Page 124 of Manhattan Kiss

Nausea stirs in my stomach, and I wonder if I’m going to throw up right here, at work, in front of my two bosses.

I think I may have loved Deacon. I think I might still love him. And I think I might love him forever. I take a breath, trying to process the realization.

I know now that Deacon Black is the love of my life.

But me loving him isn’t enough.

I met the love of my life, but he can never be mine. Not even if he’s decided there’s room in his life for me.

How’s that fair?

He and Willow need a woman who can give them a family. I’m never going to be a woman who can give Deacon a child. He might not see that as an unsurmountable challenge now, but he will. At some point. And so it’s better to move on. Move past the idea that I can have the kind of idyllic family life I always dreamed about.

That dream is dead.

Now I’m embarking on a different dream. One where I’m in New York City, working for fantastic women in a growing business full of people who are hopeful about the future.

That’s what I have to focus on. Deacon Black needs to understand that there’s no point in talking. We all need to get on with our lives.

I pull out my phone and type out two words. “I can’t.” The blood races around my veins like it’s trying to get out, and my hands are shaking, but I take a breath.

I hate my body and what it can’t do. I hate the fact that Deacon wants to protect Willow so badly because of his own pain.

I hate everything.

I press send.

It’s done.

It’s over.

“I’m going to go home,” I say. I don’t wait to hear their response. I just leave.

FORTY-TWO

Deacon

On reflection, a text message and flowers probably wasn’t the best way to tell the woman who you want to spend the rest of your life with that you’re sorry.

I’m new to this stuff. I’ve had to fight in business. But I’ve never had to fight for a woman before. I’ve never wanted to.

I figure flowers are a start, so I arrange deliveries to the hotel every day. I check the calendar, and I’m sure I only have a week left of Aurora being in New York. A week to convince her to give me another chance—to give us another chance. And then I just have to ask her not to move continents. It’s an uphill battle I have on my hands, and I’m not quite sure how I’m going to do it, but I’m not going to stop until I win her back.

She needs to know that she’s all I think about. She’s pretty much all my daughter talks about. She needs to know how deeply I feel. How I want us to create a family and a life together. Forever.

I just need to figure out how to show her that I’m not going to hurt her again.

My first priority is to see her in person.

Which is why I’m booked into Hotel on Ninth Street tonight.

I enter the lobby and see arrangements of ranunculus everywhere I look. Seems like Aurora isn’t taking them back to her apartment. I take comfort in the fact they’re not in the trash either.

I scan the lobby, but there’s no sign of Aurora. I step up to the reception desk.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Black,” the receptionist says. “I didn’t realize you were staying with us tonight.”

Probably because I had my assistant make the booking under her name. “It might be under the name of Adams.”