Page 258 of Daddy, Take Me Away
This trip has been about me, finding out who I am and who I want to be going forward.
I swallow hard at the thought forming in my head. The who I am going forward wants something real with Amadeo.
But am I brave enough to ask if he wants the same?
He doesn’t do girlfriends, but he’s been doing a really poor job of proving that, because he’s been the best boyfriend I’ve ever had. And it can’t just be fake, for his exes’ sake anymore, can it? We’ve barely seen them.
As if on cue, Amadeo texts me. Ever dive with sharks?
My smile is huge. Uh, no… wait, do land sharks count?
Nope, and these sharks are far less dangerous. You in?
I hold my phone, nervousness rippling through me. I’ve been terrified of sharks since I saw Jaws on TV when I was seven. And Amadeo knows it.
In a cage?
Nope, but there are safety divers.
God, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but yes. Let’s do it.
Be there in twenty minutes. Just finishing up my final meeting with Gwen. Signing papers and then the exes are on a plane home. Thank fuck.
Think they’ll take my exes with them?
Do you want me to ask?
I send him a laughing face emoji.
I’m wrestling my curls back so they won’t get too tangled in the dive mask, when another text comes through. As I pick up my phone, my jaw clenches.
The ‘poor me’ drama ends tonight, Sis. It’s been long enough. The rehearsal dinner is at eight. Be there.
Maybe I’d take it better if my actual sister was the one who texted, but it isn’t a text from Fiona. It’s from Mark… and he’s calling me Sis? I’m so annoyed, I delete the message and toss my phone into a drawer.
Why can’t they understand that I don’t want to be cheering them on? I growl, giving up on my hair, and instead heading out to meet Amadeo at his office. If I stay here, Mark might find me.
Chapter Twelve
Amadeo
We’re in a boardroom since my office still shows signs I slept there. I’d taken my clothes and toiletries to Zoë’s, but my other personal belongings are still there. Enough of my personal belongings to make Gwen question my fake girlfriend.
Fake girlfriend. Zoë doesn’t feel like a fake girlfriend though.
I don’t know if she ever did. We’ve had a connection from the start. And as much as I tell myself I don’t do relationships and attachments, Zoë’s been different.
Making her happy, helping her grow to be the little adventure junkie she strives to be, is a fucking joy.
I both love and admire the way fear flickers in her eyes just as she’s about to do something scary, and then fuck, just when I think she’ll back out—and I’m here to support that too—she takes the leap.
And all the shit I do, the planning, the surprises, introducing her to new exciting places and restaurants, it’s not out of obligation like I’d expected dating to be. I want to do it. I want to make this woman happy, see her face light up, and watch her experience things.
I didn’t date Gwen, at least not typical dating. And I scoffed at any of my friends that did that shit, thinking it was an awful lot of effort for sex. But it’s effortless when you want to do it.
Garret, my lawyer, clears his throat and I look up. “Huh?”
“Maybe you don’t want this resort back?” Gwen says, staring at me, her eyes deep-freeze chilly.
