Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Oh no. Please. You are absolutely free to eat babies all you want.”
He chuckles, and I close my eyes tight before opening them again. “Yeah, you know what I mean.” I try to explain the strange words that just came out of my mouth. “Cow babies. Or, like, chicken babies or something. I don’t suggest you eat human babies, no matter who your date is.”
Now would be a good time to stop talking.
“I guess I should make a note of that for our next date,” he jokes, and my laugh is completely awkward as I silently wonder why in the hell this guy keeps wanting to go on more dates with me. I am so out of my realm here, it’s not even funny. I suck at dinner conversation and flirting and haven’t ever been in the same dimension as the word seductive.
I am a dating disaster. And yet, he keeps coming back for more.
Either this guy is a masochist, or he’s got a rich bet going that he can make me fall in love with him so he lands the big DeLauer Diamonds account.
And yes, I am referencing How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days in my everyday life situations. What else is a single woman over forty supposed to do?
“What?” he questions, searching my eyes for an explanation. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, not at all. I’m just thinking that you should probably wait for this date to end before you decide if you want another,” I tease. “I mean, our first date didn’t exactly go swimmingly. What if this one also ends in disaster? Shouldn’t you take some kind of precaution to protect yourself?”
“Sammy, you’re incredibly beautiful and funny and kind. You’re everything I look for in a woman.” Gavin gently squeezes my hand from across the table. “Trust me, I don’t need this date to be over to know that I want another one.”
When he says it like that, I have to wonder if I’d be crazy to turn down another date.
Gavin is handsome and successful and charming—he’s all the things a woman hopes to see in a potential partner. And he sees the same in me?
I start to open my mouth to commit, to rip off the Band-Aid and put myself out there and go for the gold, but the shrill sound of my phone ringing from inside my purse stops me in my tracks before the first syllable can leave my lips.
“Shoot. Sorry,” I apologize, digging for it desperately to shut it off. “I thought I put it on silent.”
When my fingers finally make contact, I pull it out and scramble for the volume button, but with Zoe’s name flashing on the screen, panic over the noise I’m making quickly switches to an entirely different kind of anxiety altogether.
Zoe never calls me when I’m out unless it’s important.
“It’s my nanny,” I explain in a rush, and I don’t wait to see his response before I hit accept.
“Hey, Zoe,” I whisper into the receiver, even cupping my hand around my mouth and the bottom of the phone so as not to interrupt the other guests around us. “Everything okay?”
“Uh…well…not exactly,” she says, and her voice has an edge that makes my heart stop for what feels like a good five seconds. “We’re in an ambulance right now—”
“I’m sorry, what?” My voice rises with each word. “Did you say ambulance?”
“I’m so sorry, Sammy!” she bellows, and I can hear tears in her voice. “I let Grant and Seth play at the small playground by your place after dinner, and Grant fell off the swing and I’m pretty sure he broke his arm.”
“What do you mean, you’re pretty sure?”
At this point, I can actually hear Grant crying in the background. I can also hear Seth’s nervous chatter as he rambles off a million questions.
“Well…a small part of the bone is…sort of…” she drops her voice to a whisper “…not under the skin.”
“Oh, holy shit!” I exclaim, hopping up from my chair and tossing my napkin onto the table. “What hospital?”
“St. Luke’s,” Zoe says, and I quickly end the call with an, “I’m on my way.”
“I’m so sorry, but I have to go,” I tell Gavin as I grab my purse and throw it over my shoulder.
He’s already on his feet. “What’s wrong?”
“Grant. He’s been in an accident and is being taken to St. Luke’s Hospital.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“No, you don’t have to—”
“Sammy, I’ll go with you,” he says and tosses a wad of cash onto the table. “St. Luke’s is quite the trek from Lower Manhattan. We can take my car to save time. It’s in a garage half a block from here.”
His arm is at my lower back, and he’s guiding me out of the restaurant before I can even question him. And I don’t think twice about it because the only thing on my mind right now is getting to my kid.