Page 83 of Filthy Rich Single Daddies

"Alright, girl," I say to the silence, "let’s write a new story."

Chapter 26

Skylar

The spray of the shower pelts against my skin, a rhythmic drumming that matches the chaos still swirling in my mind. I stand there longer than I should, letting the steam cloud my thoughts. Today’s the day.

Well, today’s the day I finally figured things out. So, in that sense, today’s a pretty monumental day. But more than anything, today is the day I’m going to tell them how I feel.

I shut off the water, the sudden silence almost deafening. Wrapping myself in a towel, I avoid the mirror. I don’t need a reminder of the uncertainty dogging me by looking at my worried reflection. My hair sticks to my shoulders, still wet as I head back to my room, my heart racing in time with my footsteps.

I shuffle through my wardrobe, pulling out a sweater and jeans—a simple choice, nothing too fussy. It’s just an outfit, but today it feels like armor, like something I can hide behind while I find the words I need to say.

I take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself. The kids are still sleeping, and I know I need to move fast if I want to talk to the men before they leave for work. This is my moment. There’s no turning back now.

I'm not going to let myself hide anymore. I want to write a new story—with them.

As I dress, the silence of the house presses in on me. The kids, bless their unpredictable sleeping patterns, have been granting me these small pockets of quiet in the mornings. I'll take it as a sign, a sliver of opportunity to say what needs to be said without the distraction of their youthful curiosity.

A glance at the clock warns me that time is slipping away. If I'm going to catch Cohen, Austin, and Theo before they scatter to their respective corners of the world—or, y’know, the office they share—I need to move. Now. I swipe a hand through my hair, giving up on taming down the damp waves. Let them think I'm not put together. Maybe it'll soften them up for the onslaught of confessions.

My bare feet pad across the cool hardwood floor, carrying me toward the kitchen where morning light spills through the windows, casting the room in a gentle glow. The scent of coffee lingers in the air, mixing with the faint aroma of toasted bread. Someone is awake. That’s a good sign.

"Today’s the day," I whisper to myself, a mantra to bolster my courage. "You can do this."

My heart hammers a frantic beat as I make my way down the hallway. This is it. I'm about to lay everything bare—the fears, the desires, the stubborn pride that's kept me from admitting how deeply they’ve burrowed into my life.

"Morning," I greet them, forcing a smile onto my face as I find all three of them gathered around the kitchen island. They're a striking trio: Cohen’s slightly scruffy appearance belies the stormy thoughts behind his ocean-colored eyes; Austin’s suit isthe armor of a man who's built walls so high he might not see over them himself; Theo leans against the counter, casual but alert, his light brown curls refusing to be tamed.

Their heads turn in unison, weary gazes meeting mine. Despite the early hour, the weight of the world already seems to rest on their shoulders.

"Hey, Skylar," Cohen greets, his voice tinged with the fatigue that comes from juggling too much alone.

"Can we talk? Just for a minute before you all head out," I say, trying not to let my voice waver. There's no hiding the seriousness of my request, the way my hands unconsciously fiddle with the edge of my sweater.

Austin raises an eyebrow, his calculated stance unwavering. "Of course. Is everything all right?"

"Everything's...it will be," I manage, my heart pounding a rhythm that threatens to break free from my chest.

Theo pushes off from the counter, his stubbled jaw set in a line that tells me he's bracing for whatever comes next. "We're listening, Skylark."

I stand there, anxiety making my hands shake and my thoughts scatter. My fingers are twisting and untwisting around each other. The silence stretches—a rubber band pulled taut, ready to snap.

"Sky?" Theo prompts, his voice gentle, as if he senses the turmoil beneath my cool exterior.

"Right," I breathe out, steadying myself. I force my hands to stillness, to let go of the fabric of my sweater, and instead, they find each other, clasping in a bid for strength. They've been patient with me—God, so patient—and it's time I match their courage with my own.

The next words slip out before I can censor them, raw and trembling. "I love you."

It's as if I've dropped a crystal glass, the silence shattering around us. Their expressions are frozen, caught between disbelief and hope. And I'm stunned too because those three words were not part of my planned speech.

But now they hang in the air, stubborn and defiant, a truth I can no longer contain. The confession reverberates in the quiet kitchen, echoing off stainless steel appliances and marble countertops.

"Sky..." Cohen starts, but I hold up a hand, needing to push through the barrier I've just broken.

"No, let me finish," I insist, my voice finding strength as I face the enormity of what I've just revealed. "This isn't how I expected it to come out, but it's out there now. And it's real." My gaze flits from one to the other, locking onto eyes filled with questions and, perhaps, the dawning of understanding.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself against the kitchen island. The cool marble beneath my fingertips grounds me, its smooth surface a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions inside me.

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