Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
He’d pushed for a change that benefited only him. It didn’t matter that he’d just lost his grandmother or that he was estranged from his family. It didn’t matter that his success was supposed to be all about not being like his father.
He had become exactly like his father. Working all the time, missing out on his family, never seeing his mother for years until she was almost on her deathbed. And even now, when he went to see Adam and his family, he was always rushed, always thinking about the next big gig, always shortchanging the visits.
He didn’t have kids he could force to work in his restaurant, true—and he was willing to try new things. But like his father, who put his work first, who spent time with his family only because he had them working in the restaurant, Ransom had put his career first over the love of his life.
So she’d left him.
And he was probably well on his way to giving himself the same heart attack that had killed his dad.
He watched the entire movie. He cheered for Vivian’s triumph. He clapped when Edward finally acknowledged the hotel manager, when he finally paid attention to all the little people. Even after the credits rolled, he sat in contemplation for fifteen long minutes, one for each of the years he’d wasted. He absorbed Ava’s message to him through the movie. Everything he should have seen back then, everything that hammered at him now.
Ransom knew exactly what he had to do if he didn’t want to lose her all over again.
Grabbing his cell phone, he walked to the window, already tapping her icon saved in his Favorites menu, and opened up the blinds to the glorious bay and the magnificent towers of the Golden Gate.
Though she would have seen his name on the screen, she didn’t ignore him. And she didn’t hang up on him when he said her name. “Ava.” Just her name.
She said only, “Yes.”
His throat clogged up. “Can—” Then he rushed it all. “Can you meet me at Alamo Square as soon as possible?”
* * *
It wasn’t a demand. It was a question. And Ava heard the plea in it. “Is now soon enough?”
His soft chuckle rumbled over the airwaves. “Well, I’m not actually there yet.”
She smiled as if he could see it. “Then soon.” She was still in her chauffeured car, and she wouldn’t be going back to the office.
He whispered, “Soon,” before he added, “I need to tell you something.”
“And I have something to tell you too.”
They hung up with gentle good-byes, his words ringing in her ears.
She wouldn’t walk away this time. Not after that conversation with Fernsby and Gabby—well, mostly Fernsby. He’d helped her realize she didn’t have to be afraid of a second chance. She wouldn’t cock it up. She wouldn’t let Ransom cock it up either.
He was already in Alamo Square when her driver dropped her off.
The park wasn’t overcrowded, but tourists sat on blankets on the grass or stood on the sidewalk snapping pictures of San Francisco’s famous Victorian Painted Ladies across the street. The homes’ pastel colors glowed gloriously in the late afternoon sun against the backdrop of high-rises and business buildings.
Ransom sat with all the other onlookers.
Her heart beat faster, her breath came quicker, and her skin heated with memories of their morning sojourn in her office. Crossing the grass on her toes so her heels didn’t sink into the sod, she was only steps away when she realized what he’d done.
Sitting on a blanket he’d spread out, his shoes lay beside him, socks tucked inside, and a book of Shakespeare’s sonnets next to him.
She stood over him and whispered, “Where are the snap dogs?” Just as Vivian had.
He pointed. A hot dog stand was busy serving customers on the corner.
Her heart wanted to burst right out of her chest. “You watched Pretty Woman.”
Looking up at her, he smiled. “I did.”
And she read the meaning in all the props. This wasn’t a short-term gig where he’d satisfy both her catering and her physical needs, then fly off when his job was done.
He might even love her. Because really, what man would watch Pretty Woman all by himself if he wasn’t in love?
Picking up the book of sonnets, he patted the blanket beside him. Ava sat, her legs curled beneath her, one hand supporting her as she gazed at him, a man more beautiful than any of the Painted Ladies.
“I pretty-womaned you.” The mocha color of his eyes was softer, gentler, and maybe a little misty. “I’m so sorry, Ava. Everything you said this morning was right. I didn’t mean to, but I ghosted you. And I understand now how you felt. Nobody ever wants to be erased or deleted by someone they love.” He raised her hand to his lips, kissed her knuckles in the softest, most exquisite caress. “I always intended to come back to you, to talk it through. But when I got home to my apartment, all your things were gone.”