Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
“Yay, pancakes!” she cheers. “T. rexes like pancakes, too. But not with blueberries. T. rexes are allergic to blueberries, and we don’t want to have to go to the hospital.”
“No, we don’t,” I agree, grinning as I wave to Hannah and head out the door. Ever since finding out we’re both allergic to nuts, Crissy has taken great delight in assigning random allergies to her toys and stuffed animals. It makes sense that dinosaurs have joined the list.
I’m about to whip out my cell to text Cam the news—I’ve been sharing some of Crissy’s antics with him, and he seems to genuinely get a kick out of hearing them—but when I glance up as I push through the lobby doors, my head goes thoughtless with fear.
For a split second, I would swear I see my ex across the street. It’s just a flash of dark red hair, cut in the same chunky layers as Phillip’s, but it’s enough to make my heart leap into my throat and throb there. Panic tightening my ribs, I cut to the left, sticking close to the side of my building as I search the crowd streaming in and out of the gourmet grocery on the other side of the street.
I usually love the fact that I live right across the street from the store—it’s a godsend on nights when I forget an ingredient for a recipe or need emergency ice cream therapy at ten o’clock—but right now I’m cursing myself for choosing such a busy block. There are so many people thronging the street, I can’t find the red-haired man again in the crowd.
I keep searching for several minutes, eyes darting back and forth, back and forth, like a mouse preparing to cross a field hunted by a family of murderous raptors. Finally, just as I’ve nearly convinced myself that I imagined the man, the redhead emerges from the market’s exit, wearing a baggy, vintage trench coat Phillip wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole, with a reusable canvas bag of groceries slung over her shoulder.
I sag against the bricks behind me, gulping air as my heart finally slides back into my chest.
The redhead isn’t Phillip. It’s not even a man. It’s a tall, gorgeous, supermodel type fetching some salad and lean protein for dinner, who means me and my daughter no harm.
Everything is fine.
Only…it’s not.
That one moment was enough to prove how quickly Phillip can still reduce me to a puddle of quivering terror. I’ve always prided myself on being a strong person, the kind who doesn’t give in to fear or intimidation. Even as a child, I wanted to climb the highest trees, ride my bike as far as my parents would let me, and make all my grandmother’s hardest recipes. I wasn’t afraid to fail or fall or get a little scratched up in the name of wringing the excitement and adventure out of life.
But Phillip changed all that. Maybe forever.
I thought I was healing, moving on, getting back to the woman I used to be. But maybe I’ll never be that person again, maybe I’m damaged goods and Phillip’s legacy will haunt me from this day to my last day, no matter how far I run or how many good things happen between now and then.
“Are you okay?” a deep voice asks from my left, making me jump and a startled bleat escape from my throat, despite the kindness in the man’s tone.
In Cam’s tone.
I know it’s him, even before I glance over to see his blue eyes filled with concern.
I swallow hard and force a smile. “Yeah, sorry. I’m fine. I just…” I flap a hand toward the market. “I thought I saw someone I knew.”
His brow furrows. “Someone you wish you didn’t know, I’m guessing?”
I huff out a thin laugh. “How did you guess?”
“I’ve never seen you that pale,” he says, glancing across the street. “So…it wasn’t who you thought it was?”
I shake my head. “No. It wasn’t. It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“Okay. But it’s okay if you’re not fine, too,” he says, giving my elbow a gentle squeeze through my coat. “I’m a good listener, if you ever want to talk about it.”
“Thanks.” I shove the panicked voices to the back of my brain, where they belong, and force a brighter smile. “But I don’t. I just want to enjoy the night and your company and maybe drink a little too much champagne.”
His lips curve, but his gaze is still sober as he says, “Sounds good. But if you change your mind about talking or just need someone to have your back, you can call me any time. Even if the dating thing doesn’t work out, okay? I think of you as a friend, as well as my boss, and I don’t want any friend of mine to face someone who scares them alone.”