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)
Now, I’ve found someone. It could end in ruin. I could be making a terrible mistake. But somehow, I know that the bigger mistake would be letting this chance pass me by.
“Wes, would you mind taking care of Emery a while longer?”
It shocks the hell out of me when Wes turns to me with a smile. Of all the reactions I’ve expected over the years when I thought fleetingly about finding another woman—never anybody specific, couldn’t imagine it before Callie came along—a smile wasn’t one of them. “Sure thing,” he says.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Callie
“It feels like it’s been way, way longer than it has,” I mutter, tossing my stress ball from hand to hand.
Katerina stands at my full-length mirror, adjusting her hair. She’s got long, dark hair, her pale features contrasting the darkness. She smiles at me in the reflection, but there’s a hint of sadness in it. “He said he loved you.”
“Well—sort of. It was framed as a what-if question. Hypothetical. It’s not like he just came out and said he was in love with me or anything.”
“Hmm,” she murmurs. “That seems like a, how do you say, distinction without a difference. He said he loved you, Callie-kin. And from that look in your eye, you don’t find the notion as silly as you should.”
“We’ve had some good times,” I reply. “But, really, it’s not been very long at all. And I should be wary about an older man coming at me so intensely. It should make me wary, you know, because of my life before…”
“Should, should, should, Callie,” she says, turning to me. “Life is not made of should, though, is it? Life is made of want. Of desire. Of lust. There’s a reason you spend so much time reading those hot-and-heavy books of yours. Not just for fun, not just for the story. Let’s be honest, Callie. You want that for yourself. You just never planned on your Prince Charming being a daddy who is also your boss.”
“And whose kid we could royally mess up if the relationship ends badly.”
“Then don’t let it end badly,” she says. “Fight for it.”
Her words hit me like a challenge. I stand up and begin pacing the room. I’m flooding with a dangerous amount of energy. And there’s something else, too. Purpose. An idea.
“Kat,” I murmur. “Do you think we could use your car tonight? I’ve got a crazy idea.”
Her face lights up. “Now you have, how do you say, beaked my interest.”
I giggle. “I think it’s piqued.”
“Come on—let’s get beaking.” She winks, making both of us laugh.
Am I really going to do this? I don’t give myself time to think about it. Maybe it makes me crazy. Perhaps it makes me a hypocrite. But if this is how I feel just after a few hours without seeing Gray, what will a full day, a week, or a month be like? If this hunger deep inside isn’t a sign, then what is it?
***
“This is so romantic,” Kat says as we surge across the city, heading toward the suburbs where Gray lives. “You’re like Juliet, hmm? Valiantly fighting for your love.”
“Let’s hope the story ends differently, though,” I mutter.
But there’s a big chance that it ends the same, if not exactly, but at least in spirit. It’s not like the obstacles have disappeared. If I were being less selfish, I’d probably use my logical brain to talk myself down from this romantic ledge. But there’s nothing logical about this all-too-natural yearning deep within.
The closer we get to his house, the more certain I feel.
“We should park around the corner,” I tell Katerina. “I don’t want Emery to see us before we’ve sorted some things out. Heck, I’m sure Emery’s asleep, but it’s better to be on the safe side.”
“You’re so kind, Cat-kin. Good idea. Are you going to call him?”
When Katerina parks the car, nerves swirl through me. I probably should’ve called him before we drove all this way in the middle of the night. But that would’ve given me time to lose my nerve. When I take out my phone to make the call, Dad’s name appears.
“Wait a sec. My dad is calling me.”
“Maybe wondering where you are?”
“Maybe. I’m a jerk. I should’ve told him.” I answer. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, Callie,” Dad replies. “Sorry—where are you?”
“It’s hard to explain,” I reply, then quickly realize this cryptic approach could cause serious problems considering our history. “Well, I drove out to see my ex-boss, Gray. I know how it sounds, but—”
“Wow, that’s funny,” Dad mutters.
“What’s funny about that?”
“Gray is here.”
“What?”
“He swung by the apartment. He was very apologetic about calling so late, but he said he had to see you. He said he had some things to tell you. Callie. This polite young man isn’t just your boss, is he?”
I smile at the way Dad phrases it. Of course, Gray is far older than me. But to Dad, he’s a polite young man. “No, Dad. He’s much more than that.”