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)
Ella finished off her cone, and I bought a bottle of water to wet the napkins so she could clean off her hands, even though Freckles looked more than willing to take care of it for us. I’d thought our little heart-to-heart was over.
“Do I make you feel happy and warm inside?” she asked.
My heart swelled. “You do. And I’d do anything in the world to make you happy.”
She smiled that toothy grin. “That means you love me.”
I rubbed my nose against hers. “I certainly do. I love you very much, sweetheart.”
Her face got very serious. “Are you staying here?”
“I’m going to stay forever, Ella.”
***
I kept thinking about my conversation with Ella, even hours after I’d dropped her off. I’d meant every word I said to her. I loved her and would do anything in this world to make her happy. A month ago, if someone had asked me if I even wanted kids, I probably would’ve said no. My life experiences had made me sour on family life. I’d thought I knew the path I wanted to walk. Yet today, I didn’t just accept that this was my fate—I wanted Ella in my life. Sometimes the most unexpected things redirect our course, and we realize we had no idea where we were even going before.
Which made me think…if I hadn’t wanted a family not too long ago, and now I couldn’t imagine my life without Ella, couldn’t Layla feel the same way? Love changes everything.
If Ella didn’t want me as her father, wouldn’t I fight for her love? Wasn’t that what I’d essentially told her today?
What does love feel like?
It feels like you would do anything in the world for that person to make them happy.
How could I decide what might make Layla happy when I hadn’t even known what made me happy a month ago?
Fuck.
I’d screwed up. Big time. Again.
Layla might not want to be with me, but Rip, Etta, everyone was right—that wasn’t my choice to make. It was hers.
I picked up my cell and glanced at the time on the phone. Seven fifteen. Scrolling with shaky hands, I got up and grabbed my wallet and keys. I found the number I needed and pressed call.
“Etta, what time is Layla’s date?”
Chapter 37
* * *
Gray
Traffic. I jumped out of the cab two blocks from The Plaza and tossed a fifty at the driver. Quicker to walk. Which is what I started to do, until my walk turned into a jog, and the jog quickly turned into a full damn sprint.
The doorman wasn’t sure whether to put his hand up to stop me or open the door.
“Where’s the restaurant?” I demanded.
“Which one, sir?”
Shit. “All of them.”
I started at the bottom. Palm Court was packed with people, but none of them was Layla. Next I hit The Champagne Bar, although that came up empty, too. I waited for the elevator to The Rose Club, but became impatient and went in search of stairs. Taking them two at a time, I made my way up and brushed past the maître d’ as he attempted to help me.
No sign of her at the bar.
I headed to an interior flight of stairs, which led to an oversized living room-like setup. Scanning the large room, I was just about to move to my next stop when I saw the top of a woman’s head over a tall red chair in a private corner of the room. She was sitting alone.
My heart raced out of control. It had to be her. As I got closer, I realized I had no idea what the hell I was going to say. Weaving my way through the furniture, I caught sight of a set of legs. Gorgeous, sexy, spectacular legs. I’d know them anywhere.
I stopped behind her chair and took a few deep breaths before taking the plunge.
Layla had her head down and was texting on her phone as I approached. It took her a few seconds to realize someone was standing in front of her. When she looked up, she blinked a few times.
“Gray? What are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you.”
The surprise on her face morphed into anger. “Here? Now? You didn’t seem too concerned when I wanted to talk to you.” She stood and folded her arms across her chest. “Make an appointment with my secretary on Monday for whatever you need.”
“No.”
Her brows shot up. “No?”
“It can’t wait.”
She shook her head and stepped closer. The fire in her eyes should have made me back up, but instead it fucking turned me on. It reminded me of the first time we’d met. Her blunt mouth had attracted me to her even before I’d noticed how perfect her lips were. That had been our thing—straight-up, no-bullshit honesty.
Her hands flew to her hips. “You have some balls, you know that? You dump me, write me off as if I never existed, then show up here while I’m waiting to have dinner and expect me to drop everything and talk to you?”