With another parting kiss, he leaves, and I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face if I tried.
Maybe this is all going to work out okay.
My phone chimes from the kitchen, and I smile as I jog to check it, breathing a sigh of relief when I see that it’s Paige.
PAIGE: Any chance you’re free to meet for dinner tomorrow?
If that isn’t code for “we need to talk” then I don’t know what is.
KEELEY: Of course. Where were you thinking?
PAIGE: Second Chapter at seven?
KEELEY: I’ll be there
PAIGE: Thanks Keeley. I appreciate it
Sheappreciates it? I’m the one that should be grateful. As if I was going to say no. It’s time to tell her the truth. That I’m falling for her dad.
Chapter Forty
SALVATORE
My flight lands thirty minutes later than planned, so by the time I get to my apartment, it’s a little after nine p.m. in San Francisco.
I’m about to pour myself a glass of whiskey, guilt swirling around me for canceling on Paige and Isaac, when I remember Keeley’s request…and her subsequent reasoning.“You know I’m a mother type.”
To think I basically told Easton to get fucked when he questioned me about my future with Keels, and he wasn’t wrong to ask. Sheisa mother type. She cares for every one of those guys on the team, she looks after Isaac, and her eyes light up every time she sees him. I don’t want more kids. I couldn’t imagine chasing after a two-year-old in my fifties.
And on top of that, I can’t have them. Camilla made me have a vasectomy the second we had Marc. It should be a no-brainer to stay away from Keeley.
I’m not even great with my grandkid. I was supposed to be home for Paige to bring Isaac around today but I failed her again. I’m not cut out for this.
The problem is that when I imagine my fifties, Keeley’s there, by my side where she should be.Fuck. We should have talked about this before I left.
No, Ishouldn’t have left.
Since it’s late, I text Keeley instead of calling, massaging my temples before pouring my drink.
SALVATORE: I’m here safe.
My phone lights up before I’ve had the chance to open the bottle of Macallan, and when I read Keeley’s reply, I frown.
KEELEY: Where is ‘here’?
SALVATORE: New York.
I swear I told her where I was going.
My phone rings, and my heart jolts at the sight of Keeley’s name flashing back at me. I have so much to say, so many questions to ask, but I want to talk to her face-to-face.
If I wasn’t certain she’d say no, I’d send Jeffrey to pick her up and arrange for her to fly here. In fact, if I was able to think straight around her these days, I would have brought her with me.
“Keeley,” I answer, attempting to keep my tone light.
“You don’t send check-in messages that often, do you?”
I pause before answering, trying to recall the last time I told anyone I’d arrived somewhere safely. And it hits me.
