Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“For now,” she said. “I have a five year plan. In five years, I want to become an agent myself ... but I need to learn the ropes first.”
“I think you’ll do just fine here,” I said with a smirk. “Welcome to Ulrich Sports.”
The espresso and the routine of being back at work combined with the relief of having a competent assistant for the first time in years made my hangover fade quickly and by noon, I was feeling almost like myself again.
Kicking back in my chair, I dialed Harper.
“Hey, you,” she said, sounding almost like her old self. “What’s up?”
“I was thinking of swinging by after work,” I said. “Something about bringing a little girl a new toy ...”
Harper giggled and the sound warmed my heart.
“You really don’t have to do that, you know,” she said. “Ada’s already so spoiled – my dad and brother made sure of that when we were still living in Boston.”
“Well, that’s not fair,” I teased her. “I’ve missed out on years of potential spoiling.”
Harper laughed. “If you’re serious,” she said. “I’m sure she’d love it. We should be home around six-thirty, if you want to come over then – maybe I’ll make dinner?”
Imagining a happy domestic scene – Harper, Ada, and myself seated around a table with some kind of casserole, or whatever mom-food Harper had made – filled me with an intense happiness that previously, I never would have thought possible.
“That sounds nice,” I said.
Harper didn’t say anything – I pictured her gnawing at her lip.
“So, about quarter to seven, then?”
“Sure,” Harper said. “See you then.”
We hung up and I leaned back in my chair. A grin spread over my face.
How had I gone from Nico Ulrich, playboy billionaire to Nico Ulrich, family man almost overnight?
Well, it had taken one incredible woman.
And our adorable, perfect little girl.
Last traces of my hangover aside, I felt like the luckiest man in the world.
The rest of the day flew by. Being happy with my personal life meant that I could finally focus on work again and I was pretty satisfied with where I was by the end of the afternoon.
At a little past five, Amber knocked on my door.
“Just checking in,” she chirped. “You don’t have any early-morning meetings tomorrow, but you do have a call tomorrow afternoon with Andy Chafee.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“He plays for A&M,” Amber continued. “In Texas, remember?”
I nodded. “Of course, I do. He’s one of my most promising athletes.”
Amber nodded. “Yes, sir,” she said. She shot me a wolfish grin. “Just checking.”
I grinned back – Amber hadn’t even been on the job for more than twenty-four hours, and I was already quite fond of her.
“Anything else? I’m going to head out if that’s alright with you,” Amber said.
I shook my head. “Enjoy your afternoon,” I said. “See you tomorrow.”
After my assistant had left, I finished up the proposal I was working on and shut my laptop down. When I left the building, the sun was still shining in the sky and I caught myself whistling as I walked the several blocks to FAO Schwarz.
Sure enough, there was a gigantic stuffed rabbit in the window. The thing was bigger than I was, and I snickered as I pictured myself carrying a huge bunny down the sidewalk.
When I went inside and asked about it, the cashier’s eyebrows flew up.
“You can’t be serious,” she said. “That’s been there forever.”
“Well, my daughter really loves it,” I said. “And she’s just getting over bronchitis.”
The cashier gave me an odd look.
“And I’d like to buy it for her,” I said. I pulled out my Chase Sapphire card and plunked it down on the counter. “I also have cash,” I added.
The cashier swallowed. “Of course, sir,” she said, giving me a big fake smile I assumed was normally reserved for the holiday season. “Right away.”
Minutes later, I was carrying – rather awkwardly – the huge stuffed rabbit down the street. I realized that there was no way I could make it back to my office where my driver was waiting, so I hailed a cab.
The driver smirked at me.
“You piss off your wife?” He asked in a thick Brooklyn accent.
I shook my head. “Nope,” I said. “It’s a get-well present for my daughter.”
The cabbie smiled and I felt myself smile back. I don’t know how it had happened, but again I was keenly aware of the transformation I’d undergone in the last few days. Perhaps it had been building for a lot longer than that, but I really did feel like a new man.
The cabbie and I talked all the way from Manhattan to Brooklyn – something I never would have done before, it used to make me clench my jaw when drivers would try it – and by the time he dropped me off in front of Harper’s building, I was grinning like a madman. I rang the buzzer, then walked in and up the four flights of stairs to Harper’s small apartment.