Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 122382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 612(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 612(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
“I want to be part of this.”
“But I’m going back to the States. Monday.”
Something like panic bolts through me.
“Though I get the impression Theta would’ve preferred to get me on a flight before then.”
“Can they do that?”
“I agreed to it. Signed the paperwork and everything. I guess I wasn’t processing information too well. Maybe because I spent more time than I care to remember curled over a toilet bowl this morning. Then I was called into the office and blindsided. But I don’t really have any choice. My visa is dependent on my employment, and I’m living in accommodations on the company dime. I’d just signed a lease on a new apartment, and they said they’d cover any penalties.”
“I should fucking think so.”
“They’re also paying me to the end of my probation period. It seemed like there was little point fighting it.”
“It sounds to me like they’re trying to get rid of you with undue haste.”
“It doesn’t matter, not in the bigger picture. Women who have babies, kids, they don’t thrive on the trading floor. Each requires too much commitment. Can’t be in two places at once.”
“But it should be your choice, not theirs. This is wrong, Ryan. Don’t stand for it.” Because I fucking well won’t.
She drops her head quite suddenly, beginning to gulp in air.
“Ah, darlin’.” She doesn’t flinch when I put my hand to her back.
“This is all so, so fucked up.” She begins to cry, quiet hiccuping sobs, and my heart twists as I pull her in to my chest. “I’m sorry for the waterworks,” she says, her words all snuffling and wet. “I’m usually more . . .”
I crook her chin and dip my own, bringing my gaze level with hers. “Aloof?”
“Stoic.”
“Tears are just a valve, you know.” I use my thumb to swipe one from her cheek, amazed when she lets me. “They aren’t a weakness. Everyone needs to let off steam sometime.”
“I’ve gotta be all out of steam by now. This morning, after you left, I was so upset. I didn’t know if I should tell you or not. Would you blame me? Think I was after money?”
“There now,” I croon as her words echo in my chest. “It’s gonna be okay.”
“I didn’t know what to think, what you’d think. I couldn’t use the elevator in the state I was in, so I took the steps and, halfway up, dropped to one like I was winded.”
Something squeezes my heart. To think that under that cool exterior was all this worry and pain.
“I pressed my head between my knees,” she says, lifting her watery eyes to mine, “and sobbed and sobbed as the cold from the concrete penetrated my pants, freezing my ass.”
“That’s how you get piles.”
“What?”
That ache turns to a pinch as Ryan pulls away, all red nosed and flushed. I just want to pull her back. Keep her there. “It’s what my granny used to say if she’d catch us sitting on cold pavement or a wall. ‘You’ll get piles!’” What the fuck am I saying? I guess it’s better than I know something else that’d like to penetrate your ass.
“I’ll . . . bear that in mind,” she says, her words creeping higher in pitch.
“Although you might get them now anyway.” Ah, Jaysus. Move over, Casanova.
“What the hell, Matt!” This comes out in a shocked but watery laugh.
“I know. What the fuck.”
“More like, How would you know?”
“Because sadly, my family doesn’t believe in boundaries.” My expression twists. “You can blame my sister, Leticia, for oversharing. That’s Clodagh’s mother.”
“Well, it’s something to look forward to, I guess.” Her brows pinch with consternation.
“I reckon Letty is a bigger pain in the arse than hemorrhoids,” I mutter.
“What will they think about this?” Her eyes flick warily my way. “About you becoming a dad.”
There’s something about that word that tugs at a place deep inside me. “A dad. I’m about to become a dad.” I slide my hand through my hair. “How fucking amazing is that?”
“I guess it won’t matter what they think,” she says softly as she presses her hand to my chest. Over my heart. “We’re really doing this?”
“Yeah,” I say, covering her hand with mine. “We really are.”
Chapter 19
Ryan
I can’t believe I’m doing this—that we’re doing this.
That he wants to be part of this.
“Ryan Hoffman?” The doctor looks up from an iPad, and holy hell! I am shook—the doctor is such a hottie! His white shirt strains against broad shoulders, his face the kind of handsomeness that’s rugged and a touch lived in, while his dark hair has a little salt and pepper around the temples. He quirks a brow, and I begin to wonder if I have crumbs on my face. I just ate crackers. With jam. The sweet-salty combination was just . . .
I realize I’m just standing here. Like a dummy.