Page 81 of Filthy Rich Single Daddies

My breath stutters. "Birdie, that's not what I meant—"

"Then say what you do mean," she says, her voice gentle but steady. "Because as far as I'm concerned, you are my family. And I don’t need blood to make it so."

When I don’t respond, she continues: “Family can be built, not just born, Skylar. And being alone doesn’t mean you have to be lonely. Remember that."

She squeezes my hand before letting go, settling back against the pillows.

“And, what about the boys?”

I’m quiet for a long moment, then finally shrug, trying to feign casual. Birdie raises an eyebrow, a soft smile tugging at her lips. She waits. And waits.

Dammit.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I confess, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I told myself I wouldn’t get involved, that I’d keep my distance, but somehow, I’m in the middle of this tangled mess, and I don’t know how to get out. Or if I even want to.” My voice drops to a whisper. “And that’s the worst part.”

Birdie doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look surprised. She just nods like she’s been waiting for me to catch up to what she already knew.

“They make you happy?” she asks simply.

I let out a breath, running a hand through my hair. “Yes. No. I mean…sometimes. And other times, they make me want to scream.”

Birdie chuckles. “Sounds about right.”

“I don’t do this,” I admit, gesturing vaguely. “Relationships. Feelings. Letting people in. But with them…it’s like I don’t have a choice. And it scares the hell out of me.”

Birdie squeezes my hand again, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “That’s how you know it’s real, sweetheart.”

I blink at her, my throat tight.

“Life’s gonna change whether you want it to or not,” she continues, her voice softer now. “The question is—are you gonna fight it the whole way, or are you gonna let yourself have something good for once?”

I watch her chest rise and fall with a steadiness I crave as my own breath comes in jagged pulls. The beep of her heart monitor is a metronome to my spiraling thoughts, a reminder that life ticks on even when you feel stuck.

"Skylar," Birdie says, her voice cutting through the fog of my mind. "You're still holding back. Spill it."

My gaze flicks to her, then away. I study the sterile white walls, anything to avoid those knowing eyes.

"It's...complicated," I finally admit, feeling the tension knot up in my shoulders. "Theo, Austin, Cohen—they're all tangled up in this mess that's my life." I pause, swallowing hard. "They're from that world. The one I've been running from. And yet..." My voice trails off, betraying the conflict within.

"And yet?" Birdie prompts, her tone soft but insistent.

"Despite everything, I've fallen for them. Hard." The words tumble out, laced with an edge of disbelief. "But how can I trust they'll stick around? Choose me?”

No one else has. Theo included.

“Haven’t they already?”

“What?”

“Well, they offered you a job. They drove you to the hospital after my unfortunate incident. Stayed with you too, if I’m not mistaken. Then they offered you a home too, didn’t they?”

“All of that is temporary.”

“Is it? Don’t let fear make the decision for you, sweetheart.”

She reaches out, her touch grounding. Her eyes hold mine, fierce and unwavering. "You create your own family. With friends, with lovers. It's about the people who choose you, who stand by you."

"Choose me," I echo, the concept foreign yet intoxicating.

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