Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Roland was a pest.
Paloma was a vulture.
And AJ was a snake.
Thus, Jamie wasn’t certain Nora was right.
But there was nothing else he could do.
Beyond the ranch, he’d taken everything AJ had. Roland was his woman’s ex, and the father of her children, so Roland might think his hands weren’t tied, but Jamie understood, in some ways, his were. And he wasn’t comfortable fucking with a woman. Paloma wasn’t his favorite person, but she had nothing but fading looks. He couldn’t live with himself if he found a way to leach blood from that stone.
“Fuck,” he muttered again, dropping his head back to the sofa.
Nora curved a hand around the side of his neck and pushed up so he could see her. “We’ll be just fine, darling.”
Jamie was pleased to hear the strength behind her assertion.
She believed that.
But Jamie had a bad feeling that something was coming.
And Jamie had not made the life he’d made by ignoring his intuition.
It wouldn’t take long at all for him to discover, as usual, he was very right.
CHAPTER 16
VAN CLEEF & ARPELS
Nora
It was early the next week, and Dru and I had just finished meeting with the first of the three interior designers we were interviewing regarding the brownstone.
Not unusual for New York traffic, four blocks from my building, we encountered gridlock.
I took this opportunity to think back on the time I just spent with Dru, because gridlock was annoying (no matter how usual it was, you never got used to it), and the time I spent with Dru was absolutely not.
It was Dru who started it, asking if I wanted to pop somewhere for a coffee after the meeting.
Obviously, I said yes. Though, I was somewhat concerned about what this may be regarding, considering we’d just discussed new design schemes for the brownstone. I was worried, now that the project was becoming more real, she’d started to have issues with it.
I would find she had issues, but they were other issues, and just as heart wrenching.
I learned this once we were seated in the bustling café with our lattes, and she appeared uncomfortable.
That was when I started it.
“You know, you can talk to me about anything,” I told her carefully.
She ticked her head, her fabulous flame hair shifting across her shoulders, before she announced, “This is going to sound silly, or, I don’t know, disrespectful.”
Oh dear.
“Nothing is silly if it concerns you,” I replied. “And disrespectful to whom?”
I braced when I saw actual pain in her eyes before she admitted, “Mom.”
Oh dear wasn’t the half of it.
“What about your mom, darling?” I prompted gently.
Like she was confessing a dirty secret, she shared, “She wasn’t into clothes. I mean, she was. She liked getting all dolled up to go out on the town with Dad. But that wasn’t like…every night.”
“All right,” I murmured when she stopped speaking.
“And well, so…um, we didn’t really have any of those mother-daughter bonding experiences while shopping. Because she wasn’t like…into that. I mean, not really. She had her own style, but it was pretty laid back.” She smiled a soft smile. “She was more about Dad, me, and her practice. You know?”
Oh, I knew.
I knew that was something Dru wanted, but she didn’t get it, simply because it wasn’t Rosalind’s thing, but it would turn out it was Dru’s. She’d just not had the chance to grow old enough with her mother in her life so they could possibly explore it.
My heart bleeding, I replied, “I know.”
“And it’s just that…I guess, uh…”
When she seemed to be having difficulty, I repeated, “Again, you can tell me anything.”
“Well, you’re into fashion,” she said on a rush. “Designers. I mean, you knew the name of the Chloe bag that Heiress picked, not just the designer, but the name of the bag. And you always look more than put together. You’re always on the best-dressed lists. It seems to come so easy to you and, the thing is…” she trailed off.
“You’re into fashion too,” I stated.
Something animated came over her, so much of it, she bopped in her seat. “Yes, but more. I’m like into…the art of fashion. The beauty that designers create. Or how they push the envelope. How they style things. How they build a runway.”
“Would you like to go to a runway, or several, with me during Fashion Week?” I asked.
Her eyes turned into sea-green flames of excitement. “Seriously?”
“Of course,” I replied. “I’d love it, dear. Neither of my girls are particularly interested. Mika will go at a push, if she’s not busy with a project. You’ll be granting one of my greatest wishes.” I leaned toward her. “I’ve always wanted to share my love of fashion with someone.”
“I would really, really, really love that,” she whispered.
Yes, I could see she would.
She would also really, really, really love to share something with the woman in her father’s life. Something that was ours. Something that we’d have forever. Something she could have with a woman in her life who was older than her, who could mentor her, who could be there for her when a woman like that was needed.