Page 29 of Valentine's Day Daddy

“I tried to tell you not to do it,” she says.

“Yeah, that’s not how that conversation went as best as I remember it.”

“It was something close to that,” she says with a shrug. “Look, this whole giving up thing isn’t you, Ezra. You look like garbage and your attitude sucks.”

“Wow. Your compassion is breathtaking.”

“It’s called tough love, sweetheart. You had a setback, I get it,” she says. “But you can either sit here looking like you haven’t showered in a week or stand up, dust your skirt off, and get back into the fight. Do you care about this girl?”

I run a hand over my jaw, the three days’ worth of growth making a dry, scratchy sound. She’s not wrong. I do look like garbage. My suit isn’t pressed and my shoes aren’t polished. I’ve been so scattered, I’m lucky I remembered to put on a vest and a tie this morning.

“I think the answer to that is fairly obvious,” I say. “And this is why I never let myself get wrapped up in my feelings, Mimi. I’ve got bigger things to do than sit here, wallowing in misery and feeling like shit because I’m all emotionally fucked up.”

“But sharing your life with somebody gives meaning to everything you’re doing,” she counters. “If you don’t open yourself up to love and take a chance on it, what’s the point of building the things you’re building?”

“To avoid feeling like this,” I grouse.

“I’ve never seen you like this about anybody before, Ezra. It’s obvious this girl is special to you,” Mimi says. “And I think you need to fight for her.”

“She won’t return my calls or texts. And she won’t open the door when I go to her place,” I tell her. “I went to her agency, and she refused to come down. I’ve tried fighting for her. But there comes a point when you have to know when to throw in the towel.”

“Then—and I say this as a friend who loves you—if you’re at that point, you need to pull your head out of your ass and get back to work,” she says. “You need to get yourself out of this rut and back on track. But I beg you, don’t let this experience close you off to the idea of love. Instead, use it as a springboard of what you can have.”

Although I appreciate everything Mimi is saying and see the inherent wisdom in her words, I also know the chances of finding somebody I connect with as well as I connect with Ashton are slim to none. Maybe even less than that. My phone chirps with an incoming call from my assistant, so I lean forward and press the button for the speakerphone.

“Yes, Haley,” I answer.

“Mr. Mullen, I have a Ms. Rodgers in the lobby. She says she’d like to speak with you?”

Mimi and I share a look and I feel my stomach churn. Mimi leans forward.

“Is that—”

“It is,” I say then look at the phone. “See her in please, Haley. Thank you.”

“Right away, sir.”

Mimi and I get to our feet and she folds her arms over her chest, a smug smirk on her face. She turns to me, and I know exactly what she’s going to say before she opens her mouth.

“I told you she just needed a little time and would be back,” she says.

“I hate being right all the time,” I mutter to myself and shake my head.

"You're not right all the time," she says with a grin.

My office door opens and Haley shows Ashton in then departs without another word. The air crackles with an awkward tension as Ashton’s gaze shifts from me to Mimi then back again.

“We haven’t been formally introduced,” Mimi says, extending her hand. “Mimi Hollins. Ezra can’t function without me.”

An amused smirk flickers across Ashton’s lips as she takes Mimi’s hand. “Ashton Rodgers. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s mine. And before I go to give you both a little privacy, let me just say that Ezra is an idiot who does idiot things sometimes," I say. "He's a man, so it's not his fault. He’s genetically inclined to be an idiot. And he’s sorry.”

I stare at her for a minute then roll my eyes. Ashton though, laughs, and I’m suddenly rethinking the wisdom of letting these two meet and running the risk of them sparking up a friendship. Two-on-one might be fun in some instances but this wouldn’t be one of them.

“Okay,” Mimi says. “You two crazy kids have a good time.”

I watch her saunter out of the office, giving me a wave before she steps out and closes the door behind her. I turn back to Ashton and feel my heart stutter drunkenly in my chest. She’s wearing one of her own dresses—and not one of the dresses I bought for her. Probably to make a statement. It’s blue with red polka dots, a wide-flowing skirt, and a heart-shaped bustline. Her deep red hair cascades down over her shoulders, contrasting beautifully with her alabaster-colored skin. She looks incredible. Also, probably to make a statement.

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