Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 129084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
She stills, a deep breath filling her chest as her eyes stay trained on the wall outside her door. The emptiness of the space between us lengthens, and she starts walking. Fuck. I’ve blown it with her. Twice now.
Only gifting me the view of her back, she asks, “Where?”
“Buddakan.”
“I’ll need to dress up.” Her head falls to the side as if the weight of the world hangs on her shoulders. Maybe it does. I wouldn’t know what’s going on with the ebbs and flows of her moods. That night in the Hamptons was fun to explore her differing sides, but we kept things physical more than discovering who we were on the inside.
Her reactions are impulsive, and her beauty is so incredibly distracting, but I don’t take it personally. I need to stay focused on my career despite how much I’d love to kiss her again. “I need you, Liv.”
She turns back, some of the concern lifted from her brow. No animosity is disrupting her fine features, but a look of determination bears down. She leaves, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll see you there at seven.”
8
Olivia
Setting the bags on the counter, I don’t bother emptying them yet. Instead, I wash my hands and cut through my bedroom to reach my bathroom. Maxwell sits in his stabilizing chair in the tub, immediately splashing with a loud squeal when he sees me. “Mama.”
Cassandra and I share a smile before I kneel beside the tub. Reaching in, I tickle his tummy, causing an uproar of belly laughs. That sound shoots straight to my heart, filling it. “Hi, Maxwell.”
I duck just as he sends water my way. Laughing, I say, “He loves to splash me.”
She holds out her shirt and says, “You’re not alone.”
“Aw, hey,” I start, getting up to sit on the edge of the tub instead. “Sorry I was late.”
“It’s only a few minutes. I don’t mind if you need to run errands. I know it’s much harder with Maxwell in tow.”
“I appreciate you staying, but I’m going to pay you for your time.”
Getting to her knees, she adjusts her jeans. “I won’t say no.”
“Good.” Rubbing Maxwell’s chunky little leg, I add, “I can take over.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. I appreciate the extra help, but I enjoy my evenings with him.” I glance over at her again. “He brings calm to the chaos for me.”
“I can see that. He’s been fed and is happy.” With the towel in her hand, she moves closer to give it to me. “I’ve already washed him. He’s just playing now.”
She’s more than I could have asked for. Cassandra has become a friend. Not but a few years younger than I am, she loves kids, and especially my son. We’ve spent holidays together, and she’s dried my tears when life overwhelmed me as a new mother, and I was working again.
I’ve been there for her when she had a kitchen fire and no other place to live, gone through a breakup, and graduated from NYU. I say, “He loves the water.”
She hands me the towel. “So much. I didn’t have the heart to pull him out just yet, but he’s ready whenever you are.”
“Thanks for taking care of him.” Holding the soft terry towel, I stand, not sure how to ask her about Friday without her thinking there’s more to it. “How would you feel about staying late on a Friday night? I can pay overtime.”
Her eyes slightly widen, but then she tries to calm her reaction. Nice try, but I already know what’s coming next. She asks, “Is it a date?” I laugh when she continues, “Because you know I’ll stay all night if you need a night out or a night in at his place.” She’s not lying. She’s only mentioned that I should find a companion for a night or life a few hundred times or more. I’ve not been looking for either and don’t intend to anytime soon.
Her giddiness gets the better of her, and she giggles. “Please tell me it’s a date.”
Maxwell is the one laughing now. I rub the top of his head, admiring this handsome kid. “She’s funny, isn’t she?”
“Fun,” he says, but I think he’s unaware of the fact he said an actual word. He’s also quickly distracted by a rubber ducky floating in front of him.
It feels good to laugh. Unwrapping the towel, I set it aside, ready to plunk Maxwell in it. I glance at Cassandra. “It’s a business dinner, not a date.” Willing away that night in the Hamptons with Noah hasn’t erased one memory despite my best efforts. A date would undo any progress I’ve made . . . if I’ve made any at all.
It’s best to keep things in perspective—a professional dinner with clients.
Taking hold of Maxwell, I bring him against me. I don’t care that he’s soaking my shirt. I love holding him close.