Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
A smile parts my lips. “Good. He does sound like a good guy.”
I don’t know much about Brian Borges other than what Chesca told me after their first date last week. He’s an architect with a son a year younger than Kirby. Chesca plans to introduce both of them to our daughter at some point, but she doesn’t want that to happen until she’s sure the relationship is heading somewhere.
“Anything else?” I press, because it’s nearing seven and I want to surprise Carrie by being the one sprawled naked on the bed in the hotel suite when she arrives.
“Carrie Gilbert called,” she says with a light laugh. “She said you didn’t need to call her back, but maybe you could when your phone is up and running? It sounds like she wants to discuss the mural for Abby’s baby.”
I run a finger over my bottom lip. “Sure. I’ll do that.”
“Chesca filled me in on the perfume gift that Carrie made for Kirby.” I hear the smile within her words. “It made Chesca emotional. I got misty eyed, too. Kirby deserves all of these wonderful people in her life.”
“I agree,” I say, holding my emotions at bay.
My daughter does deserve all the good people in her life. I wish I could say the same for me. I want to be worthy of Carrie, but her soul is filled with light. I’m a jaded lawyer who hasn’t always done right by the people he cares about.
I was a jerk when I was younger. I used my family’s resources to gain favor with women and even once tried to bribe a professor in college into improving my grade.
I’ve changed since I’ve become a dad, but I still know I can improve. I want to. I want to be the type of man who Carrie is proud of.
“Are you off the clock for the night?” Svea asks. “Or is there something you need help with?”
“I’m done.” I huff out a laugh. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“You know it.” She pauses before going on, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, boss.”
“Night,” I say before I end the call.
When I turn around to search for Joan, I find her standing right behind me with a cell phone charger dangling from her fingers. “I found one in the junk drawer.”
Huffing out a laugh, I shake my head since I know the hotel suite has an array of phone chargers in the drawer of the foyer table. “You have a junk drawer?”
“Doesn’t everyone?” She smiles. “You don’t want to hang around and use this?”
“I can’t.” I pocket my phone before glancing at my watch.
“Hot date?”
Those words don’t come close to capturing what I’ll experience with Carrie tonight. “I’m meeting a remarkable woman for a few hours.”
Her gaze trails over my face. “Does your mother know you’re in love?”
“Who said I’m in love?”
“You didn’t have to.” She pats the center of my chest. “It’s what you didn’t say.”
My brows pinch together in silent query.
“You don’t want to label it,” she explains. “You don’t know how to yet, and that’s because you’ve never been in love before.”
My mom is well aware of the scope of my feelings for Chesca. She knew I’d never told Kirby’s mom I loved her. Lying to the mother of my child is something I will never do.
“Don’t tell my mom,” I warn with a playful wag of my finger. “I’ll tell her.”
“I won’t say a word,” she promises. “When you’re ready to tell her you love this remarkable woman, you will, and knowing your mom, she’ll be picking out wedding flowers right away.”
I kiss her cheek softly. “My remarkable woman is waiting for me.”
She pats my chin. “Cherish her always, Rook. Always.”
“That’s the plan.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Rook
As soon as I let myself into the firm’s suite at The Beaumont Hotel, I know something is amiss.
The scent of a woman’s fragrance hangs in the air, but it’s not Carrie’s.
It’s not the perfume she always wears. It’s certainly not one that she’s had a hand in developing.
I can identify all of those with my eyes closed.
This perfume is more floral with a sharp note of jasmine.
My gaze falls on the mess of clothing and shoes on the floor. They’re leading a path to the bedroom.
“What in the actual fuck is going on?” I murmur.
My answer comes waltzing out of the bedroom with her red hair tangled in a mess and a barely there bra and panty set covering everything I don’t want to see.
I bow my head to ensure I don’t view more than I want. “Who the hell are you?”
“Who are you?” she purrs back. “You’re a sight for a sore pussy.”
Since I don’t know what that means, I ignore it.
“My pussy was destroyed today.” She giggles. “It could use some love in the form of a kiss to make it better.”