Page 23 of If Love Had A Manual (Skeptically In Love #2)

Wes

“I know I don’t have to tell you, but I’m going to say it anyway. She’s off limits,” I tell Julian, trying to shake the misplaced possessiveness from my bones. It’s fucking pathetic. I have no claim over Lena.

So why the hell does it feel that way? Why is something in me waging a war and screaming at me that she’s in my house, looking after my kid, and she’s mine?

Julian tries to say something, but my mouth is running away from me today.

I glare at him, cutting the words from his tongue. “Off. Limits. ”

“Yeah, I kind of guessed that by the circle you pissed around her.”

I have no reply to that because he’s right.

He finishes off the last bite of Lena’s apology pasta with a self-satisfied smirk. He watched her walk out the door like he had just witnessed something particularly entertaining. Which, knowing Julian, he did.

“You messed up. Didn’t I specifically warn you not to hire a hot nanny?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose to soothe the headache threatening to bloom behind my eyes.

He did tell me that.

And I fucking ignored his advice.

“Just wait until Nathan hears about this,” he says, setting down his plate and crossing his arms. “I mean, a hot nanny? Really?”

I shoot him a look sharp enough to crack concrete and grab a water from the fridge. “Would you stop calling her that?”

“What, ‘hot nanny’? Isn’t that her job description?”

Uncapping the water, I take a long drink, but it does little to soothe the senseless rage burning in my chest. “Her name’s Lena. She takes care of Rosie. That’s it.”

“Bullshit. You were practically eye-fucking her on her way out.”

“Watch your mouth.” My eyes flick down to Rosie, who’s staring at us, innocently chewing on the ear of her stuffed elephant.

He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry, Rosie. Uncle Julian’s got no filter. Earmuffs.”

Rosie lets out a delighted squeal, slapping her elephant against the playpen. Traitor.

He and Nathan have been busting my balls since we were kids, riding bikes through our old neighborhood, and daring each other into trouble.

They headed off to Wall Street, conquering high-stakes investments like it was second nature.

They tried to drag me along, but boardrooms and bullshit meetings were never my scene.

I’d rather be elbow-deep in engine grease than stuck in a suit and tie any day.

It might not be through blood, but they’re my brothers in every way that matters.

Julian’s expression sobers as he studies me. “All joking aside, how are you holding up? I know Amber’s birthday is coming up. You good?”

Another birthday where she’s not here to celebrate it.

“I’m handling it,” I grind out, crouching down to pick up some scattered blocks just to distract him from how my hands have started to shake. “Rosie keeps me plenty busy.”

“Look, Nathan and I…we’re here. I mean it. You want to talk? Great. You don't want to talk and just get drunk off expensive whiskey? Also great.”

Julian’s version of therapy has always involved good booze and silence.

“Appreciate it, but I’m good.”

“Right,” Julian says dryly. “Because you always handle shit solo so well.”

I glance up at him and remind myself to calm down. He doesn’t deserve my shitty attitude. “I said I got it.”

He nods once, clearly deciding not to push further. Julian knows exactly how much grief can twist a man inside out. He’s seen me at my worst. Hell, he’s practically carried me through it. He and Nathan both.

Thankfully, he shifts gears. “Nathan gets into town in a couple of weeks, and we’ve already planned to invade your house. Pizza, beer, the works. Rosie gets a slice too.”

I roll my shoulders back, trying to ease the tension but feeling grateful for the distraction. “Sounds good, but if Nathan orders pineapple again, he’s banned for life.”

Julian grimaces. “Agreed. What is it with him and pineapples? Man has serial-killer tendencies.”

Rosie babbles something, clearly sensing the lighter mood. Julian instantly leans toward her. “Exactly, Rosie. Uncle Nathan needs serious help.”

I shake my head, scooping Rosie up from the playpen and settling her against my shoulder.

Julian watches us, mouth twitching into a shit-eating grin. “Gotta admit, brother, fatherhood suits you.”

I glance at him, half-grunting in response. “Some days I’m surprised I haven’t fucked it all up.”

“You haven’t.” He says it with so much conviction, I almost believe him. “Amber and Mike…they’d be proud as hell of you.”

A heaviness settles in my chest again, but I dip my chin, meeting Julian’s steady gaze. “Thanks, man.”

He clears his throat, glancing toward the door. “Alright, I should head out.”

“Next time, knock.”

He laughs, holding up his hands. “Noted. I prefer my face un-dented, but just wait until she finds out I have a key.”

“Don’t fucking start with her. You will lose.”

He heads toward the door but pauses at the threshold. “Wes?”

“Yeah?”

He smirks again. Smug bastard. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“What secret? ”

“That you’re hot for the nanny.”

I flip him off over Rosie’s head. “Get out of my house, Julian.”

His laughter echoes as the door closes behind him. I shake my head, letting out a heavy breath. Rosie nestles closer, yawning against my shoulder.

“Your Uncle Julian’s a pain in the ass, kid,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her soft hair.

She sighs, already drifting off.