Trust me, asshole, the last thing I want is to spend my days fixing your mess.
“Do you want her to stop crying, or do you want to keep posturing?”
His expression flickered with irritation, but he carefully eased her into my arms. His arms hung uselessly at his sides, his gaze fixed on her.
I rolled my eyes. “Warm a bottle, and I’ll show you how to feed her properly.”
I marched into the kitchen without waiting for a response. Griffin trailed behind me like a lost puppy.
He stared at the array of tins, bottles, and scattered instructions like he’d been asked to defuse a bomb.
“Find the formula that says ‘first stage.’”
His eyes flicked over the labels before he grabbed one and held it up. “This one?”
I checked the tin. “Yeah. Now, bottle.”
He reached for one still in its packaging and wrestled the plastic wrap off, nearly knocking over a stray tin in the process. I let him fumble through it, watching as he set the bottle down with an air of triumph.
“Okay.” I nodded. “Boil some water.”
He flicked the kettle on, tapping his fingers impatiently against the counter while it hummed to life. I bounced Hazel, her cries settling into sniffly whimpers against my shoulder.
The moment the kettle clicked off, he grabbed the bottle and filled it straight from the spout. He ripped the foil off the nearest tub of formula, dumped in a scoop, and screwed the lid on with brisk efficiency.
He shook the bottle once, then popped the cap off and held it out. “Done.”
I didn’t take it.
“If you think it’s fine for her, test it on your wrist.”
Without hesitation, he tipped the bottle against the inside of his wrist and hissed in pain. Cursing, the bottle clattered to the counter as he yanked his hand back, shaking it like he’d been stung.
Liam wheezed, slapping a hand against his knee. Even Julian looked like he was debating between disappointment and sheer exasperation.
“What did you think was going to happen?”
Griffin scowled, gripping his wrist like it had personally offended him. “How was I supposed to know it’d turn into a goddamn branding iron?”
Unbelievable.
“That’s precisely the problem,” Julian said, his tone sharp and unyielding. “You don’t stop to think. You just do. And if Violet wasn’t here, you’d have burned her.”
Griffin’s expression hardened. “I wouldn’t have.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Michaels.” His gaze pinned Griffin in place. “If Violet doesn’t do this, you lose your seat.”
Griffin’s jaw dropped and he froze. He let out a short, sharp laugh, shaking his head in that way people did when they were this close to losing their minds.
CHAPTER THREE
GRIFFIN
Violet sighed. “We need to talk.”
“About what? How your old man just strong-armed us both?”
“About how we’re going to make this work.” She moved to the sofa, carefully clearing a space among the scattered baby supplies. “Because like it or not, we’re stuck with each other.”
