Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“Good morning.” I shove my hair from my face and grin at the handsome shirtless man covered in baby food and the squirmy, happy baby in the high chair.
“We had a bit of an incident,” he says, dabbing at his rippled abs with a burp rag. “But I’ve got it under control.”
“Yes, I see that.” Pouring a mug of coffee, I stand back and watch this moment unfold in real time.
It’s crazy how this man blew into my life like a hurricane, but he’s settled in so peacefully.
It’s almost too good to be true.
“Oh, hey, would you mind grabbing my phone? It’s on the charger in the guest room,” he asks as he loads a baby spoon full of Hawaiian Delight.
“On it.”
I mean … we don’t make the worst team.
And if something happened to come of this, it’s not like crazier things haven’t happened.
Shaking my head, I quiet my inner narrative before she gets too ahead of herself, and I shuffle down the hall, coffee mug in hand, to retrieve his phone. Only the second I pull it from the plug, the screen comes to life and a message appears.
TATUM: I miss you and love you so much, baby. And I absolutely cannot wait to see you next week. XO
My stomach sinks. Rock hard. Like an anvil going over a cliff in a Warner Brothers’ cartoon, only far more painful because this is real life.
If Fabian’s ex-fiancée is texting him that she loves and misses him and can’t wait to see him, there’s got to be some sort of conversation happening between them.
People don’t send things like that out of the blue for no reason.
My mouth turns dry, but I manage a painful swallow before taking a deep breath. I wait until the nausea subsides before heading out to face him. And with each step, I contemplate confronting him about this. For the past week and a half, he’s been kissing me, wooing me, taking care of me. And last night we screwed so many times I stopped counting.
Tears cloud my vision, but I wipe them away before they have a chance to fall.
We’re not dating. He doesn’t owe me anything. And I knew from the moment he first kissed me that this was a bad idea.
Honestly, it serves me right.
If I’d have stuck to my guns, held steadfast to my original plan, I wouldn’t be standing here right now, in the dark of my own home, feeling like the world’s biggest fool.
Sucking in a deep breath, I put on a brave face and stride to the kitchen, his phone in hand.
“Here you go.” I keep my tone light and place it face down on the island.
“You’re the best.” He kisses the side of my forehead.
Only this time, my insides fill with knots instead of butterflies.
“Oh, forgot to tell you,” he says. “I have to go to California for a few days to take care of some things. Leaving first thing in the morning, hoping to be back mid-week.”
With my back to him, I nod and swallow the dry lump in my throat so my voice doesn’t break.
“Okay,” I say. “Sounds good.”
Visions of last night stop dancing in my head, and I promise myself that someday I’ll forget the way he looked at me when I was dressed up, the way he worshipped my curves and whispered all the right things into my ear at all the right moments.
Fabian is hot like fire.
I’m sure I’m not the first girl he’s ever burned, and I certainly won’t be the last.
It was fun while it lasted …
Chapter 24
Fabian
* * *
I zip my suitcase Sunday and wheel it to the door before heading to the living room to see my girls one last time before I head home for a few days. In the midst of everything going on, I’d forgotten I had a photoshoot scheduled for some fitness magazine for this week, and I figured while I’m home I might as well have a come-to-Jesus meeting with Tatum because the barrage of texts and phone calls hasn’t stopped. I’d block her number, but knowing her, she’ll just get a new one, and changing the number I’ve had for over a decade will be more hassle than it’s worth.
“Hey,” I say to Rossi. “Going to head out, so …”
Focused on the baby, she doesn’t so much as bother to look up. “Have a good flight.”
“I should be back Wednesday,” I say.
“Okay.” Her tone is flat. Different. Unreadable. Which describes how she’s been the past twenty-four hours.
Everything between us was amazing … until I mentioned going back home yesterday, then something changed. The warmhearted, jovial woman left and an ice queen showed up in her place. Only she isn’t cruel and heartless—Rossi Bianco could never be those things. This version of her is simply distant, less receptive.