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)
“That offer,” Rossi says. “About moving all of us to California … did you mean that?”
“If it means having my best girls with me year round, I’ll do anything,” I say. “I know I’m asking a lot from you, but I know this can work. I’ve been around the world more times than I can count, Rossi, and I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel half the things you do.”
Despite knowing I could give her the entire world if she asked, the stubborn, independent woman standing before me has no need for me—a fact that only makes her that much hotter in my eyes.
Leaning closer, she presses her body against mine, tipping her chin up and staring so deeply into my eyes I feel it in my fucking soul.
“You’re crazy,” Rossi says as Lucia grabs a fistful of her hair.
“Crazy for you.” I claim her rosy lips before turning my attention to my daughter. “And you, too.”
With my entire world in my arms, everything I need—and everything I’ll ever need—are finally mine.
Chapter 39
Rossi
* * *
“Put your phone down …” I drag a naked thigh across Fabian’s equally naked torso and moan against his bare chest. Ever since I gave him the green light yesterday, he’s been making phone calls, sending texts, and coordinating arrangements with various staff out west. “You’ve been on that thing all day.”
“Just trying to make this as easy for you as possible.” He places it on the nightstand, rolling back toward me and slipping a hand between my thighs. His finger slides along my seam before plunging inside of me. “I’ve got an entire team of people whose sole purposes are to make my life easier—no reason why you shouldn’t reap the benefits of that.”
I’m wet—and deliciously sore—but it still sends a shiver down my back and a buck to my hips. A few more minutes of this, and I should be fully recharged …
“We haven’t even told my sister yet,” I remind him as our lips crash. “Or my parents. It’s okay to go slow with this …”
“More than happy to slow down once we get to California.” He nibbles my ear.
“Just seems like it’s all happening so fast.” I trace a finger down his undulating abs. “Question.”
“Shoot.”
“Am I going to be the only person without an eight-pack in Malibu?” I ask. “Not that it matters. And not that it’s a deal breaker. I just want to know what I’m getting into … and are they going to make fun of me if I order ranch dressing? I heard they make fun of Midwesterners who order ranch. Do I need to get highlights? Isn’t everyone blonde out there?”
I’m half kidding, but also very much curious.
I’ve lived in Illinois my entire life—born, raised, educated, and established.
Sliding his fingers from my sex, he rolls me off of him, turns me onto my stomach, and smacks my ass with a playful swat before following up with a nip.
“Promise me something, Rossi,” he says. I careen back toward him, studying his face in the dim lamplight of my humble bedroom.
“What?”
“Never change,” he says. “Stay exactly the way you are.” Tracing his fingertips along my hips until my nerve-ending spark electric, he adds, “This. This woman with the curves and the hard-hitting questions and the wild dark hair. This is the woman I love.”
My heart swells, and I swear it grows larger with every beat as I stare into the eyes of a man so crazy about us he’s rearranging his entire life to fit us in. From the moment I told him “yes” yesterday, my emotions have teetered between excitement and fear to everything in between.
But a wise, very handsome tennis player once told me, decisions rooted in fear are almost always the wrong ones.
“I love you.” A month ago, I never dreamed I’d be saying these words to my daughter’s donor—nor did I dream I’d be agreeing to pack up everything I own in the back of my Subaru so I could move out west to be a family with him.
He runs his lips against mine, his fingers lacing through my hair. “I love you, too.”
Once again, fate ripped up the plans I had—and offered me something better instead.
Chapter 40
Two Weeks Later …
* * *
Fabian
* * *
“Okay, you should be good to go.” Taylor rocks on her Converse-covered heels, hands deep in the back pockets of her cut-off shorts as she plants herself in my kitchen. “The baby-proofer just left, and I cleared out that section of your closet and those drawers in your dresser like you asked. Dinner’s being delivered at seven.” Her lips press together as she stares at the ceiling. “That should be it.”
The driver will be arriving with Rossi and Lucia any minute.
It’s been a week since I left them back in Illinois.
A painful, tortuous one-hundred-sixty-eight hours.