Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
I blow out my cheeks, continuing to pace. What does my age matter, really? All any father wants for their daughter is a man who will devote his life to her. Make her his number one priority. I’m that man. If I’m ever blessed enough to have the chance to be a dad again, that’s all I’ll want for my daughter. A devoted man.
I stop pacing, rubbing my fist into my heart.
She’d be nineteen now.
Dating? Studying?
My lip begins to quiver, and I roughly wipe at my eyes before the tears fall and give me away. I look up and around, at all of the inbuilt speakers pouring music down on me. Moody Blues. Appropriate. My mood has certainly plummeted. I slip my hands into my pockets, feeling the necklace, trying to get my mind back to the present, watching my feet as I wander up and down again. I’m struggling.
What would she have been like?
What would I have been like? As a father to a young woman? An inspiration? A failure? A disappointment.
Would I have spiralled if she’d lived? If my actions hadn’t killed her, would I be a better man?
“I’ve never seen him so determined to live,” John apparently said to Ava last night. She told me in a whisper, half asleep. Would I have been so determined to not live if Rosie had lived?
I take my hands from my pockets and lower to the couch, sitting forward, my fingers fiddling, my body restless. I get back up, pace some more.
And then . . .
I look up and the air I was struggling to find suddenly rushes into my lungs, so fast I can’t keep up with the breaths. And there she is.
My reason to breathe.
My reason to go on.
To be the best man I can be.
But is it too late?
It’s never too late, Daddy.
I jolt, as Ava grabs the handrail, her eyes full of wonder. Wonder for me? Just look at her. I can hardly take it all in. Not the sight of her in a stunning black lace gown, her long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders. But the sight of her looking at me like I am her be all and end all.
“Oh Jesus,” I whisper. I lift a foot, the weight of the love I have for this woman making even the smallest of tasks, like walking, so fucking hard. I take each step with care, slowly, eyes unable to leave hers, and when I’ve made it to her, I offer my hand. I see her visibly inhale, her arm shaking as she lifts it and gives me her hand. I walk her down the stairs and finally take a moment away from her sheer presence to take in the exquisite dress she’s wearing. Fucking hell, it was made for her, the delicate fabric lightly kissing every gorgeous curve. I watch as her shoulders roll with her arduous breathing, and it’s such a relief to see. To know she’s struggling too.
I walk around the back of her, my eyes up and down, and suck in air when I find her back seriously lacking coverage, the dress plunging to reveal every smooth plane of her skin. I swallow, batting back my knee-jerk reaction, which is to cover her up. Hide her skin from the waiting eyes of the world. Except, I can’t. I can’t take away something from her that was clearly meant for her.
Like I hope no one takes her away from me.
My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I lift a shaky hand and place a shaky finger on the base of her neck, watching her body straighten, the perfect reaction to my touch. Painting a long, slow line down the center of her back, I relish the roll of her body that comes like a wave behind my fingertip. I kiss her skin and round her. “I can’t find my breath.” I pull her close and feel the inevitable reaction behind my fly. “I really like your dress.” I look down her front. “You didn’t try this one. I would have remembered this one.”
“Always in lace,” she whispers.
I look at her, stunned. “You chose this dress for me?” I move back, reaching into my pocket, feeling at the diamond. If they don’t already, tonight every female member of The Manor will know I’m off the menu. A sharp pain rides through my lip. And every male member is likely to have their legs broken if they so much as peek at her. Fucking hell, I’m at risk of having no members left. Would that be such a terrible thing? I’ve always thought The Manor would make an amazing hotel resort. Like, a real hotel resort. Maybe a golf club.
I frown and peek up. Ava’s quiet and still, letting me have my moment.
I pull the diamond out of my pocket and let it dangle from my finger between us. “Like I chose this for you?”