“Somebody say something,” I insist, squeezing the arms of my chair so hard it’s almost painful.
“Ian’s brother?” Taylor’s voice comes out as almost a squeak.
Avah elbows her. “Do we know any other Felix Barlowes?”
Taylor shakes her head. “But I thought you hated Felix.”
“I don’t exactlyhatehim,” I protest.
“You called him an insufferable meathead when he was here at Christmas,” Molly reminds me.
“He was,” I agree weakly. “We’ve always been like oil and water. We don’t mix.”
“Except you apparently mixed just fine,” Iris points out. “One time.”
“Twice, actually,” I admit before I can stop myself.
The room erupts.
“Twice?”
“When was the second time?”
“Oh my God!”
“Can we please rewind the past thirty seconds?” I plead, covering my face with my hands.
“Not a chance.” Molly leans back in her chair with a small smile. “This is way better than a book discussion. Does Felix know about the baby?”
“As of yesterday morning, yes.” I release the chair and reach for a brownie, needing something to do. “He’s been at the cabin with me, which was a coincidence.”
“Wink, wink,” Avah says.
“It’s true.”
Sloane holds up a hand. “Let’s stay focused. Felix wants to be involved?”
I nod but don’t look at Sadie again. There’s no point in explaining that I’m not surehowhe wants to be involved until he and I work out that part.
“That’s good, right?” Taylor asks carefully.
“I think so. I hope so.” I swallow the bite of brownie, grateful when my stomach doesn’t immediately rebel. “But he also offered me money to keep being his nanny, and it felt like?—”
“Whoa, there.” Molly holds up a hand. “His nanny? Why does Felix need a nanny?”
“He’s helping some friends out,” Sadie offers.
I nod. “Taking care of their two-year-old daughter until...well…while his help is needed.”
Avah barks out a laugh. “What kind of parents would ask Felix Barlowe to watch their kid?” she asks skeptically. “He’s an immature showboat, and one of the league’s biggest players.”
“He’s not a showboat,” I snap, surprising myself with how defensive I sound. “He’s actually really good with her. Patient and gentle and…”
“Oh wow,” Molly murmurs. “You don’t hate him. You like him.”
“I don’tnotlike him,” I hedge.
“Which isn’t a ringing endorsement for the father of your child,” Iris points out.
