Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 92368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I hadn’t known her last name. Nina was simply the captivating free spirit of a woman I met one night in Rome way back when. I was thirty-two, traveling for business. I met her in a piazza, and we spent one glorious night together. I knew very little about her except that she was an American working in Europe as a wedding and boudoir photographer, but she’d impulsively taken the weekend off to go to Rome with friends. By the end of the evening, she’d been in my hotel room.
In the morning, she was gone, catching her flight to Amsterdam where she had work for the week.
One hot night. Only first names. Nothing more.
Except, it wasn’t just that.
As I learned from Candace, Nina wound up pregnant. She tried to find me, but not very hard, they said. With only a first name, she had no success, though she knew I worked in venture capital and lived in New York. But the free spirit in her believed everything was meant to be, that she was destined to be a single mother. Her parents believed otherwise, and when Nina died of a brain aneurysm when Zach was five, they became his guardians and took on the mission of tracking me down, eventually finding a news article online about a deal my company had inked in Rome right around the time when I’d have met Nina.
“We want him to know his father,” Candace said simply.
The skeptical part of me figured they wanted his father’s money too. That since they knew who I was, they’d want a payoff.
But they never asked. They wanted Zach to know his father and to be raised by him in tandem with them. One paternity test later, and I was sharing custody with the retired bankers in Connecticut.
Life is weird. I’m forty and a new dad to a seven-year-old. This is everything I’d wanted during my marriage—and it came after.
Zach tosses me a noodle and issues an order. “Chase me on my seahorse. Both of you,” he says.
Well, then.
Nick and I comply, motoring after him until Nick’s fiancée strides into the pool area. Nick pops off and swims to the edge of the pool. He parks his elbows on it, a stupidly swoony look on his face—which is how he looks every time he sees Layla. “You off to the store?” he asks her.
“I have a quick sesh,” she says, then gives him a playful pout. She runs several makeup shops and does in-store makeup tutorials. “Then, it’s poker night.”
“Be sure to win big, sweetheart. Come home with the whole pot,” he says to her.
“I’ll take my girls for everything.”
Nick wags a finger. “And don’t let Jules beat you this time.”
She heaves a sigh. “Hey! It’s not my fault. She has the best poker face in the group.”
“No, you do, beautiful. You do.”
With his pep talk done, she stands and waves to me. “Have fun swimming,” she calls out.
“Good luck with the card sharking,” I say. “And taking your friends’ money.”
“I’ll do my best,” she says, then leaves. When I spin around, Nick’s back on a noodle, paddling toward Zach.
Ah, hell.
I can’t resist.
I catch up to him quickly, then mouth to Zach, watch this.
I drop my hand on Nick’s head and dunk my little brother—younger by a year. Zach cracks up, and the sound is wholly gratifying.
When Nick resurfaces, he narrows his eyes. “You’ll pay for that.”
“Still worth it.” I horse around with my kid and my brother, focusing on family and not on after-dark fêtes that take my mind off all the things I haven’t had these last few years.
All the things I’ve missed.
When we return to his penthouse an hour later, my clothes are missing.
Fucking little brothers.
Well, this swimsuit is dry enough. I call a Lyft and head home with Zach, wearing only my swim trunks.
Zach laughs the whole way.
5
ALMOST PERFECT
Jules
Things my dad taught me—be direct when you want something.
Things my mom taught me—lubricate a request with a gift.
I go with Mom’s guidance when it comes to asking Scarlett if I can fill in for her in another two weeks.
After I finish my Krav Maga class on Sunday afternoon, I pop into a candle shop in my Chelsea neighborhood to snag a gift, then I head home to take a quick shower. Under the stream, I rehearse what to say when I stop by Scarlett’s bar in a bit. I hate walking into situations unprepared.
What if I’m tempted to shout I sucked a guy’s cock in the library the other night and I want to do it again? What if I go on and blurt out every single personal detail about my encounter in front of all her customers? What if I reveal all my dirty dreams to…ugh…everyone?