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)
What we had was something rare. And precious. And I just threw it away because I was afraid.
Afraid of creating a scared, lonely child like I had been.
Afraid of not being the protector of Willow like I vowed to be.
Afraid of making any change in my life in case it disturbed that pain and grief over losing my sister that lives within me.
It’s like I’ve been walking around with a glass vase on my head, not making any sudden movements in case I drop it. The fact is, I can’t carry it any longer. Instead of burying this pain and grief, I need to deal with it. I need to make peace with it. Most of all, I need to not be afraid of it anymore.
“Please, Daddy.”
I’ve been weak. Oblivious. A complete idiot.
I can’t imagine Aurora will ever forgive me. I certainly don’t deserve her to. I definitely can’t leave her a voice note asking her to come round for a playdate, even though that would make my daughter very happy right now.
“I think she’s busy. But how about I message her later, when you’re in bed, and see what she says.”
“Why, Daddy? Why don’t you just do it now?”
“Later,” I say. “I need to figure out what to say.”
“Just ask her to come over.”
I chuckle and ruffle her hair. “It works differently when you’re a grown-up.”
Willow rolls her eyes and cartwheels back and forth as I watch.
In business, I managed to harness my fear and pain and used it to drive me forward toward success. But in my personal life, the opposite is true. It’s become a restriction, a prison, an emotion that has too much power over me. I’ve been so afraid of losing someone I care about, that I’ve either shunned relationships or shielded them so much it’s been destructive. I’ve not been living. Not really.
I won’t let fear and pain hold me back anymore.
I’ve got to open myself up—take a risk. Maybe I’ll still be afraid, but I have to conquer that fear or it will rule me for the rest of my life. It’s already cost me Aurora.
Enough.
I need to live.
Willow is ready. I’m ready. I just hope Aurora is.
And I hope it’s not too late.
FORTY-ONE
Aurora
When my phone buzzes, and I pull it out to quickly check it’s not an emergency message from my parents or Darcy, my heart flips over when I see Deacon is the sender.
I make my excuses and leave reception and head into the first-floor guest corridor. What’s Deacon messaging me about?
The message is short and inexplicable:
Can we talk?
What does that even mean?
Anger rises in my chest. How dare he try to bait me into an exchange of texts. If he wants to talk, he needs to tell me what he wants to talk about. I’m not going to ask him.
And anyway, the answer is no. Why would I want to talk to him? We’ve got nothing to say to each other.
I’m not getting pulled back into being a spectator in someone else’s life. I don’t want to be a part-time woman in his life. And I don’t want to be waiting for him to cut and run.
He did it so easily before.
He turned away without a second glance.
And maybe that’s okay. He prioritized his daughter. I can’t hate him for that. But I don’t have to expose myself to it either.
It’s too painful. And I’m in New York for levity and fun. I’m done with the dark. Once I’ve told Darcy I’m staying, I can really start to enjoy myself. I’m planning to call her as soon as my shift is finished tonight. I’m going to rip the Band-Aid right off and just explain that I won’t be coming home.
I know she’ll be disappointed. But she’ll just have to come to New York more often. Ryder and Scarlett are always coming back and forth. She sometimes complains about how often they come and stay.
I head back out into the reception area, just as a huge arrangement of flowers arrives. It’s not unusual for guests to receive flowers, but this arrangement is particularly large and extremely beautiful. I can’t help but smile as I greet the delivery person.
“I can take these,” I say. “Do you have a name or room number?” I ask.
“Aurora Reynolds. No room number,” the delivery person says.
My heart folds in half and in half again. I know instantly that these are from Deacon.
Why? Why is he torturing me like this? I just want to move on with my life. I just want to turn the page. Hearing from him again is just reopening old wounds.
I thank the delivery driver and head into Avril and Poppy’s office, where I now have a desk. I don’t officially start as the general manager until September, but I’m gradually taking on more and more responsibility.