Page 19 of Filthy Rich Single Daddies

"Seems like there's a lot of 'complicated' going around," I mutter to myself.

Chapter 7

Skylar

The key slides into the lock with a satisfying click as I push open the door to the carriage house. The silence inside is a stark contrast to the chaos swirling in my mind.

It’s a miracle I even made it back here in one semi-sane piece. As soon as I’m inside, I lean against the cool wall, letting out a long breath I didn't realize I was holding.

What the actual hell just happened?

I stumble to the kitchen, my legs feeling like jelly. The cabinets mock me with their emptiness as I search for something—anything—to take the edge off. Finally, I spot it: a dusty bottle of red wine tucked away in the corner. I would love something much,muchstronger, but it looks like this is all I have. It'll have to do.

As I wrestle with the cork, my thoughts drift back to the meeting. Austin's stern face, Cohen's sheepish grin, and Theo...God, Theo. The cork pops free, startling me out of my reverie.

"Get it together, Skylar," I mutter, pouring a generous glass.

The wine is bitter on my tongue, but I welcome the burn. I collapse onto the plush couch, kicking off my shoes and curling my legs beneath me. The fabric is soft against my skin, a small comfort in this mess I've found myself in.

"So, let me get this straight," I say to the empty room, swirling the wine in my glass. "I'm now working for my ex-boyfriend's best friend, and his brother, who also happens to be the guy I had a wild weekend with in Vegas." I take another sip, wincing at the taste. "Oh, and did I mention said ex-boyfriend—the one who randomly reappeared and rocked my entire world down to its foundation—lives next door?Withmy new employers. Fucking fantastic."

The weight of the situation settles over me like a heavy blanket. I close my eyes, willing the world to make sense again. But all I can see is Theo's face—those intense green eyes that used to look at me with such adoration, which is now clouded by the years that have passed.

"This is fine," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Everything's fine. I'll just pretend I don't know any of them. Professional boundaries and all that jazz."

But even as the words leave my lips, I know it's impossible. The history between us is too tangled, too raw. At least Cohen doesn’t seem to remember that mind-blowing weekend. That hurts like hell but it makes my life easier. I take another swig of wine, grimacing at the taste. It's going to be a long night of sorting through these thoughts.

"Well, Skylar," I mutter to myself, "you love a good fresh start. Congratulations, you've got yourself one hell of a complicated mess instead."

A sharp knock at the door jolts me from my wine-induced pity party. My heart skips a beat as I catch a glimpse of familiar tousled brown curls through the window.

Theo.

I freeze, wine glass halfway to my lips. Part of me wants to pretend I'm not home, to close the curtains and hide from the complications he represents. But my traitorous feet are already moving toward the door.

"Come on, Skylark," his muffled voice carries through the wood. "I know you're in there."

I hesitate, hand on the doorknob. Opening this door means opening a Pandora's box of emotions I'm not sure I'm ready to face. But the nickname tugs at something deep inside me, a reminder of lazy summer days and stolen kisses. Of how he used to tell me I was never meant to be caged.

"Dammit," I mutter, yanking the door open just wide enough for him to slip inside.

Theo's eyes light up as he sees me, a crooked smile playing on his lips. "Hey," he says softly, running a hand through his hair. "I, uh...I owe you an apology."

I cross my arms, trying to ignore how good he looks in his well-fitted jeans and casual button-down. "For what? Not mentioning you lived next door when you appeared at my door last night? Or for the fact that you're besties with my new boss?"

He winces. "Both? Look, Skylar, I'm sorry. I should have said something."

“Before or after you were buried inside me?”

“Skylark…”

I want to be angry. I want to unleash all the frustration and confusion of the day on him. But exhaustion wins out, and I find myself sighing instead. "I'm too tired to be mad right now, Theo. It's been...a day."

"I can imagine," he says, his green eyes searching my face. "Can we talk? I promise I'll explain everything."

I hesitate, knowing I should send him away. But the familiar warmth of his presence is already seeping into my bones,making me yearn for the connection we once had. Against my better judgment, I step back, allowing him fully into my space.

"Fine," I concede, "but this doesn't change anything. We can't just pick up where we left off."

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