Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 22067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 110(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 110(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Adriano's shoulders relax slightly. "Thank you."
"How have you been?" I ask, keeping my tone light. "We haven't seen you since the charity auction."
"The usual."
"And Shayla? We haven't had any contact with her since that evening either. She actually slept over in our place that night. Did you know?"
His jaw clenches. "Is that so?"
It's clear he doesn't believe me, and I completely understand, having learned a bit of his background from Shayla.
"Do you still have that photo of us three?" I ask Colin brightly.
My husband grimaces. "Unfortunately...yes." He takes his phone out and shows Adriano the photo of the three of us wearing animal-themed sheet masks just before heading to bed. More importantly, the photo comes with a date stamp, and seeing this has Adriano noticeably stiffening.
Mm.
Shayla wouldn't tell me why Adriano had fired her. But now I'm starting to realize that it's possible for Shayla not to know the real reason as well.
I look at Adriano with a sheepish smile. "I hope she didn't arrive late at work the next day. It was just complete chaos that time. I had a bit of a false alarm with my pregnancy. Colin had to drive me to the hospital. We wanted to call a cab for Hope, but that's when our neighbor so very kindly offered her a ride."
"I believe you're acquainted with him," Colin murmurs. "Gilbert Schitt, the prosecutor?"
Adriano's face is starting to lose color, which I personally think is a good sign. Or at least I hope it is.
"He was on his way to the vet with Chip, his five-year-old Rottweiler," I go on to share. "The clinic's just a block away from your building."
"Chip is not what you'd call friendly, though." Colin's voice is so perfectly casual. I love it, and I love him. "He barks all the time and at everyone," my husband adds dryly, "and Gilbert tells us Shayla was not an exception."
"Poor Shayla," I say with a cluck of my tongue. "She really thought she could have Chip eating from the palm of her hand—" I snap my fingers, and both Colin and I notice the way Adriano jerks at the words. "—just like that."
Adriano looks like he might be sick, and my heart aches for him...and Shayla.
"I need to go." His voice is uneven. "Please excuse me."
Colin and I watch him walk away. I want to think this will mean they'll finally find their way back into each other's arms, but...what if Shayla's the one who's unable to forgive him?
I look up at my husband, asking, "What do you think will happen now?"
"I know what you want to happen," Colin says quietly, "and it's what I want, too. We've also done what we could. We've planted the seeds. But only God decides whether those seeds grow."
I just have to throw my arms around him again, and Colin chuckles even as he presses a kiss to the top of my head.
"I love you." My voice is muffled against the hard wall of his chest.
"I love you, too."
"I'm so, so glad you emailed me to be your bride."
"I didn't want to."
I pull away with a laugh, not at all offended because it's the truth.
"But..." Eyes that are the color of molten chocolate gleam down at me. "It's like what you love to say these days."
"Reformed rakes make the best husbands?" I quip with a teasing smile.
Colin smiles even as he answers gravely, "God works in mysterious ways."
My heart melts, and when I tell him so, my husband only laughs.
Chapter Thirteen
ADRIANO
DELLBROOK, NEW JERSEY looks like it was left behind by time and economics decades ago. Boarded storefronts line the main street. Faded awnings hang over dusty windows. Cars from the previous century rust in driveways. The air smells of factory exhaust and defeat. It's a place that no one in his right mind would choose to live...and that makes Dellbrook also the perfect town to hide.
It took three private investigators and a small fortune to find Shayla here, of all places. Fifty miles and a universe away from Manhattan's glass towers and marble lobbies.
I lean against my Maserati—painfully conspicuous on this rundown street—and stare at the shabby building across from me. Peeling paint. Cracked windows. A hand-painted sign that reads "Dellbrook Community Legal Aid."
I'm going to rescue her from this dump. Bring her back to where she belongs. To me.
The door to the center opens, and people begin trickling out. I straighten, scanning faces, and then—
There she is.
Shayla emerges into the afternoon sunlight, surrounded by a small group of people. An elderly couple. A young mother with a toddler. A man in a worn uniform.
She's talking animatedly, hands gesturing as she explains something. And then she laughs, head thrown back, sunlight catching in her hair.
I've never seen her more beautiful. More peaceful. More...herself.
And that's when I realize I had it all wrong.