The Hot Mess and the Heartthrob(84)

“She could handle me,” Tripp says around his wife. “At my worst, I mean. My kids are easier.”

Lila nods thoughtfully. “I can’t actually argue with that.”

“The kids will get there one day, but she’ll love them too much by then.”

“Possibly more than him,” Lila agrees, flicking a thumb toward my brother.

They share a secret smile, and fuck.

I miss Ingrid.

She’s only a few miles away, but it feels so damn far. “How’d you know you were ready to be a stepmother?” I ask Lila.

She doesn’t blink. “Are you saying you only save squirrels for women you’d like to have a future with?”

“Pretty much.”

Tripp eyes me. Then Lila, who eyes him back before turning to me again.

Both of them take a hit off their beers like there’s not enough alcohol in the world for this conversation.

“Very funny.” I eyeball my niece out in the yard and wonder if I could convince her to fling a stick at my brother without getting her in trouble.

Huh.

Maybe that’s why Tripp’s not answering.

“Seriously, how do you do it? Especially when things are busy?”

“Clear boundaries,” Lila says, the same time Tripp answers, “With a lot of communication.”

“And the manny,” they add together.

I don’t know if Ingrid would want a nanny, male or female. She’s always done everything herself, but is it because she needs to, or because she wants to?

Doesn’t matter.

She’s hopefully already figured out that I come with a posse of grandmas.

“Being a stepmom is a little terrifying,” Lila says. “I’d never been around small people before that meeting with the commissioner that Tripp brought James and Emma to last year.”

Tripp grimaces. “And the baby chipmunks…”

His bride throws her head back and laughs, which is pretty fucking remarkable.

I was at that meeting too.

Ugly, ugly mess.

But it turned out okay.

Better than okay, actually.

Knowing what Tripp and Lila went through to get to today, happy, together, and a family, makes me feel like a lucky bastard for only having to rearrange my schedule, re-evaluate my life plans, and learn to be a father-figure and not just an uncle-figure to be the man Ingrid needs me to be.

Hopefully.

Also, yeah, I know that’s a hell of a list of things to tackle.

Good thing I don’t like to half-ass anything.

Lila’s still chuckling as she tips her bottle toward me. “I learned a lot by watching you, you know.”

“It’s easy when you know you can leave anytime.”

“James built a snowman in the drivers’ seat of your Porsche. And it melted. And had a mud heart inside. You can leave, but you can’t forget something like that.”

“It had a what?” Tripp whips his head between Lila and me, then squeezes his eyes shut. “I didn’t hear that part of the story.”

“And James is still alive,” I point out. “It’s just a seat. I got a new one. And I don’t even drive that car that much.” I frown, realizing how I don’t drive my Porsche often would sound to the woman I’d like to be my girlfriend. “If I talk Ingrid into coming to the party next week, can we maybe not start with that story?”

“Have no fear. There’s not a single person in your circle who’d start with that one. That one makes you sound like a saint. Sort of like going with the whole glitter-in-your-hair-on-tour thing makes you look like you’re an angel, which is probably the last time I’ll ever put the words you and angel together in the same sentence.”

“My hairdresser couldn’t get it out after an incident with Ingrid’s kids, so we decided that sparkling me up like a Christmas tree was better, so it at least looks like it’s on purpose.” We get a lot out every night, but I’ll be digging glitter out of my scalp for the next ten years.

No question.

Shaving my head probably wouldn’t even get rid of all of it.

Tripp kicks his feet up on the deck railing, which is the height of my brother at his most relaxed, and pretty impressive considering he just found out what his oldest did to my car. Probably shouldn’t mention the time Emma took her own diaper off and redecorated my walls while she was going through her prunes phase.

“Heard you’ve been asking Beck how he dialed back so fast after he met Sarah,” he says.

“Yep.”

“You’re cutting back?”

“Yep.”

“For her?”

Tricky question. “She’s why, but the more my calendar opens up…I feel lighter than I have in years. I think I needed this for me too.”

It’s not a lie. I miss my family. I don’t remember what a real hobby is, and my golf game has gone to shit. I don’t like getting lost in the city I grew up in, even if this time, it turned out pretty fucking good.

Hopefully, anyway.

“Is her four-year-old as much of a handful as Mom says he is?”

“Probably more.”

“You gonna ask her to move to New York?”

“What the fuck? Why would I do that? Her store’s here. Her kids’ schools are here. Their activities are here. Her friends are here. Are you insane? Would you do that to your kids?”