Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
As I step out into the July heat, I’m tempted to head back home. Instead, I thank my driver and move toward the hotel.
I pull my phone out of my pocket as I wait for the lift and message Aurora. She’s out tonight at some family thing. Isn’t that what she said? I message her, telling her to have a good time. I stare at the screen, waiting for her to respond. But it’s eight thirty. She’s probably already at dinner or wherever she’s going. She didn’t say exactly. I want to suggest we both ditch our plans and go to dinner, just the two of us. Or maybe I could get a room here and she could swing by after her thing and we could get into bathrobes and eat pizza.
I smile to myself as I make my way to the elevators.
The party started an hour ago, so I’m late. Hopefully that means the CEO of ABC Inc. will already be here. I can make a beeline for him, then wish Ryder a happy fortieth birthday and leave.
As I enter the ballroom, I spot the CEO over by the window. I head right over.
“Jason,” I say. “Good to see you.”
“Deacon. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“Ryder’s an old friend,” I say.
“Same,” he says. “We met in college.”
“I don’t want to bore you with business stuff now, but do you have any time to get together before you head back to San Francisco?” I ask.
“I’m really busy. I thought you might be at the conference a couple of weeks back.”
“I couldn’t make it. I have custody of my daughter Wednesday through Sunday mornings, so I couldn’t travel.”
Jason raises his eyebrows. “Girl dad?” he asks.
“One hundred percent. I just learned how to French braid.”
He chuckles. “You’re doing better than me. I can barely manage a brush through my daughter’s hair. She screams at the tiniest touch.”
“How old is she?”
“Three. Yours?”
“Willow is six, going on sixteen. You’re still in the trenches. It gets easier.”
“My wife is pregnant with number two. It’s just about to get a whole lot harder.”
A dull ache lands with a thud in my gut. He has the perfect family I wanted for Willow. “Congratulations,” I say. “When’s she due?”
“October. This will be my last trip away from home until after the baby.”
“I get it. You want to wrap them up in cotton wool, right?”
“Right. And if you don’t get to see your daughter half the week, I’m not surprised you missed the conference. How about we grab breakfast tomorrow before I head off? I think there might be some interesting synergies that we can talk about.”
It’s just breakfast, but it feels like I scored the winning touchdown. “Sounds good.”
We’re interrupted by some people who Jason knows, and I make my excuses and leave them. I just need to find Ryder, tell him happy birthday, and I can head back downtown.
I turn and scan the crowd—and over by the window, I swear I see Aurora.
This woman is playing tricks on my brain. I’m imagining her everywhere.
The woman I’m staring at turns, and we lock eyes.
It is Aurora.
“Hey,” she mouths at me, and I start to weave in and out of the crowd toward her.
I’m vaguely aware that a couple of people call my name as I’m heading through the throng, but I ignore them. I don’t care about anything but getting to Aurora. Seeing her here…it suddenly feels like this is where I’m meant to be. She’s where I’m meant to be.
Our gazes stay locked together, and it seems to take hours to reach her. When I do, I’m so relieved, I cup the back of her head and press my lips to hers without stopping to say hello. Her fingers find my chest, and I push my tongue through her lips and kiss her like we’ve been reconciled after months away from each other.
She presses gently on my chest, and I pull back ever so slightly.
“Hey,” I say, full of relief that she’s here.
“Hey,” she says, grinning at me. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
Someone lets out an exaggerated cough beside us.
“Care to introduce us, Aurora?” the voice says.
Aurora raises her eyebrows. “Deacon, this is my best friend, Darcy.”
I turn, reluctantly, not wanting to focus on anything but Aurora.
A woman about the same age and height as Aurora smiles at me and sticks out her hand. “Good to meet you.”
I take her hand. “Good to meet you too,” I say, and I turn my attention back to Aurora.
“So, tell me about yourself, Deacon,” Darcy says.
“Deacon?”
I recognize Ryder Westbury’s voice from behind me and turn.
“Ryder,” I say. “Good to see you.” We shake hands because we’re both British, and even though we’ve both been in the US longer than either of us were ever in the UK, some things are part of our DNA. We can’t hug. It’s genetically impossible.