Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
My stomach twists, and I creep out the door and head downstairs.
I want to bolt. Deacon and Willow’s life is so perfect, so complete, and here I am, impinging on bedtime and teaching him how to plait his daughter’s hair.
I’m so used to orbiting other people’s lives in Woolton, that I don’t even notice it anymore. Darcy and Logan and their children feel so embedded in my life, I can sometimes forget that they’re not my family. But here? I’m definitely not part of this family. I’m on the edge, looking at them through the window. I came to New York to be at the center of my own life, and it feels a little like I’m looking into someone else’s life.
As beautiful as Deacon’s life is, I want one for myself.
TWENTY-FOUR
Deacon
I’ve been attracted to Aurora since the moment I met her—or more accurately, spilled coffee over her, revealing the outline of her breasts in the most alluring way. But tonight? Tonight was different. The attraction has grown between us, but tonight was more than just attraction. The way she was with Willow. The way she patiently taught me how to plait my daughter’s hair. She seemed to fit right in with me and Willow as if she’d always been here.
For the first time since Gabby and I split, I saw the possibility of Willow and me being more than the two of us…that we might grow and expand to include someone else. As I watched her with my daughter, all I could think about was how happy I felt, how delighted Willow was chatting to Aurora, and how I wanted the moments to last forever.
It made me realize that Willow might want or need more than just me.
Maybe Gabby isn’t being selfish. Maybe she’s giving Willow more. More of what she needs.
“Is Aurora your girlfriend, Daddy?” Willow asks me sleepily, her eyes closed as I stroke her hair away from her face.
“She’s a girl, and she’s my friend,” I answer.
She sighs, teetering on the brink of sleep. “She’s nice.”
I smile. Half because I agree with my daughter’s assessment and half because Willow looks so adorable in this soporific, floppy stage, just before she drops off to sleep.
I slide off her bed, turn, and drop a kiss on her forehead. “You’re nice. Sweet dreams, Princess Willow,” I say copying Aurora’s term of endearment.
“Night, night, Daddy.”
I creep out of the room and my stomach lifts at the thought I’ll get to see Aurora in a few minutes. As much as I’ve loved seeing her with Willow, the fact that we get to be alone together sends a shiver of excitement down my spine.
Excitement. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt excitement to be with a woman.
Aurora is new territory for me in so many ways.
“Hey,” I say as I enter the kitchen. Lucia has cleared everything away and has let herself out. She leaves when everything is done and I’m upstairs with Willow.
“Is she asleep?” Aurora asks.
“I think she will be by now,” I reply.
“She’s lovely.”
I nod. “She is. I’m very lucky.” I pick up our wineglasses and gesture for Aurora to follow me. I head down the stairs into the basement.
“You’re a very good dad,” she says, as she follows me downstairs.
“I try,” I say.
We head into the room that’s set up as a TV room. But it’s a kid-free zone. It only gets used once Willow is in bed. And it’s also become the part of the house that’s just for me, along with my bedroom. Gabby and I have never had the conversation that this is my room exclusively, but it’s obvious she doesn’t come down here.
“She’s a very happy kid,” she says. “And I know you’re concerned that she’s not getting a conventional childhood, but you know, that means she’s going to be prepared for a lot when she’s older. This is how she builds resilience.”
I sigh and collapse on the huge peacock-green sofa.
“She has her dad read her a bedtime story four times a week. I bet not many kids can say that.”
I reach out a hand and Aurora takes it. I tug, urging her to sit down. “But a lot of kids can say their parents are still together.”
She sits next to me and puts her feet up on the coffee table in front of us, mirroring me. “Yeah, but a lot of kids can’t. And you and…Willow’s mother seem to have a great relationship.”
“Just because things could be worse, doesn’t mean they couldn’t be better.”
“Maybe the ivory tower you have imagined for Willow wouldn’t be so comfortable,” she says, shifting so she can look at me as she talks. “Maybe it’s lonely. Maybe it means she has less empathy for others when she grows. Maybe she wouldn’t have been able to know she can do difficult things if you make it too easy for her.”