Page 18 of Her Irresistible Husband

WS

I stare at the message card in my hands.

That's it?

Really?

I'm not even sure what to think, and so I end up asking myself yet again.

Is Wynd Sullivan truly the man God wants me to spend the rest of my life with?

My fingers curl into fists around the note, but even as my heart aches with confusion, I start to remember how he was with the children last night.

There was not a single trace of the intimidating billionaire in Wynd while he was spending time with the kids.

I remember him never losing his patience even when they badgered him with questions.

The genuine amusement that flashed in his eyes when a mishap with the ketchup bottle caused Izzy to squirt red sauce directly onto his face, staining his expensive white shirt.

I remember so many...just so, so many good things that the truth is an absolute no-brainer.

Wynd Sullivan can and will be a good father to Samuel or any other child he wishes to adopt.

But as to whether he'd make a good husband or whether I'd make a good wife to him...

Why can't I hear You all of a sudden, God?

I just don't know anymore.

Is Wynd truly the man I've been waiting over forty years to spend the rest of my life with?

Chapter Eight

WYND SULLIVAN WAS NOTthe type to be distracted at work. He had always possessed an almost supernatural ability to compartmentalize, and in the early years of his career, using work to keep his mind from dwelling on his parents' deaths was the reason he had been able to build his billion-dollar empire from scratch.

He was not a slacker.

Had never been one either.

He had also believed he would never be so.

Until today.

He had been at the office for over four hours now.

But he still hadn't gotten a single damn thing done.

If there was one thing he had accomplished, it was to experience self-disgust for the first time in his life, with how he had found himself repeatedly checking his phone for any call or message...from her.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He had never let a woman affect him this way.

And certainly never this much.

But from the moment he had left her side, he had not been able to stop thinking of her.

His body seethed with impatience, and at a quarter to twelve, Wynd was done pretending. He was done playing cool.

---