Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“Well ... you’re back in the same city as Ada’s dad,” Topher said. When he saw the look on my face, he nearly winced. “And this is the last time I’ll bring it up, I swear,” he added.
I nodded. “I get it,” I said. “I really do – but don’t worry. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Topher made a weird face. “I mean ... you never told him about Ada. He doesn’t know that he has a little girl walking around.”
“And he never will,” I said firmly. “New York is huge, did you forget that?”
Topher nodded. “Yeah, well, you can take care of yourself,” he said. “I always forget how tough you are, sis.”
My dad reappeared and Topher clamped his lips together.
“I hate to leave like this, but we should get back on the road,” my dad said. “We’ve got to get that U-Haul back before ten.”
I nodded. We hugged goodbye and I tried to tell myself that this was just temporary – of course it was. I’d see my dad and my brother all the time.
So, why did I suddenly feel like a kid dropped off at college?
They left, and then it was just me and Ada, back in New York. I checked on my daughter once – she was curled up on a pile of stuffed bunnies, snoring quietly – and then went to my room and lay down on the bare mattress. I knew I should shower, but I was so exhausted that I could hardly comprehend the thought of moving.
I knew that things would be okay now, but that didn’t mean that I sometimes didn’t worry about the future. Ada was getting to the age where she was very observant, and I knew it was only a matter of time before she started asking me about her daddy – where he was, why he didn’t come home with a kiss and a coloring book for her every Friday night, how he and Mommy had met.
My stomach churned, and I wished that I hadn’t wolfed down as much rich food. Getting pregnant four years ago had been the most terrifying experience of my life, but I didn’t regret having Ada at all. I loved her, more than anything else on the surface of the planet, and I wouldn’t have done anything differently. I was just lucky that I’d been fortunate enough to have the support of my father and brother along the way.
Still, it was time that I got back on my own feet again. Time to forge a new path, time to get comfortable in New York again.
Time to move on.
3
Nico – Monday
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so unproductive. Normally, Mondays were the high point of my week – the true sign of a workaholic, I’d been told by more than one person.
Today, I felt like shit. As I sat at my desk with my work spread out in front of me, I put my face in my hands and groaned. My head was killing me and even though I’d gotten a decent amount of sleep last night, I’d still dreamt about her.
Her.
Harper Willow, my former personal assistant, who had quit almost four years ago.
It was absurd, but I still thought of her all the time ... and I would have done anything to make that stop. Her sparkling green eyes occupied far too large a space in my mind, and I still remembered her quick wit and fiery comebacks.
It wasn’t that I’d spent the last four years mooning over her – no, nothing like that. But I’d come to realize that Harper had been a valuable asset, and perhaps I had been too difficult for her to deal with.
Just as I was picking up the phone to make a call to the coach of the Bengals, my door opened and I looked up to see my best mate, Clint, stepping inside with a brown paper bag clutched in his meaty hands. The bag was spotted with grease and the smell of something fried and delicious filled my nostrils as he grinned at me and held the bag up.
Seconds later, my assistant Portia flew into my office on Clint’s heels. As always, she looked flustered and surprised. Her blonde hair was sticking up from the messy bun she’d fashioned it into, her slip was showing beneath her skirt, and her cheeks were flushed and red.
“Mr. Ulrich!” Portia cried loudly. “I tried to stop him, but he said he knew you, and—”
I laughed shortly and held up a hand. “It’s fine, Portia,” I told her.
“He said his name was Clint and that it didn’t matter if he had an appointment set or—”
“Enough,” I snapped. Portia’s ditzy act wasn’t cute, not even for a moment, and right now I felt downright sick of her and her incompetence.