Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
Sheryl’s not in the kitchen when I stop in for an apple, either. That’s when I remember her talking about getting some Christmas shopping done this afternoon. I head down the hall toward Dad‘s office, crunching the juicy apple. “Dad? Where’s —”
Okay, now I’m starting to wonder if everything’s alright. I could count on one hand the number of times I’ve walked in here in the middle of the day and found the office empty. What if something happened to Bianca and the baby when I wasn’t here? My heart is lodged in my throat, and I could kick myself for not thinking of that sooner.
Not many things could get me to rush into Romero’s office. Not right now. Not with everything still so weird between us. Right now, though, I’m too worried to care. I’ve barely knocked on the open door before blurting out, “Where is everybody?? Are they —”
He looks up from the document he’s reading and shakes his head. “Take a breath. Everything’s fine. They went out for lunch and shopping with Bianca’s dad.”
I lean against the door frame and close my eyes. “Thank God. I thought she was sick or something.”
“No, just spending the afternoon with the two of them. Who knows? She might end up wishing she was sick by the time it’s all said and done.”
I don’t appreciate the snark in his voice, but I see where he’s coming from. It’s sort of a miracle that my dad and hers can be bothered to spend time in the same room after all their years of basically working against each other. Charlie Cole made it his life’s mission to put Dad behind bars back during his detective days, and Dad always found a way to slip through his fingers. He was not happy when he found out his daughter fell in love with a criminal.
But they’re doing their best to get along for her sake, and for the baby.
“What are you doing?” I ask, since now that we’re in the same room, I can’t help but look for reasons to bug him. It means an excuse to be with him, and I’m pitiful enough to want that. I want it so much I’ll make a fool of myself to get it.
He makes a point of looking down at his work, then back at me. “Earning a living. What does it look like?”
“Oh, my God. Can you try to act like a human being for two seconds? I was only asking. You don’t have to get all insulted and bitchy.”
“Last I checked, you barged in here and practically shrieked when I was in the middle of something.” He leans back in his chair, studying me. “So, how was your session?”
“It was fine.”
“You’re actually getting along with this doctor?”
“You know what, I’m out. I swear, just when I think you might be human, you have to act like an asshole.”
“Hey. Hey!” he barks when I start down the hall. “Come back.”
“Why? So I can be insulted?”
“Okay, fine. No insults.”
Insults aside, I can’t ignore how my pulse flutters like my stomach did earlier. It’s excitement, maybe anticipation. Of what? That’s a dumb question. I know exactly what my stupid body thinks is going to happen. It doesn’t help that he looks hotter than sin in his typical work clothes: charcoal slacks and a light blue button-down shirt that matches his eyes. The sleeves are rolled up almost to his elbows — what is it about the side of a pair of strong forearms that makes me weak?
These are Romero’s forearms. I have to remember the man they’re attached to.
“Actually,” I mutter, folding my arms and trying to ignore his, “I wanted to bounce an idea off Bianca. It’s something the therapist got me thinking about.”
His brows lift. “What’s on your mind?”
“She wanted me to think about ways to help other people. If I could turn what happened to me into a good thing for others, it would lose its power. I forget her exact words.”
“That’s a fairly typical approach.” Like he’s an expert.
“So I’ve been thinking, maybe there’s a way to help women who have gone through the same kind of thing I did. Or…” Shit. I should’ve stopped while I was ahead.
“Or? What were you going to say?”
“It’s not important.”
“Bullshit.”
I gesture in his direction with one hand, feeling feeble and stupid. “More like your mom. Women who need to get on their feet after they’ve experienced trouble.”
He doesn’t flinch. “Like a shelter?”
“More than that. I don’t know.” I shake my head and flutter my hands around. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not even an idea, really. I haven’t given it very much thought.”
“Calm down. I was only asking because I was curious.”
“Well, I was thinking more like a whole program. Not just a place to stay, but somewhere with resources.” The more I talk about it, the more excited I get. Now that he looks interested, I can move deeper into the room and perch on the corner of his desk. “Like, for instance, I read one time about financial abuse. A husband or a partner locks down the bank accounts and only lets a woman have a small allowance. That kind of thing. Even if a woman manages to make it out of something like that, she could be financially illiterate. So, maybe some classes on financial literacy. Job search resources. Job skills classes. Maybe daycare for when Mom starts a job.”