Page 58 of Tempted By the Bosshole

“You’re forty-four. Did you want more kids?”

“I was on the fence. I went along with the plan because I love her and I wanted her to be happy. But once the doctor gave us the news…it felt like a killing blow. I’m not ashamed to say we went home and cried.”

They both made terrible decisions in life, but that doesn’t negate the empathy I feel. “I’m sorry.”

“I am, too. Now what, kiddo?”

Isn’t that the million-dollar question? “I don’t know.

“Can we keep talking and working this out?”

Eventually. Right now… “I need to be alone for a while.”

“And Nate?”

“That goes for him, too.”

Dad frowns. “How do you feel about him?”

“This morning I would have told you I was in love with him. Now I feel bulldozed and numb.”

“You need rest. You’re welcome to come stay with Julia and me. We?—”

“No.” The last thing I need now is to be with the two people who fueled Nathan’s need for vengeance. “Thank you, but I think some solitude would be best.”

My father nods. “If it’s any consolation, when Nate drove away, he looked as if he was leaving his heart at your feet. He may have pursued you for revenge, but I don’t think payback was top of mind anymore.”

“Are you advocating for him?”

“No, but I can admit that you’re not seeing him at his best, and I’m at least partially to blame. Maybe now that this revenge business is behind you two, you’ll get to talk this out with the real Nathan Price. Then you can decide what’s best for you. I’ll support you either way.”

“I wasted six years on a man who wanted me for reasons other than love. I won’t put up with another. We’ll talk, but if I’m not enough for Nathan, then it’s time to move on.”

Even if I have to do it alone.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Nathan

Just before sunrise, I let myself in the house, juggling coffee and donuts, and praying like hell that Isabella is still here.

The minute I step inside, I know she’s gone. I can’t smell her. I can’t feel her.

Fuck. I have no idea where she spent the night or if she’s coming back. And it’s killing me.

Cursing, I set everything on the dining room table, plop into the nearest chair, and wonder where she’s gone. Even if she left the city—hell, the country—I’m not giving up on her. On us. She’s the woman I want to spend my forever with.

How do I convince her of that?

I pour myself a steaming mug and glance around my house. I bought it cheap after my divorce. Crappy place in a good neighborhood. I fixed it up, and I’ve loved living here. It’s been quiet, peaceful. A modern promise on a fresh start.

Now when I look around all I see is Isabella. I’ve gotten used to her living with me. To seeing her brush her teeth at my sink, to watching her bop to a silly pop song while she cooks, to cuddling her on the sofa with a blanket and a smile.

My sanctuary feels horribly empty now. Hell, I feel empty.

How did I fuck this up so badly? I should have changed course when I realized I was in love with her.

Suddenly, I hear the clinking of the lock. In the silence, the jingling and rustling sounds magnified. Then the door whooshes open.

---