Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
“No. It’s a side effect from some of my medicines. Cold and sleepy.”
I reached out and felt her head. She wasn’t warm.
Max attempted a smile, but it looked like she didn’t have the energy. She stepped aside for me to come in. “How long has she been sleeping?”
“Maybe a half hour. She conked out on the drive home.”
“Would you mind putting her in her room?”
“Sure.”
I walked my princess to her room and laid her down on the bed. She stirred, but rolled on her side and never opened her eyes. Tucking her in, I kissed her forehead before backing out of her room, trying not to make a sound.
Giving a shit about Max’s well being caused me to have mixed emotions. I wanted to walk right past where she sat in the living room—giving the same fucks she’d given about me as I’d rotted in prison for three years. But I was human. Not to mention, she took care of my daughter. So I needed to make sure she was capable of doing that.
“You going to be okay?” I stood in the archway between the hall and living room.
Before she could answer, a teakettle whistled.
“I don’t want that to wake up Ella.” She stood and walked into the kitchen.
I followed. “Do you have anyone who helps you? Checks in on you?”
She took the kettle from the heat and moved it to a different burner. “I don’t have many bridges that I haven’t burned. I have Paula, who works for me. She takes care of Ella while I work.”
I knew Max was an only child like me; she and her mother weren’t close. As far as I remembered, she had an aunt in Connecticut she got along with pretty well. What was her name? Betty, Betsy… Her last name was Potter, and I remembered it was close to those children’s books about rabbits. Beatrix. That’s it. “What about Beatrice?”
“She died last year. Stroke.” Max opened a cabinet and reached up for a mug. “Would you like some tea?”
“I’m sorry to hear that. No tea. Thanks.”
She poured a mug full of hot water and dipped a tea bag in. Turning around she said, “I’ll be fine. I can handle her still, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I can take her for the night if it’s too much.”
“No.” She shook her head and looked down. “I’ll know when it’s too much. I won’t put her at risk, even though I do want to spend as much time as I can with her.”
I nodded.
Max let out a big sigh. “I need to say something you might not like.”
What exactly did she think had come out of her mouth in recent years that I did like? The lies, the manipulation? I bit my tongue.
“What’s on your mind, Max?”
“I’m concerned about Layla.”
“What about her?” I snapped.
“Ella is going to lose her mother. That’s going to devastate her. But there’s nothing either one of us can do about that.”
“Understood. But what’s that got to do with Layla?”
“Ella will grow attached to her. She’ll seek out another woman. It’s natural. She will want a mother figure.”
I clenched my jaw. “And?”
“And when Layla walks away, it will be no different than a death in Ella’s mind—another loss when she’s already so vulnerable.”
“You sound pretty fucking sure she’s walking away.”
“You’re a hard man to walk away from, Gray. But she’s not ready for a family yet.”
“You spent, what, a half hour in her office a few weeks ago? Pretending to be a client when you really just wanted to stick your fucking nose into my business? And you know all this about her?”
“We spent a few minutes together today talking. I watched her with you and Ella.”
I shook my head. “You’re fucking unbelievable.”
“You see what you want to see in women, Gray. Always have. I guess it has something to do with your kind mother and losing her at such a tender age.”
“What are you, Sigmund Fucking Freud? You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
And what the hell was I still doing standing here? I turned around and started to walk toward the door, never looking back as I spoke. “I’ll be here Sunday at noon to pick up Ella.”
***
Layla had been quiet the entire ride back to Manhattan. I hadn’t noticed for three quarters of it because I was still steaming from my little conversation with Max. That woman had balls to try to tell me about my love life. I’d decided to keep her thoughts to myself, rather than unload them on Layla. There was no point in making the strain between her and Max worse.
“You’re quiet.” I laced my fingers with hers as we exited the bridge. “Everything okay?”
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her beautiful eyes. “Yeah. Just tired.”
“Are you still up for going out to dinner?”