Total pages in book: 224
Estimated words: 215705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1079(@200wpm)___ 863(@250wpm)___ 719(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1079(@200wpm)___ 863(@250wpm)___ 719(@300wpm)
It’s a long time later when we fall asleep, with him wrapped around me, holding me perhaps a little too tight and yet not tight enough. I sleep because he holds me, because he’s driven away everything but that need. I wake to sunlight and the sound of Reid on the phone in the other room. I’m instantly awake, worried something is wrong, but as I reach the bedroom door, I hear. “Yes. Coffee. Fruit. Hard boiled eggs.”
I step to the doorway as he disconnects the line to find him looking hot and hard in a pair of pajama bottoms and nothing else. My future husband has a perfect, rock hard body. “I woke you up,” he says, walking all that hotness my direction.
“Is anything wrong?” I ask as he stops in front of me.
“Nothing new,” he says, dragging me to him and kissing my temple. “Grayson called to check in and that woke me up. We have a couple hours until the meeting. I was thinking about grabbing a workout. You want to come?”
“Actually, I need to do some work before we head out. You go on without me. I’ll work off my French fries tonight.”
“I’ll work them off for you,” he promises. “I’ll be fast and back within an hour.”
“You know where we’re going?”
“I do,” he says. “I actually went to an event there years ago. And on another note, I ordered coffee and food that wouldn’t get cold. Room service will be here soon, if you can grab the door.”
"Of course," I say. "Coffee is involved. I'm all in. Thanks for ordering."
A few minutes later, he’s headed out to the gym and I have the coffee he ordered shortly after. I settle onto the couch and dial my father, forced to leave another message. I repeat my attempt at contact with my brother and fail. Out of verbal options, I open my computer and decide to type my father an email, and once I start writing, the words pour from a deep, heartfelt part of me:
Father—
You have always been my hero, but even a hero is human. I understand that you and Reid’s father have bad blood. I even understand that you have real reason to hate his father. You loved mom, even if she didn’t deserve your love. But I love Reid and he does deserve my love. He’s not his father. He’s a brother, a son to a mother he lost, who he loved so very much. A son who wishes he’d loved more and done more. A man with emotions and feelings and a good heart. Yes, he can be brutal and hard, but rest assured that he is those things in business, but with integrity. He is those things to protect those he loves. He would, he will, protect me, and isn’t that what every father wants for his daughter? A loving protector? I don’t know how to even explain the depth of which this man has affected my life personally and professionally. He doesn’t go easy on me. He pushes me hard. He has made me a better CEO of the company you created. He’s made me better for you and me. I’d like to think that I’ve made him better, too, in ways that are between him and me, but we make each other better. I hope that you have found that in Montana. I want you to be happy. I want to share your happiness. I want you to share mine. I need my father.
I don’t care what you’ve done. I don’t see failures. I just see a father who taught me to work hard and dream big. I see a father I love. If you love me, I beg you to find a way to make peace. I beg you to see Reid for Reid, for the man I love. I beg you to please, be happy for me, because dad, he makes me happy. He is one of my two best friends. You are the other.
Please.
Love,
Carrie
I don’t read what I’ve typed. I hit send and then I dial my father. Of course, voicemail picks up. “Dad, I sent you an email. Please read it. I love you. I don’t want to fight with you.” My eyes prickle as I disconnect and head to the shower.
Thirty minutes later, I’m in a silk robe and I’ve just finished drying my hair when the sound of the hotel room door opening reaches my ears. I grab my phone and hurry to greet Reid. I’ve just stepped into the doorway between the bedroom and the living area and brought him into view when my phone rings. I stop dead in my tracks, glance down and eye the caller ID and then Reid before I answer, “Dad.”
Reid's expression hardens, concern in his eyes as my father says, “I read your email.” His voice actually cracks and I'm relieved that he has an emotional reaction. This shows humanity and I've feared he lost his.