Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“Hey, sweetheart,” I said as I roused her as gently as I could. “Wake up.”
Ada yawned, right in my face, then rubbed her chubby fists over her eyes.
“Mommy, what time is it?”
“It’s time to go home, little one,” I said. “Ready to go back to our place?”
Ada yawned again. She closed her eyes and I scooped her into my arms and bundled her up.
I didn’t know what to think. It was true that I may have made a mistake – or even more than one – but was it too late?
What did I have with Nico, anyway? Hot sex and almost a contest of a relationship? We were always trying to one-up each other and even though it was exciting, I knew that it wasn’t exactly sustainable. That wasn’t how successful adult relationships worked.
Or was it?
To be honest, I had no idea. I’d never really had one – I’d slept with a couple of guys other than Nico back in college, but I’d always been so focused on myself that I’d never wanted a boyfriend. Everything I knew about relationships, I’d learned from things like Cosmo and the internet.
Once again, I found myself desperately wishing for a female best friend. Someone who wouldn’t judge me – someone who I could vent to, someone who would give me wine and popcorn and sage advice.
Plus, there wasn’t just Nico to think about. There was also his family, the thought of which terrified me. There were just too many variables at stake for me to feel comfortable divulging the secret of our daughter.
Obviously, I hadn’t grown up with divorced parents, but I’d seen it happen to my friends in school and it wasn’t pretty. Mom tugging them one way, Dad the other.
The last thing I wanted was for Ada’s life to become turbulent and tumultuous again, especially since I’d so recently gotten her settled down and happy in New York and at Dawning City.
I carried Ada out of the bedroom. She’d fallen asleep again with her thumb in her mouth, and I set her down on the couch as I packed my bag. Dad and Topher watched in silence, with Dad giving me a strange look.
“I think we’ll all sleep better in our own beds tonight,” I said. “It was great to see you both.”
Topher looked troubled, but he didn’t speak for a moment. When he got up and hugged me, he put his hands on my shoulders and held me at arm’s length.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said. “This is just serious, you know? Ada’s not a toy – she’s a real person, who deserves a father.”
I swallowed hard. I knew he was right.
But how the hell was I going to tell Nico the truth without ruining everything?
19
Nico – Sunday
Seeing my parents was always ... interesting, and I had a feeling that today wouldn’t be an exception to the rule. They owned a brownstone in Manhattan, just blocks from my condo and the office and because the weather was chill and crisp in the morning I decided to walk over instead of using my driver.
I stopped by a deli on the way over and picked up a few things: a couple of bottles of wine, some cheeses and cured meats, and a large bouquet of flowers for my mother. Ostensibly, she’d pretend to be surprised and delighted by the flowers.
But if I forgot them, she’d sulk and pout for the whole day.
I arrived at their house and knocked on the door, knowing better than to commit the sin of letting myself in. A maid in a cute black and white uniform opened the door and kept her eyes lowered to the floor.
“You must be new,” I teased. “They’re still making you wear the cap and everything?”
The maid looked up at me. A stiff white cap was mounted on her head and she flushed hotly, glaring at my face.
“Better not let them see you with your face like that,” I advised under my breath. “Unless you feel like losing your job.”
Her face transformed into a painful smile and I felt a touch of regret. I’d always enjoyed toying with my parents’ hired help – it was just too easy – but I was starting to pity them.
“Don’t worry,” I said in a low voice. “I won’t say anything.”
The girl’s tense face relaxed slightly and she dipped her chin at me.
“This way, sir,” she said.
It had been over a year since I’d visited my parents at their brownstone and as always, I was struck by the sheer opulence. Mother decorated as if Edith Wharton were still walking the streets of New York – Persian carpets so thick and luxe that my feet felt no trace of the parquet floors beneath. Silk brocade wallpaper. Lots and lots of shiny, dark wooden furniture that I could tell had been painstakingly polished before their arrival in the city.