is this real? Am I dreaming? If I am, I never want to wake up.

Part of me expects her to push me away, to slap me across the face for my audacity. But she doesn't. Instead, I feel her hands gripping my shirt, pulling me closer. I can feel the warmth of her body, the way her breath comes in soft gasps against my lips. It’s real. She’s real.

I deepen the kiss, my tongue tasting the sweetness of her, as though I’m trying to make up for lost time, for all the years I’ve spent wondering what might’ve been. I can barely think as Skylar kisses me back with equal fervor. Her lips are soft yet demanding against mine, and I feel like I'm drowning in sensation. When we finally break apart, both breathless, I rest my forehead against hers.

I look into her eyes, searching for any hint of what she’s feeling. She’s quiet, her chest rising and falling as though she’s struggling to catch her breath too. Her fingers are still curled into my shirt, and I can’t help but wonder if she feels the same urgency, the same fire that’s burning inside me.

"Theo, I don't understand," Skylar whispers, her voice trembling. "How... why are you here?"

I want to explain, to tell her everything, but words escape me. All I can focus on is her proximity, the scent of her shampoo, the way her chest rises and falls with each breath. I've dreamed of this moment for so long, and now that it's here, I'm overwhelmed.

"I can't...I just need..." I trail off, my hands cupping her face. My thumbs trace her cheekbones, relearning the contours I once knew so well. "God, Skylark, I've missed you so much."

Skylar's eyes, still wide with shock and a hint of something else, meet mine. The uncertainty and question in her gaze are palpable, but I can see a glimmer of recognition there, too. A flicker of the past we once shared.

Her lips are still glistening, swollen from our kiss, and I can't help but lean in to taste them again. I want to know everything, feel every inch of her.

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