Page 91 of Manhattan Kiss

“How old is she?”

“Three. Yours?”

“Willow is six, going on sixteen. You’re still in the trenches. It gets easier.”

“My wife is pregnant with number two. It’s just about to get a whole lot harder.”

A dull ache lands with a thud in my gut. He has the perfect family I wanted for Willow. “Congratulations,” I say. “When’s she due?”

“October. This will be my last trip away from home until after the baby.”

“I get it. You want to wrap them up in cotton wool, right?”

“Right. And if you don’t get to see your daughter half the week, I’m not surprised you missed the conference. How about we grab breakfast tomorrow before I head off? I think there might be some interesting synergies that we can talk about.”

It’s just breakfast, but it feels like I scored the winning touchdown. “Sounds good.”

We’re interrupted by some people who Jason knows, and I make my excuses and leave them. I just need to find Ryder, tell him happy birthday, and I can head back downtown.

I turn and scan the crowd—and over by the window, I swear I see Aurora.

This woman is playing tricks on my brain. I’m imagining her everywhere.

The woman I’m staring at turns, and we lock eyes.

It is Aurora.

“Hey,” she mouths at me, and I start to weave in and out of the crowd toward her.

I’m vaguely aware that a couple of people call my name as I’m heading through the throng, but I ignore them. I don’t care about anything but getting to Aurora. Seeing her here…it suddenly feels like this is where I’m meant to be. She’s where I’m meant to be.

Our gazes stay locked together, and it seems to take hours to reach her. When I do, I’m so relieved, I cup the back of her head and press my lips to hers without stopping to say hello. Her fingers find my chest, and I push my tongue through her lips and kiss her like we’ve been reconciled after months away from each other.

She presses gently on my chest, and I pull back ever so slightly.

“Hey,” I say, full of relief that she’s here.

“Hey,” she says, grinning at me. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

Someone lets out an exaggerated cough beside us.

“Care to introduce us, Aurora?” the voice says.

Aurora raises her eyebrows. “Deacon, this is my best friend, Darcy.”

I turn, reluctantly, not wanting to focus on anything but Aurora.

A woman about the same age and height as Aurora smiles at me and sticks out her hand. “Good to meet you.”

I take her hand. “Good to meet you too,” I say, and I turn my attention back to Aurora.

“So, tell me about yourself, Deacon,” Darcy says.

“Deacon?”

I recognize Ryder Westbury’s voice from behind me and turn.

“Ryder,” I say. “Good to see you.” We shake hands because we’re both British, and even though we’ve both been in the US longer than either of us were ever in the UK, some things are part of our DNA. We can’t hug. It’s genetically impossible.