Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
He’ll be there for me. I’ve never had a man say that to me, and for it to be Ethan Dalton blows my mind. He’d been bigger than life to me back in Hawaii. Now, he’s something different, something I can’t quite define, not yet.
“And him, Sofia. I’ll be there to put his mind at ease if he’s ready for me to get involved.”
My heart swells with his offer. “Yes. Please. You’re right. I’m stressed. I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to lie to him. I don’t want to see him hurt in this business deal. He’s lost too much to lose it, too.” I slip my small hand into his bigger one, his fingers readily closing around mine. “So yes, please. Come with me.”
He cups my face and kisses me soundly. “Let’s go, baby.” He laces the fingers of our hands together and opens the door, guiding me outside. And he holds onto me the entire way to the vehicle, helping me inside, his hand settling on my leg, warm with comfort, but there’s a possessiveness to this man’s touch that is forever addictive.
Paul asks for the address, and I call it out to him, but my mind is on my father. Now, even on a new and fresh basis, I know how it feels to have a partner by my side, facing challenges, living life. My father was with my mother for decades. They shared everything. They had little couple habits and favorite places and things they did together. They battled through the good and the bad as partners. And now, he faces everything alone.
The drive is short, walkable if you want to enjoy the tree-lined streets just beyond the shopping areas, but right now, I have no patience for the time it would take to make the hike. We turn onto Jackson Street, and memories of growing up here, of walking to the shops with my mother, and grabbing lunch in the process, overwhelm me. My hands settle on my belly, and I swallow hard. Ethan squeezes my leg. “You okay?” he asks softly.
I nod and find him watching me. “I grew up here,” I say. “Lots of memories, and for some reason, tonight they feel very fresh.”
“You’re worried about your father. I think it’s natural to think about her while trying to figure out how to protect him.”
I’m blown away by how well he reads me and the situation. “You really get it, don’t you?”
“I don’t know if I can say I fully get it. How can I? I was much younger than you when I lost my mother, but I get a lot of it, and I feel your struggles. Just remember, she’d want you to be happy. And she’d want him to thrive. What happened between me and him was business, and he didn’t give me the full picture. He can’t feel like this is about you, or he’ll be defensive, and his ego will get in the way. That’s human. Make it clear to him that I’m all in on this. I want to work with him.”
“I will. And I believe you. Hopefully that means I can get him to see that in you through me.” I glance up to see the house in view. “Stop here, please.”
Paul pulls the vehicle to a halt at the corner, and I turn to Ethan. “I’ll try to be fast.”
“Don’t be fast. Take your time. I spied the Starbucks at the corner. I’m going to get a coffee there and make a few business calls. Paul will stay here, and I’ll walk down there and stay as long as they let me.”
“It’s open late,” I say. “I wish you had your computer.”
“I really need to make some calls. I’m good.” He leans in and kisses me, a soft brush of his mouth over mine, his lips lingering a moment before he whispers, “Go make me a business deal.”
I laugh, nerves rumbling the depth of the breathy sound before I open the door and slip outside, the sun dipping low, the horizon gobbling up the orange and red hues. It’s getting late, and I have this sudden worry my father will have company. I mean, that would be good for him, but it would make my visit highly intrusive though still necessary. I charge forward and all but run, eager to get this over with.
One side of the street is lined with row houses that cost a pretty penny, while the opposite side, my father’s side, are equally pricey duplexes that mimic the look of single living homes. My parents were lucky and bought theirs so long ago now that not only is it paid off, they got it for nothing compared to the million and a half plus they go for in the present market. I wonder if my father has had to consider selling for cash flow, and the idea guts me. He needs stability. He needs his home. He needs success and happiness. I open the steel gate and enter the enclosed patio, only to have the security camera flicker to life with a bright light. By the time I’m at the door of the white brick structure, the door is open, and my father is standing in wait, his feet bare in a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt.