10. Austin
Chapter 10
Austin
I storm down the hallway, my footsteps echoing off the marble floors. "Fucking Theo and his bullshit claims," I mutter under my breath, my jaw clenched tight. "Women digging their claws in, ruining everything we've built."
The weight of his words still sits heavy on my shoulders, digging in like sharp nails. I rub at the back of my neck, trying to shake the tension that seems to coil tighter with every step. It doesn’t help. Nothing does lately.
The living room comes into view, and I stop short. She’s back on the couch with the kids.
Beautiful trouble, curled up on the oversized leather sofa like she belongs there. Her caramel-brown hair catches the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows, turning it to warm, golden strands. She’s reading to Lucas and Elodie again, her melodic voice soft but animated as she brings the story to life.
I should interrupt. Tell her to pack up and go. But my feet stay rooted, my eyes drawn to the scene like I’m watching a car crash I can’t look away from. Her finger traces the words on the page as she reads, her movements graceful and precise. She’s not just reading—she’s guiding. Teaching.
She gives Lucas and Elodie turns, coaxing them gently when they stumbles over a word. Elodie’s confidence has been a struggle lately, especially with reading. It’s usually like pulling teeth to get her to practice, but here she is, focused, determined. And smiling.
Skylar makes it look effortless.
A sharp pang hits me square in the chest. I rub at it absently, willing the sensation away. What is it about her that gets under my skin like this? It’s not just irritation—it’s something deeper, something I don’t want to name.
"And then the brave knight..." Skylar's words fade as she looks up, those piercing hazel eyes locking onto mine.
"Dad!" Lucas' eyes light up as he spots me, his small face beaming. "You're back!"
I force my hand away from my chest, squaring my shoulders. My suit feels too tight suddenly, the fabric constricting as I try to shake off the lingering discomfort. "I am, bud. I see you're still here," I say to Skylar, my tone clipped.
Skylar arches one perfectly shaped eyebrow, her lips curving into a faint smirk. "Your powers of observation never cease to amaze me, Austin."
The kids giggle, and the sound grates against the frayed edges of my patience. "I thought you'd be gone by now," I say, taking a step closer. My voice hardens, the words coming out sharper than I intended. “We’re home now. Your services are no longer required.”
She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink. Instead, she sits up straighter, the movement so subtle it’s almost imperceptible, but I see it. It’s a challenge, one I recognize immediately.
"It turns out they didn’t have any homework and they requested another story," she replies smoothly, her gaze steady and unwavering. "Unlike some people, I find it difficult to deny them simple pleasures."
The barb stings, but I refuse to let it show. Instead, I cross my arms over my chest, the fabric of my tailored suit pulling tight across my shoulders. "And you always do exactly what the children want, is that it?"
Skylar's lips curve into a sardonic smile, and the sight sends another jolt through me. Damn her. "Oh, Austin," she purrs, "if I always did what others wanted, I wouldn't be here at all, would I?"
Her words linger in the air between us, charged and heavy. Another pang in my chest, sharper this time. I ignore it, focusing instead on the way her slender fingers toy with the edge of the book. Why does everything she does infuriate me so much?
"Uncle Austin," Elodie pipes up, her small face peering around Skylar's arm, her wide eyes hopeful. "Can Skylar stay for dinner? Please?"
I open my mouth to refuse, but Lucas jumps in before I can speak. "Yeah, please?" His grin is so earnest, so full of admiration, that it twists something inside me.
I force a smile, but it feels brittle on my face. "I’m sorry, bud, but it's time for Miss Deveraux to head home."
The words have barely left my lips when twin cries of protest erupt from the children, their voices high-pitched and pleading.
"No!" Lucas exclaims, his brown eyes wide with dismay. "C’mon, Dad! Please?"
Elodie chimes in, clutching Skylar’s arm like a lifeline. "Pretty please? We're almost done with the chapter!"
I look at Skylar, silently willing her to decline. To pack up her things and walk out that door. To come back tomorrow just as I’m leaving and vacate my sanctuary the moment I return home.
But there’s a glint in her eye that tells me she’s not going to make this easy for me. She tilts her head, studying me with an infuriatingly calm expression, as if daring me to put the children’s happiness second.
I harden my gaze, silently demanding she make an excuse and leave us in peace. Leave me in peace.
But she doesn’t. Of course she doesn’t.
I know she can read it. I know she’s aware that I don’t want her here, invading our space any more than she needs to be. But, I also know that she’s not going to give me what I want. She is, however, going to make the children very happy.
So, why doesn’t that make me happy?
"Well," she drawls, "I suppose I could stay. If it's not too much trouble, of course."
I struggle to maintain my composure, caught between the children's eager faces and my burning desire to see Skylar walk out the door. The tension in the room is palpable, and I can feel my carefully constructed control slipping away with each passing second.
Every glance from Lucas and Elodie tugs at the fraying threads of my resolve, their innocent excitement chipping away at the walls I've worked so hard to keep intact.
Just as I'm about to put my foot down and insist on Skylar's departure, Theo's voice cuts through the thick silence like a knife through butter, shattering the moment with his usual nonchalance.
"Come on, Austin," he says, sauntering into the room with that infuriatingly easy smile of his, hands stuffed casually in his pockets like he doesn’t have a care in the world. "Let the kids finish their story. And, of course, we would love to have Skylar stay for dinner, right?"
The muscles in my jaw tightens as I turn to glare at him. Of course, Theo would side with the children. Of course, he'd swoop in at the last second, playing the role of the laid-back uncle, and undermine my authority without a second thought. He always has to be the fun one, the favorite.
That’s never bothered me before. They need that, need his lighthearted happiness. So, why is it suddenly a problem?I’ll tell you why. Skylar Fucking Deveraux.
"I'm sure Miss Deveraux has other plans," I grit out, keeping my eyes locked on Skylar. She meets my gaze with that maddening smirk, the one that makes my blood boil and my pulse quicken in ways I refuse to acknowledge.
"Actually, my evening is wide open," she says smoothly, her tone light and full of challenge. "I'd be delighted to stay."
Her words hang in the air, a gauntlet thrown down between us. The kids' cheers erupt around me, a cacophony of excitement that only fuels the fire burning in my chest. I can feel control slipping further and further from my grasp, and it’s infuriating. She’s infuriating.
"Fine," I manage to say, the word bitter on my tongue, each syllable laced with frustration I can't fully conceal. "But just for dinner."
The kids erupt in cheers, and I feel my control slipping even further. Skylar's brash confidence, her ability to push my buttons with just a look or a word, it's all too much.
Lucas and Elodie leap to their feet, their laughter filling the room as they chatter excitedly about what Skylar’s presence might mean for the rest of the evening. Skylar, for her part, looks positively triumphant, her smirk deepening as though she’s just won some unspoken battle between us.
It sends another jolt through me, a mixture of anger and something else I can't quite name. Something I'm not ready to examine too closely.
I turn on my heel and leave, the sound of their laughter following me down the hallway like a taunt. My fists clench at my sides, the muscles in my shoulders taut with tension. Everything about this woman gets under my skin. Her brash confidence, her infuriating ability to push my buttons with nothing more than a glance or a word.
The sound of Theo's laughter and the kids' excited chatter follows me down the hallway, each step fueling my anger.
When I reach my office, I slam the door shut behind me, the sound echoing in the stillness. My sanctuary, the one place in this house where I can think clearly, feels stifling tonight. I cross the room in quick, purposeful strides, yanking open the cabinet and pouring myself a stiff drink. The amber liquid burns its way down my throat, but the fiery sensation does nothing to dull the irritation simmering beneath my skin.
She’s chaos wrapped up in a deceptively pretty package, and the longer she’s here, the more obvious it becomes that she’s a threat to everything I’ve spent years building.
Everything about her irritates me. She’s brash, sassy, and always pushing back against me.
And Theo? Don’t even get me started. His easy camaraderie with Skylar, his unflappable charm—he doesn’t see what I see. He doesn’t understand the danger she represents, the way she disrupts the balance I’ve fought so hard to maintain. He claimed her. Fucking claimed her, and just expected us to fall in line.
But what really gets to me, what twists the knife even deeper, is the way Cohen looks at her. Like she’s some kind of puzzle he’s dying to solve. Or the way Theo talks to her so easily, drawing out her laughter like it’s the simplest thing in the world.
And Cohen’s comment about sharing? No. Hell fucking no.
What I need to do is find a permanent nanny. End this ridiculous charade so I never have to deal with her again.
So why does the idea of her leaving make me just as angry as having her here every day?
The sound of laughter pulls me out of my thoughts. The kids. I throw back the rest of my drink and loosen my tie, heading to my bedroom. The plush carpet muffles my footsteps as I enter. The expansive space, with its muted grays and blues, usually offers a sense of calm. Today, it feels stifling.
I loosen my tie further, the silk sliding through my fingers as I toss it onto the bed. "Get it together, Austin," I mutter, unbuttoning my shirt.
The suits are necessary for work, but when it’s just the kids and me, I like to keep it more relaxed. Things have been chaotic enough since the divorces—what they need is stability, calm.
The room feels oppressively quiet. Too many thoughts swirl in my head, each one tugging at my focus like a tide I can’t fight.
As I change into a soft Henley and dark jeans, I can't help but think about the kids. Lucas' shy smile, Elodie's infectious laugh. They've been through so much.
I lean against the dresser, studying my reflection in the mirror. The man staring back looks tired, the weight of responsibility etched in the lines around his eyes. "They deserve some peace," I whisper.
I run a hand down my face and try to settle my mood. I don’t like to be this…this controlling force of nature with the kids. Okay, I can do this. I can endure her presence for one dinner to make the kids happy.
Padding barefoot out of the bedroom, I hear Skylar's voice, warm and encouraging. "That's it, Lucas! Now, what do you think happens next in the story?"
I pause in the hallway, out of sight, and listen.
"Maybe...maybe the dragon isn't really mean?" Lucas suggests, his voice hesitant but hopeful. "What if he's just scared and lonely?"
"Oh, I like that!" Skylar exclaims. "What do you think, Elodie?"
"Yes!" Elodie chimes in. "And the princess can be his friend! They can have tea parties and fly through the clouds together!"
Their laughter mingles, a sound so pure it makes my chest ache. I lean against the wall, closing my eyes.
"Damn it," I whisper, the realization hitting me like a punch to the gut. As much as I hate to admit it, Skylar might be exactly what the kids need right now. They deserve calm, stability. And that seems to be exactly what she provides them.
I clench my fists, frustration boiling inside me. Why did it have to be her? Why did it have to be this infuriating woman who gets under my skin like no one else?
Taking a deep breath, I steel myself and step into the living room. The scene before me—Skylar curled up on the couch with Lucas and Elodie on either side, all three engrossed in a colorful storybook—sends another pang through my chest.
"Looks like you're having fun," I say, aiming for casual but hearing the strain in my voice.
Three pairs of eyes turn to me, and I brace myself for whatever comes next.