Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Just as I’m about to tuck my phone into the pocket of my robe, it vibrates, indicating an incoming message.
I close my eyes and whisper, “I hope it’s one more from Daniel.”
A smile slides over my lips when I read his response:
Daniel: Thanks. Don’t forget to lick the frosting from the corner of your lips. I’ll see you soon.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Daniel
Twisting the truth is never a good idea, especially if you’re doing it to avoid a discussion with your spouse.
In my case, I didn’t lie to Gina when I left her a note telling her that I was headed to Boston.
What I didn’t mention is that I’m the one who sought out the client I’m on my way to see in Massachusetts. She said months ago that when I found myself back in New York, I should carve out time to visit her.
I noticed her name when I was scrolling through my client list last night after Gina and I got home. A quick email later, and she invited me to join her for lunch today at her favorite restaurant overlooking Boston Harbor.
I push my phone into the pocket of my suit jacket as one of the flight attendants helps a man across the aisle from me cram his carry-on bag into the overhead compartment.
My fingers brush against the silver ring I’ve transferred from one jacket to another over the past few days.
When Gina discovered it last night, I told her the truth. I’m keeping it safe. I have no idea why the hell I’m doing that, but it feels important.
I slip the ring around the tip of my index finger and slide it out of my pocket.
I glance around before I take the ring and put it back where Gina first placed it that night in Vegas.
Once it’s wrapped around that finger on my left hand, I spread my fingers on my thigh and take in how it looks.
“Hello to you.”
A breathy feminine voice lures my gaze up. I’m met with a pretty woman around my age with red hair and green eyes.
Even though the day has barely begun, she’s dressed to impress in a navy blue suit.
“Morning,” I offer as I half stand because my dad always taught me that chivalry is not dead.
She chats softly with the flight attendant, who takes over placing her small carry-on bag into the overhead bin. Since I’m meeting a client in Boston who essentially funded my first apartment, I’m sparing no expense for this quick trip. It’s first class all the way.
“I’m Yara,” she offers her hand as she takes her seat. “Who might you be?”
I sit down, too, glancing at my left hand before offering her my right. “Daniel.”
She takes it, shaking it for a moment too long as she holds eye contact with me.
I know that move because I’ve used it time and time again when I’ve crossed paths with a beautiful woman I wanted to see spread out on the sheets of a bed.
“Do you live in Boston, or is it more of a one-night stand type of visit?”
I hold in a laugh because Yara’s pickup game puts mine to shame. She’s jumped straight to the point.
My gaze again drops to my left hand and the ring that legally ties me to Gina. I feel bound to the beauty even if the marriage is set to end soon.
I spread my fingers over my thigh again, hoping to lure Yara’s gaze down. It works like a charm.
“Oh.” She lets out a faint giggle. “You’re married.”
“I am.”
Still chuckling, she pushes for more. “Happily?”
“Very,” I answer honestly because, I know my wife is at home eating a breakfast I bought for her.
It took half of the night to arrange it and a substantial tip to get Carla Shaw, one of the owners of Dobb’s Bakery in Brooklyn, to open it briefly to allow me to buy Gina that slice of the best chocolate cake in New York City, but I did it.
I did it solely to put a smile on her face, even though I knew I wouldn’t see it.
I couldn’t see it because I need at least a few more days to bask in the feeling of being her husband before this marriage ceases to exist.
“She’s very lucky,” she says politely. “You seem like a great catch.”
“I am.” I nod. “But I’m the fortunate one. My wife is an incredible woman, and I treasure every second I get with her.”
“Awww,” she draws that out with a breathy exhale. “Here’s hoping I find a man just like you one day. How did you two meet?”
“We met when we were kids,” I explain as the pilot announces our impending departure from La Guardia.
She buckles her seatbelt. “A love that spans a lifetime. There can’t be anything better than that.”
There is, and it’s staying married to my wife, but judging by her eagerness to discuss the end of our marriage, I’ll be as single as Yara before the end of the month.