Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 79211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Is she still pissed at me?
I call her again.
And again.
And again.
By the time I get home, I’m on the border of panicking. I screech into the driveway and whip the car into Park. Take the steps two at a time. “Harper!”
No response. My footsteps echo in the hall as I head toward our bedroom, only to find my bed still made and Ivy’s, too.
Where’s my security team?
“Harper!”
I call her again, and she doesn’t answer.
When I heard about her, I was told Harper was a runner and the first day we met, she proved it to be true. When I found out why, I understood.
But now I wonder.
Has she run again? Have I been fooled?
My heart seizes at the thought of not seeing her again. Of being apart from her.
Did she go? Me and my stupid bullshit mouth, did I push her away?
I have to find her.
“Harper!”
She’s gone. My actions have driven away the only person I’ve ever opened up to. The only person I’ve ever loved. She’s gone, and she took Ivy with her.
I’ll find her.
I have to.
I burst into the hallway and finally see one of my men. “Where the fuck have you been?”
“Your brother called an emergency meeting, sir. We had to respond. He’s putting plans in place for security at the gala.”
Of course he fucking did.
“And you thought my brother’s demands on your time superseded your need to protect my wife and child?”
I’ll fucking kill him.
His eyes widen. “Never, sir. Harper and Ivy are right outside.”
Heart pounding so hard my head’s buzzing, I stumble my way out of the house and into the backyard. I don’t see them. She fooled them. Told them she’d be outside and then when they were distracted by the emergency meeting, she left.
My knees give way and I sink to the bench outside the door. I bury my head in my hands. I’ve done it. I’ve driven them away.
I have to scrape my shit together so that I can —
The sound of a child’s laughter brings my brain to a screeching halt.
The sound…it’s Ivy’s contagious little giggle.
I look around me. Where is she? Where are they?
The Manhattan skyline dims in the background behind her, the wind whipping her hair in a wild swirl about her face. Ivy is leaping up in the air trying to catch the bubbles Harper’s blown, the bubble wand still to her lips. Harper sees me and waves a tentative hand. Seconds later, she and Ivy are heading my way.
Oh, God. My pulse is racing. My palms are sweaty.
“Look!” Ivy says. “Bubbles!”
I smile at her, my whole being flooded with relief. “Yeah, baby. Bubbles.” My voice shakes. I look up at Harper. How is she doing?
“What’s the matter?” she asks, her brow furrowed in concern. “Are you alright?”
I’m about to say no, when Ivy raises her arms to be lifted on my knee. “Bubbles, Daddy.”
Daddy? Startled, I look at Harper. She heard it, too, I know she did because her eyes are misty.
“I thought you were gone,” I say in a whisper because I don’t trust my voice right now. “I tried to reach you and you weren’t there. I came back and — and I—”
“I wanted to leave,” she says, her head bowed. “I even packed a bag. But then we got to the door and Ivy pulled the bubbles out and I— I couldn’t do it. I needed to see you. I needed to fight for this. For us. And I didn’t want to take Ivy away again, not after everything she’s been through.”
I reach for her hand and squeeze it. “I’m sorry, Harper. I’m a fu— I’m a jerk,” I say, censoring my words so Ivy doesn’t hear me. “I’ve had decades of only caring for myself and that won’t happen anymore. It can’t.”
“I know,” she says with a deep sigh. “And I’ve had years of running. When you accused me, those thoughts in my head came up again and I—”
“‘Those thoughts?”
“Yeah,” she whispers.
Ivy leans in and gives me a big hug before she slides down from my lap and runs after a particularly large bubble. I reach for Harper and drag her onto my knee. We watch Ivy chase the bubbles.
“I want to hear what they say, Harper. Tell me. What do you hear?”
She licks her lips and shakes her head. “I don’t want to tell you.”
I think about it before I speak. “I hear my own voice tell me shit that I shouldn’t listen to,” I say in a low voice. “Shit like you’ll never be loved. You won’t have happiness. You’ve done too much. You don’t deserve this. And it takes effort for me to push those thoughts away.”
“I think of the things my parents said to me,” she says, in a voice only I can hear. “Whore. Disgrace. Slut. Liar.”
She turns away and swipes at her eyes.