Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 161434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 807(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 807(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
His eyes are narrow, questioning. It’s like he can sense the guilt wafting off me.
Damn him. Time to come clean.
“Ward, I did something stupid while Reese was new—”
“Besides mistaking her for a frat boy, offering to hook her up, and having her escort a half-naked client into his hotel room?”
“Yes,” I force out. “I did something worse, and that’s why she got frosty with me. I’ve always wanted to make it up to her ever since. I think finally we’re on better terms again and I’d like to keep it that way. It’s my chance to un-fuck our relationship—work relationship, obviously,” I add that last part hastily.
Ward blinks at me.
“You did something besides that abysmal introduction? Do I want to know?”
You really don’t, I think to myself.
When he puts it like that, it daggers me even more why she named me Nick the Prick.
“Whatever. It’s none of my business, as long as it’s not a mess for the company,” he snarls, pacing the room before his eyes circle back to me with worry. “I hope this makes up for whatever else you did to that poor woman. You’d better un-fuck things, all right.”
“I will.”
But I also hope I can fix a whole lot more. I don’t want to be anyone’s prick.
If I can smooth over the storm I created with Reese, maybe I can prove to everyone—including myself—that I’m more than just sex, booze, and bad decisions.
Am I actually more than that, though?
I unpack the stuffie chain and work on hanging it from the ceiling. Ward opens boxes of stuffed animals, chuckling like a big kid himself when he unwraps a few googly-eyed critters.
Paige comes in holding a coffee cup a little later.
“What’s up, sweetheart?” Ward asks, this look I envy crossing his face when he sees his wife.
It’s like all the world’s problems—including the latest grief I’ve given him—melt away as soon as he’s in her presence.
“Whoa! There’s...a slide in Grandma’s office. Do I get to test it?” she says with a giggle.
Ward clips a stuffie to the chain.
“We’re not finding out.” He looks at me. “Someday, you’ll make a great dad.”
“Says the guy clipping pink unicorns to a rope from the ceiling. You’re going to be an amazing father,” Paige says.
He turns to face her, his eyes train on her lips.
“I told you I’m ready...”
She closes the space between them. He brushes her face with his hand and kisses her.
These two are adorably disgusting together.
“Paige, did you need something?” I ask, cutting in before I’m hostage to a make-out session.
She takes a step away from him. “I’m just here to watch the show. You two could be the Property Brothers.”
“I think Nick’s gunning to star in his own show. The Mannie,” Ward says, stabbing a finger at me and grinning like he’s so damn funny.
Idiot.
Paige slurps her coffee. “Netflix is doing a lot of reboots these days! I could see Nick in a Manny reboot.”
I glare at her.
She laughs, jabbing a thumb at my brother. “Sorry. Ward started it, crankyface.”
“Way to throw me under the bus,” he says.
“Well, you did,” she says.
“Will you two get out of here? I need to finish up so I can look for a real nanny,” I growl, folding my arms. “I have my own company to run on top of it, thank you very much. Reese wants to come back to work, and she can’t do it without childcare. I think she needs the distraction. So, if you don’t mind.”
“Nick, are you okay?” Paige asks, giving me a worried look. “Sometimes I think you’re competing to swipe the bossy grump award from Ward.”
“Never better,” I snap, hating that she’s right.
Ward and Paige exchange a slow, concerned glance.
“I should get back to work,” she says, saving face.
Ward nods and follows her out the door, leaving me in the world of shit I’m trying so hard to dig myself out of.
9
A Family Matter (Reese)
If I haven’t lost track, we’re watching Frozen for the seventh time in less than forty-eight hours.
I may be sick of this movie, but it keeps Millie from asking questions. We’ll watch it fourteen more times if it delays me having to weave deeper lies about her mom.
My phone rings with an unknown number. I grab it and answer, desperately hoping it’s the attorney Nick set me up with.
“This is Reese,” I say.
“Miss Halle?” a polite but very serious voice asks.
Maybe it is the attorney’s office.
“Yes, that’s me.” The words come out strained with urgency and excitement. The woman on the other end probably thinks I’ve been staring at the phone, waiting for this call with bated breath.
And she’d be right.
“Miss Halle, my name is Elaina Smith. I’m a caseworker at Child Protective Services.”
Child Protective Services? I’ve had the kid for barely more than a day and someone called CPS?
“Okay?”
“Abby Halle was very worried about what would happen to her daughter once she was arrested. She told the officers at the scene that the kid was with Jane Gamlin. When we contacted Mrs. Gamlin, she informed us you picked her daughter up. Is Amelia Halle in your custody now?”