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)
“You make it sound like a calling,” Ryan says, a light taunt to her tone. “Like you’re doing it for the greater good.”
“Well, the greater good counts.”
“The greater good of your pockets.”
I love it when she’s in a feisty mood, when she’s all hot and . . . clever. I love her hair down, her scattered hair ties, and when she has her glasses on . . . ah-mazing! She can be my demanding boss anytime.
“Are you saying you work in finance for the love of it, not for the money?” I parry.
“I don’t know whether you’ve noticed, but I’m not working anywhere right now.” She half stands and reaches across the small table toward my whiskey glass. “Can I just . . . sniff it?”
“Sure.” I beat her to it, passing it over, relishing the brush of our fingertips like this is some Regency romance. One that’s not fade to black, please. “Any particular reason?”
She gives a short inhale. “Maybe a weird craving.”
“Did you have any of those? They happen earlier in the pregnancy, right?”
She nods. “Just for a few days. Pickles and ice cream. Together.” With one last sniff, she passes my glass back, sliding it back across the table.
“What do you think?”
“Smells like malt and wood.”
“Oak. From the barrels.”
“And something sweet.”
“But you don’t like the taste?”
“Ask me again. After.” Another tentative touch to her stomach as our gazes hold, and in the silence, I feel every beat of my heart. “So. Work.” Her gaze darts away. “Let me live vicariously.”
“Ah, you’ll be back at it soon enough.”
“I don’t know. Do you know many mothers in hedge funds?”
I open my hands: No idea. My only interest is the mother-to-be sitting in front of me.
The one I’d like to eventually call my wife-to-be.
“I loved my job, and I was fucking good at it. What are you smiling about?”
I sit forward, putting my elbow to the table as I rub my hand across my jaw. “Do you know when you curse or say something . . . bad, for want of a better word, you put your hands to your stomach? Like you’re covering Matt Junior’s ears.”
She frowns. “I don’t—do I?”
“It’s adorable.”
“You think? Maybe you’re just strange.”
“The word you’re looking for is enchanted.”
“Enchanted,” she repeats, sliding me a doubtful look.
“Like magic.”
She lowers her eyes, her lashes veiling her thoughts. But I hope she’s remembering a conversation about magic and spontaneity. And about disappearing body parts.
“You were saying?” I prompt. “About work?”
“Just that I’m looking forward to being a mother, but I just . . .” With a sigh, she lifts her shoulders and lets them fall. “I’m worried, I guess.”
“I think that’s entirely natural. I mean, I get moments of My God, what happens if I drop him on his head?”
“At least you’ve held a baby,” she mutters.
“I have, sure. But this is different, Ryan. Like I’ve said before, we’re in this together.”
“I know you say that. I know you think you mean it, but I’m the one having this baby,” she says, pressing her hands to her stomach again. “I’m the one whose body will bear the brunt. Whose brain will frazzle. Whose sleep and time will be taxed. I’ll be the one responsible for the bulk of the caretaking. The one whose career will suffer.”
Has suffered, I think with a frown.
“I can’t help you carry this baby or deliver it, and honestly, thank Christ for that. If it was left up to men, the world would come to an end. But the rest is on me as much as it is you.”
“The practicalities don’t work that way. I’m gonna need to go back to work sometime, and—”
“I’ll help.”
“Help what?”
“With the baby. When he’s here. And when you’re ready to go back to work.”
“Sure.” She looks a little frustrated.
“You don’t believe me?”
“I bet you usually work as many hours as I do. I know you’re as passionate about your job as I am. Was. Unless your contribution is a nanny?”
“If that’s what you want. I mean, yeah.” I give a shrug. “It’s not a bad idea as backup for when we’re both up to our necks. But that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m gonna be a hands-on dad, Ryan. That’s the plan. I mean, realistically, neither of us knows what we’re in for. But this is our baby, not just yours. Equal responsibilities. That’s what I hope for.”
“You’d really do that?”
Though I’m not sure she’s convinced, her expression hard to decipher right now.
“Why wouldn’t I? Especially when you’ll be looking after my money.”
“Your—what now?”
“I’ve decided to invest some money with you.”
“But I’m not working.” She shakes her head as though she can’t have heard right.
“But you miss it, yeah?”
“Of course. It’s all I’ve ever known.”
Well, that’s something. I have her intrigued. And that she hasn’t shot me down is a good sign.