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“Look over there.” I point to the window. “See how cloudy it is outside?”
“Yeah, it looks like it’s going to rain.”
“That’s right. And it probably will. I’d rather it was sunny and warm outside, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it from raining or to make the sun come out, right?”
“I guess not.”
“So if we have to go out in the rain, we prepare for it. We grab an umbrella and wear a coat. But we never sit and worry about the rain, do we? We take whatever Mother Nature throws at us and we get through it the best we can. The weather is going to do it’s thing whether we worry about it or not, whether we even notice or not.”
She cocks her head to the side, studying the gloomy sky through the window. “I’ve never thought about it like that before. I think I’m still going to worry about some things, though.”
I smile and give her another hug. “That’s okay, too. You can always come talk to me if you’re worried about something. If it’s something I can help with, I’ll do everything I can to make it better.”
She mirrors my smile as she slides down off the bed and looks up into my eyes again. “Do you promise?”
“Cross my heart.”
“Okay, thanks Ella. Let’s play now!”
She runs off, knowing I’ll be right behind her. The realization hits me that I’m one of the very few adults in her life she can fully trust. There’s me, her dad, Saffron, and… that’s all, really. It’s no wonder the kid has so much anxiety about people drifting in and out of her life. That’s all she’s ever known.
That realization is going to make things a lot harder when I eventually have to leave, too.
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
KEIRAN
The head of the European news division is wrapping up a presentation to the NewsCorp board and I’ve been watching the clock for the past twenty-three minutes, counting down each second until the meeting is officially over.
I’m tempted to stand up and walk out of the room right now, but I don’t feel like dealing with the shit-storm that would cause among the other board members.
Stifling a sigh, I look away from the clock and try to seem engaged as someone at the other end of the table asks some inane question that nobody cares about.
Or maybe I’m the only one who doesn’t care.
Not giving a shit has been my default mood since we got back from New York. No matter how hard I try to clear my head and focus on the real, important work I have to do, my thoughts keep circling back to Ella and the conversation we had that night at the ballet exhibit.
I’ve never admitted to anyone that I might want to settle down and remarry one of these days. I make it a point to keep my feelings locked away, right next to my hopes and dreams.
Makes it harder for people to hurt me that way.
But when I’m with Ella, those walls start coming down before I even have a chance to realize what’s happening. She makes me smile. She makes me laugh even when I’m in a shitty mood. Which, for the record, is most of the time these days.
Hell, she even makes me want to do ridiculous, sappy shit like holding hands in public or kissing in the middle of a crowded room for no apparent reason whatsoever.
What is it about her that brings out the best in me?
I glance over at James, two seats down from me. He’s barely keeping his eyes open, but that’s nothing new. If he was just one seat closer, I’d kick him in the shin. I’m still pissed off about how his drunken antics ruined my plans with Ella, but it’s not like I can do anything about it now.
Yelling at him doesn’t work. Kicking his ass only ever worked for a few days at a time, and that was back when we were kids. These days he seems more determined than ever to goad me into throwing the first punch. In fact, I think my anger fuels his bad behavior in some weird, twisted way.
Everyone at the table starts to stand up, and James’ eyes pop open as if on cue.
Typical.
He leans in with a smirk as the other executives mumble their goodbyes and shuffle toward the door. “Is it just me or did that meeting drag on for-fucking-ever?”
“I’m surprised you noticed,” I shoot him a sideways glance as I collect the stack of reports that’s been sitting untouched on the conference table in front of me. “You slept through most of it, as far as I could tell.”
