Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
I nod decisively. “We are.”
He goes quiet again, dipping his face, staring at the black marble as if he’s lost in thought. “Thanks again for hosting the fundraiser. That meant a lot to me,” he says to the counter, like he has to drag those words up from the depths of his soul. “And the flowers for Cynthia. And the breakfasts.”
“Anytime,” I say, grabbing onto some hope at last, clutching it in my hands.
When David raises his face, he no longer looks conflicted. He seems…resolved. “Cyn and I talked last night. She told me about your visit. That was super cool of you, to play cards with her.”
It sounds like it costs him something to say that, but it also sounds like it’s a cost he’s willing to pay.
“I was happy to do it.”
“It meant a lot to her…and it means a lot to me,” he says, the hurt vanishing from his tone.
I’m tense, but it’s a good tension, full of hope and possibility.
“It’s still weird though,” he says.
“I hear you.”
“I mean…we dated the same girl, Dad,” he says, then turns to me, his eyes saying can you believe that.
“Yeah,” I say, then I just shrug like what can you do? “I guess good taste runs in the Adams men.”
He snort-laughs. “Oh, god. Please. No dad jokes about Layla.”
“That was not a dad joke.”
“That was a dad joke,” he insists.
I’ll let him have this victory since I’ve won something better. His respect. “Fine. It was,” I add, then I gesture to the kitchen. “Stay for dinner?”
He lifts one brow in the biggest question of all time. “She’s not coming over for dinner, is she? Because I’m not ready for a family meal to meet your…new girlfriend.”
I laugh. “No. She’s not.”
I picture Layla right now, maybe out with friends, or shooting a video, or practicing Krav Maga, but still concerned about David and his feelings. She’s let me take the lead, but she wants to make things right with him as well. I set a hand on his shoulder. “She cares deeply about you. She thinks of you as a good friend and doesn’t want to lose you.”
David nods thoughtfully. “I’ll see her soon. I promise. But it’s going to take a while for me to get the image out of my head of her telling me at the diner that she was going to have a date with some sexy, powerful man she met at a conference.” He mimes gagging.
I just laugh. What else can I do? Especially since that’s a hell of a compliment.
But as I’m about to head to the kitchen, he grabs my arm, his face deadly serious. “Don’t hurt her.”
It’s a cold, clear warning.
“I won’t,” I say, assuring him.
He squeezes harder. “I mean it. She’s been through a lot. She’s one of the strongest, toughest, brightest, most supportive people I know. And if you break her heart, I don’t know that I can forgive you for that.”
I fucking love him. I extend a hand. “That’s fair. And I promise you, I won’t break her heart.”
He shakes. “Don’t lie to me again either.”
Chastened, I agree. “I won’t.”
On that note, our roles return to the way they were. I wave him into the kitchen. “Get in here. You need to learn to cook.”
On a grumble, he follows me.
43
CLOSET ROMANTIC
Nick
I’m not a superstitious guy, but on Friday night, I do everything the same as I did when I had my first date with Layla.
After I shower, I play her videos as I trim my beard, brush my teeth, and get dressed.
“And for those of you just getting into makeup, no, a highlighter is not what you use in a book to underline your favorite parts,” she says with the cheekiest of cheeky grins. “It’s what you use to highlight your favorite parts of your face.”
She blows a cherry-red kiss to the camera, and I growl in appreciation for my Layla, my Lola, and her private moment just for me.
I close out of her app, grab my wallet, head out of my building, and get into the town car waiting for me at the curb. After I tell the driver where to go, I raise the partition.
On the ride uptown, I catch up on work emails, but when the vehicle swings onto Central Park West, I tuck my phone away so I have a few minutes to get out of the work zone completely.
And get into the first-night-out zone.
I’m almost giddy at the prospect of taking her out with no secrets.
At Layla’s building, I tell the driver I’ll be right back. When I head into the lobby to pick her up at her apartment, the elevator doors whoosh open.
The breath is knocked out of my lungs at the sight of her.
The woman in blue.
A silky sapphire dress clings to her gorgeous frame, hugging her hips, showing off her legs, and proudly displaying her glorious ink.