Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
After putting the burgers in the oven, Emery takes my hand and leads me toward the door. She stops at the hallway and turns to Gray with a demanding look on her face. “Well, are you coming?”
Gray grins at me, then winks at his daughter. “Right on your tail, Miss Bossy.”
Emery leads us through the house into the library. My breath catches when I see what she’s done. It’s all the confirmation I need that she’s trying to set me up with her dad in her own cute, adorable way. She’s gathered as many flower petals from the garden as she can find and scattered them all over the library. Gray leans against the doorframe, one hand on his forehead. He gives me a look—half longing, half regret. I get it. This is so, so sweet, but also terrible. The last thing we need is Emery rooting for us.
What if she says something to Sloane? What if, as most relationships do, we end, and it hurts her?
“What do you think?” Emery says, bubbling up with pride, actually hopping up and down on the spot.
Gray approaches her slowly, kneels, and takes her hand. I stand nearby, my hands clasped together, mixed emotions pulsing through me. I want to tell her she’s done a great job. That I’m proud of her. I want to tell her I want this as badly as she does—to be with her dad, to make a life with him and her.
“What are you thinking, Emery?” Gray asks softly. “Why did you do this?”
“The flowers are pretty, Daddy. Pretty like Callie.”
Gray sighs. “Oh, Em. But why? You can talk to me.”
Emery’s voice gets sad. She sounds like she could break into tears at any moment. “I—you know, Daddy—it would be nice to have a mommy who loves me. And Callie loves me. Right, Callie?”
She turns to me with wide-eyed hope. She’s breaking my heart. It was never supposed to get this far. But kids are perceptive. Gray and I might’ve thought we were hiding our feelings from her, but she must’ve picked up on something.
I look at Gray, wondering what I should say. He bites down and shakes his head softly.
“Callie is your nanny, Emery,” Gray says after a pause as if it’s causing him physical pain. “She’s an…” He clears his throat. “Employee, Emery.”
Emery looks and sounds angry. “What?”
“She works for us.” Gray glances at me, his eyes glistening. For a crazy second, I think he might cry. Then he hardens himself. Absurdly, his words stab at me almost painfully, as though he has no right to say this. But, of course, he does. It’s the truth. It’s what’s best for Emery. “It’s not fair to ask her questions about whether or not she loves you. As a nanny, it’s not her place to make comments like that.”
Emery folds her arms stubbornly. “But you love Callie.”
I gasp. A tremor goes through Gray, his temples pulsing. “Emery…”
“You do, Daddy,” she says as though it’s obvious. “You’re really happy now, always smiling. And you come home from work earlier. And you’re laughing, like, a lot. And you always look at her and get this funny and really cool look in your eyes. And when me and Callie are together, you look at us and it just makes me feel all fuzzy inside. You love her, Daddy. I love her. We both love Callie.”
My head is swimming. I knew she was precocious, but this is too much.
Gray closes his eyes for a moment, then slowly opens them and looks at me. “Callie,” he says. “I’m sorry, but I think I should have dinner with my daughter alone tonight.”
I can tell how difficult this is for him to say. It’s like he’s forcing the words out. It’s unfair for me to be offended, hurt, or feel anything about this. He’s got every right to react this way.
“That’s fine,” I murmur.
“But I made dinner, Daddy!” Emery says, starting to cry.
“I’m sorry,” Gray says. “But I can’t let this happen.”
“Let—what—huh-happen?”
“I can’t let you think Callie is your mommy, Emery. Because what if Callie gets a new job? What if it doesn’t work out between us? What if she has to move on? You can’t get too attached.”
Emery turns to me, her eyes flooded with tears. It takes everything I have not to rush to her and sweep her into my arms. Unfairly, I want to hold her tightly and tell her I’m not going anywhere. Tell her that I’m never going to leave her. I want to make a bunch of unrealistic promises.
“You’re not getting a new job,” Emery yells.
“I’m sorry, Emery. I’m going to eat dinner alone tonight. I’m very grateful for the gesture. But your dad’s right. We need to do what’s best for you. We can’t risk your feelings.”
“You’re hurting my feelings now,” she cries.