Page 27 of Filthy Rich Single Daddies

I lean back in my chair, running my hands through my hair and over my face. The tension in the room is palpable, crackling like electricity. Austin's intensity is a force of nature, and I can feel Theo tensing on the couch beside me.

"What happened?" I ask, my voice steady despite the knot forming in my stomach. "What's got you so worked up?"

Austin whirls to face me, his blue eyes stormy. "What happened? What always happens, Cohen. They take and take and take, and when there's nothing left, they find new ways to drive you insane."

I watch him, noting the tight set of his jaw, the way his hands clench and unclench at his sides. This isn't just about his ex-wife; there's something else simmering beneath the surface.

"Is it Brielle again?" I probe gently, knowing I'm treading on thin ice. "Or is there something else going on?"

Austin's laugh is bitter, cutting through the air like a knife. "Brielle, Skylar, does it matter? They're all the same in the end."

At the mention of Skylar's name, my heart skips a beat. I feel a haze of memories associated with her that I can’t quite grasp, no matter how hard I try. It happens every time I think of her. I’m certain I know her from somewhere, I just can’t place her. Now's not the time, though.

"Come on, man," Theo pipes up from the couch, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "You can't lump them all together like that. Skylar's different."

I watch as Austin's gaze snaps to Theo, something dangerous flickering in his eyes. "Is she? Or are you just too blinded by those pretty eyes to see the truth?"

The tension in the room ratchets up another notch. I find myself standing, moving between my brother and my friend, hands raised in a placating gesture. "All right, let's all take a breath here. Austin, what exactly happened?"

Austin's nostrils flare, his jaw clenching as he spits out, "Brielle showed up at the house. Tried to force her way inside." His eyes narrow, voice dripping with disdain. "And you know how I found out? A fucking text from Skylar."

I feel my brow furrow, confusion settling in. "What did you expect her to do?"

Austin doesn't answer, just continues to fume, his chest rising and falling rapidly. I can practically see the steam coming out of his ears. For a moment, I wonder if he's going to start huffing and puffing, ready to blow the whole office down like some corporate Big Bad Wolf.

So much for that drink, I guess.

"Look," I say, trying to keep my voice level, "we should probably head home. Sort this out there."

Theo jumps up from the couch, eager to escape the tension. "Shotgun!" he calls, already heading for the door.

I roll my eyes, following behind as Austin storms out, keys jangling angrily in his hand. As we pile into the car, I can't help but feel a twinge of apprehension. Austin's always been a bit of a speed demon, but when he's pissed? It's like being strapped into a rocket with a death wish.

The engine roars to life, and we peel out of the parking lot, tires screeching. I grip the door handle, my knuckles turning white as Austin weaves through traffic, barely missing a delivery truck.

"Whoa there, Speed Racer!" Theo quips from the front seat, his laughter tinged with nervousness. "I'd like to make it home in one piece, if possible."

I reach up and slap him on the shoulder. Now's not the time for jokes, even if gallows humor is Theo's go-to coping mechanism.

As we narrowly avoid sideswiping a minivan, I can't help but wonder if we'll actually make it home at this rate. My mind drifts to Skylar, to the situation waiting for us. I just hope we live long enough to face it.

Thank fuck we do. Though, it was a close call.

As we pull into the driveway, my heart rate finally begins to slow. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding, the tension draining from my body as the car comes to a full stop. Home. Safe. Thank God.

We pile out of the car, Austin still radiating anger, Theo unusually quiet. I lead the way, pushing open the front door, bracing myself for whatever chaos might await us.

But the scene that greets me stops me dead in my tracks.

There, on the living room couch, is Skylar. She's curled up with Lucas and Elodie on either side of her, a large storybook spread across their laps. Her soft voice carries through the room as she reads, "And the prince said..."

I can't move. Can't breathe. The sight of her there, so at ease with our children, hits me like a punch to the gut.

"Well, isn't this cozy," Austin mutters behind me, his tone sharp.

I barely register his words. My eyes are locked on Skylar's face, watching the way her lips move as she reads, the gentle curve of her neck as she leans down to show the kids a picture.

"Dad!" Lucas spots us first, his face lighting up. "Come listen to the story!"

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