Page 75 of The Single Dad

I tilt my head. “But you just said it stresses you out.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “And it does. But the thing is, this kind of work—if it doesn’t stress you out, it means you aren’t giving it your all.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are plenty of people in investments who are content to coast through their careers. They let the world slide by them, and the end result is that they never… climb. They tread water for their entire lives.”

“And that’s not you,” I say automatically. It isn’t really a question. I’ve noticed Cole’s drive in everything he does, whether he’s working on a Saturday or plugging away at the morning newspaper’s Sudoku problem.

He smiles, glancing at me out of the corner of half-lidded eyes. “I wouldn’t say so, no.”

“If the stress is necessary, it sounds like the relaxation is, too,” I tease. “You have to find release somewhere, right?”

“Oh, definitely.” He stretches, his forearm brushing against my bare back. I shiver, moving closer to him. “We all do, if we’re the kind of people who strive for something.”

His words sink into my mind, and I turn them over slowly.

He’s right, I think. We all need some form of release.

I’m just starting to wonder if the physical release is enough, or if there’s more I’m looking for. More we’re both looking for.

We lie together for a while, talking idly, letting the post-sex endorphins flow through our relaxed bodies. As it gets later, I almost convince myself that tonight, he’s going to stay.

Of course, he doesn’t. At one in the morning, just when I’m beginning to think that we’ve hit some kind of turning point, he lets out a breath and pulls himself upright, swinging his legs out of bed.

I don’t say anything as he gets to his feet. I sit back against the headboard of the bed, watching him go.

He offers me a quick “good night,” and I nod in response, a tightness in my throat that prevents me from saying anything else.

He had to leave, I remind myself. It would be unprofessional to stay.

I try not to think about it, turning off the lights and rolling over to get comfortable in bed. But the truth is, every night, this part gets harder and harder.

Chapter 23

Cole

Despite my late nights with Riley, I’ve been having no trouble coming into the office at my usual time each morning—somewhere between eight and eight-thirty, depending on what time I plan on returning home.

This morning, I’m in the elevator up to my office by eight fifteen. The firm has a suite of offices that comprise three floors of a high rise in midtown Manhattan, and my office is the penthouse—I have a suite to myself, in the corner of the topmost floor.

From the office, I have a spectacular view of the city that I almost never get to appreciate. The only times I have the chance to look out the window are while I’m on the phone.

“You’ve had two calls so far this morning, Mr. Sullivan,” says my assistant as soon as I step through the glass door. Kerry’s at her desk. She doesn’t look up from her computer screen as she vigorously types.

“Already? That’s early.”

She shrugs. “I told them you’d be in the office within the hour, and they said they’d call back, but you’ll probably seem more proactive if you get out ahead of them.”

“Of course. Thank you, Kerry. Could you shoot me their numbers?”

Kerry nods, and I head into my office. For a second, I pause and take a deep breath, looking out over the pointed skyscrapers. A flock of pigeons shoots past my windows.

“Do you want some coffee, sir?” Kerry asks, sticking her head in the doorway. “I was just about to put a pot on.”

“That would be fantastic. Thank you.”

She closes the door to give me my privacy. I stretch, then settle in at my desk to check my notifications.

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