Beau said, “Axel, you haven’t met Bode yet.” Bode? As in “terrible love affair” Bode? The fucker smiled at me with his ridiculously perfect teeth and held out his hand. I reluctantly shook it, trying to tamp down my temper because Carrie was in the room.

Blaire smiled happily when she saw me, and I pulled her tight against me, giving her a long, hard kiss that was barely PG-13. MINE! Mine, mine, MINE! Someone cleared their throat, and Blaire pulled back from the kiss.

“Mmmm, well, hello there,” she murmured sexily in my ear. I gave her a tight smile, and her face searched mine, her eyebrows pressing together with a questioning look. Yeah, baby. I’m fucking pissed.

“Later,” I muttered in warning, and Blaire nodded before scooping up Carrie and taking her to sit on her lap on the black leather couch. “How is my sweet girl doing today? Did you have fun with Daddy?”

“Yes, it was totally fun! Daddy is really good at Whac-A-Mole, and we ate a whole mushroom pizza, and I got to ride in his rock and roll car. But my feet hurt, Mommy.” Her enthusiasm turned to a sad little frown with that last sentence.

Blaire stood our daughter on the gray rug and said, “Let me feel your toes in these shoes.” She pressed her thumb against the toe of Carrie’s shoe and said, “Good Lord, child. Have you outgrown your shoes again?”

The cockface named Bode came up and ruffled Carrie’s hair. “She’s growing like a weed, Blaire. I think you’re gonna have to cut back to just weekly feedings.” Yeah, real funny, dude. The starvation of small children is fucking hilarious.

Carrie climbed him and said, “Hey, Uncle Bode,” at which point he pretended to devour her face with big, loud munches. Yes, this guy definitely had an ass kicking coming to him. Don’t eat my kid, you shithole. Carrie smacked her palm on the top of his head, and he laughed a deep laugh that annoyed the goddamn piss out of me.

Everyone sat and chatted for about fifteen minutes, and during that time, the men put their hands on Blaire seven times. Yes, I fucking counted. They were constantly patting her hand or squeezing her arm while I just stood and glowered at them, but no one seemed to notice.

Blaire checked her phone and jumped up from the couch. “Eight-car pileup on 635,” she announced. “Gotta go.” All the men stood when she did, and she hugged each of them before getting to me. She looked up at me with those big green eyes and smiled at me with her adorable dimples.