Page 219 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
Could that have also been the crow that crapped on Derrick Dawson?
She had so many questions.
Was that her mom?
Or was that bird, that crow, the harbinger of the past, present, and future, simply reacting to the energy created when Ida had helped her mother craft a heartfelt intention?
As if the crow had read her mind, it stilled, then spread its wings, and flew away, disappearing beyond the towering birch trees.
She’d gotten the message loud and clear.
It was time to spread her wings, follow her dreams, and trust in the power of her mother’s intention.
This was her path.
Would she walk it with Erasmus Cress?
She didn’t know. What she did understand was that whichever way he went, whatever road he followed, it had to be his choice. Her path had led her here, and with an open heart, a heart ready to take risks and even break, she knew what she had to do.
“I just need a second,” she said, pulling her cell from her pocket. She opened her texts and tapped the icon to write a new message.
To:
She typed three letters:D,A,D.
Message:
Can we meet up? I’d like to talk.
Send.
This was moving forward. This was trusting in her mother’s love—and maybe, just maybe, her path would cross with Sebastian and Raz’s again.
Picture a time when you were truly happy. Hold that feeling inside your chest, close to your heart.
She inhaled deeply, then exhaled a cleansing breath as a memory unfolded like a butterfly climbing out of its cocoon. It was a replay of the moment she banged her gong like a wild woman outside the boxing gym.
That was the moment when everything had changed.
The moment triggered by her mother’s cherished wish.
It was time to live the life her mother wanted for her.
She visualized the night it all started. She could see Raz’s face, stricken with disbelief, and then she recalled the first words out of his mouth—those silly words that spoke to her heart.
She turned to Cleo and Laney and bit back a grin. “What do you think of naming my vibrator the Wham, Bam, Thank You, Libby Lamb?”
Thirty-Three
Erasmus
Raz stared at the road.His eyes were open, but he didn’t see anything. Trees, buildings, and street signs passed in a blur of color. Every once in a while, a bus would pass with his image plastered across the side and the wordsPay-Per-View Main Eventblasted in bold letters. Nothing registered. Nothing made him look twice. The city had adorned flags with boxing gloves to the light posts lining the major Denver boulevards. The Mile-High City had set its sights on professional boxing, and the clock was ticking.
He usually fed off the energy.
Not this time.
He’d been holed up in the gym, eating, sleeping, and breathing his sport, doing anything and everything to dull the pain and distract himself from the soul-sucking doubt.
