Page 52 of Manhattan Kiss

“Never,” I answer quickly. “But then again, I’m not often in relationships. When I lived with Gabby, there was no one else until we split.” Her gaze flits from my mouth back up to my eyes. “What about you?”

“But you’re not finished,” she says. “You’re just focused. There’s more to you than that.”

“I want to hear about you too. Let’s take turns.”

She sighs and her eyes trail away from mine as she thinks about her answer. “I’m hard working,” she says. “I never got anything for free, and that’s fine.”

“Is it fine?”

“It is. Because we’re all dealt a different hand. And also, when you see people who you think had things easy, it’s often not the case.”

If I didn’t like her before, I do now. She has a refreshing take on the world. She’s insightful.

“Your turn,” she says.

“I’m a father,” I reply. Maybe I should have started that way. “Sometimes I don’t feel like the best father, but Willow’s my daughter, no matter what kind of father I am. I can’t quit—not that I want to. I have to push through and keep getting better. It’s made me a better man. A better businessman. Being a father is the most important thing in my life.”

We’ve finished our starters and the waitstaff clear our plates.

She narrows her eyes as everything’s removed from in front of us. When we’re alone again, she asks, “Why do you think you’re not the best father?”

I pull in a breath. “It’s just as I said before. I should have been able to give her a white picket fence, a mum, dad, two kids, and a dog. And I haven’t managed that with Willow.”

“And you think she’s worse off because of that?”

I pull my eyebrows together in confusion. “Of course. You don’t?”

“Not necessarily,” she replies, then she pushes her chair out and stands. She reaches out her left hand. “Let’s go and admire the view before the entrees. That’s what they call the main course, right?”

I nod, stand, and take her hand. She feels warm and safe and like someone I’ve known my entire life.

When we get to the wall, at the edge of the terrace, she turns to me. “I had the kind of family life that you were describing. My mum and dad have lived in the same house since I was born. My parents are still happily married. My mum was a part-time librarian and full-time mother and housekeeper.”

“Were you unhappy?” I ask.

“Not at all.”

Exactly, I think. That’s what I want for Willow.

“But sometimes I wished for more. I’m lucky, my best friend lives in the same village as my parents and we’ve been friends since forever. I work just on the outskirts of the village. Everyone knows everyone where I live, and I swear, I could knock on any house and they’d take me in.”

“Sounds idyllic.”

“It’s very safe,” she says.

I can sense the but in her tone.

“Safe is good,” I say. “The number one thing I want for Willow is her safety.”

“But you want her happiness too, right? Sometimes I think if life had been a bit more…more—” She stops herself. “I don’t know how to put it. All I know is that I’m thirty-six years old, and coming to Manhattan is my first…adventure. I wish I’d stepped out of that safe world a bit sooner.” Her hand sweeps down the lapel of my jacket, her gaze full of regret. “I’m really enjoying New York and it makes me sad that I didn’t do something like this sooner.”

I want to scoop her up and make it all better for her immediately. But I wouldn’t know where to start.

“You’re saying safe isn’t always good?” I capture her hand as it falls from my torso and thread my fingers through hers. I’m completely mesmerized by what she’s saying.

“I mean, if you’re in a war zone, of course safe is always good. But if you’re living your life, safe isn’t always what you should be shooting for. You’re obviously successful. You must know that.”

She’s making perfect sense…and it’s the first time I’ve ever even contemplated that safe might have negative connotations.