“Maybe. But how do we let Blaire know about her husband without me telling her?”

“You want her to know so that she will divorce him, and you can try to get her back?”

I scratched the back of my neck. “Pretty much, yeah,” I admitted.

“So, you don’t care if you tear her marriage apart as long as you get what you want?”

“Look, Ollie, you’re making me sound like the dickhead here. I’m not the one cheating on her. If he’s making a fool out of her, she needs to know. Hell, she might not want me back even if she did get a divorce.”

“True. And I don’t think you’re a dickhead, Ax. You might be a little obsessed where Blaire is concerned, and trust me, no one would be happier if you two got back together than me. But why would you want her back? She left you and never fucking contacted you again.”

“That’s not helping,” I said, running both hands through my hair.

“But it’s the truth,” Oliver said quietly. “Look, let me think on it a little bit. Just don’t do anything rash, okay?”

I nodded miserably. Being rash was what had gotten me into this situation in the first place.

10. Blaire

Blaire

I arrived at my brother’s house in Dallas to find absolute chaos. Four-year-old Carrie was riding on Tank’s wide back like he was a bronco, and the huge man was pretending to try and buck her off. The rest of my brother’s friends were throwing cheese balls at her, and she was trying to catch them in her mouth while doing her best impression of a cowgirl. According to the number of cheese balls littering the floor around them, she wasn’t exactly adept at the task.

“Good Lord, guys. She could choke to death on one of those if it got lodged in her throat,” I complained.

“She would have to actually catch one first,” Woody said from his lounging position on Beau’s black leather recliner. “You suck, Carrie.”

“Nuh-uh. You suck, Uncle Woody.”

“Carrie!” I said sharply, and she frowned and pointed at Woody.

“He said it first!” she tattled.

“Swear to God, it’s like I have seven children to raise,” I muttered. “And Carrie, stop pulling Uncle Tank’s hair so hard. You’re going to yank him bald.”

The big guy reached behind him with one hand and easily scooped my rambunctious daughter off his back, pulling her around to his front as he raised up on his knees. “That’s okay. Carrie would still think I was the most handsome uncle even if I were bald, right, sugar plum?”

“Nope. You’d still be ugly because you have a wart on your nose,” she said with a giggle.

“Well, you’re ugly because you have hair on your chest,” he retorted.