Page 96 of Falling for Her

“Asa,” Maggie calls. He lets go of me.

“I had the best time with you,” he whispers. “You are the best babysitter ever.”

I laugh and hold up my hand for him to give me a high five. “You bet I am.” Lincoln laughs beside me as we watch Asa turn and walk away from us.

I wave as the car drives away and then turn to Lincoln. “I should get going,” I tell him. “I have a long two days ahead of me.” He doesn’t reply as I walk back into the apartment to gather my things. When I come back out, Lincoln still stands in the same spot.

His hand comes out to grab my bag as he turns to walk to my SUV parked at the curb. He puts the bag in the back and shuts it. The lump in my throat makes it hard to even fucking breathe.

His hands come up to cup my cheeks, and he bends to kiss me. His tongue slides into mine as I hold on to the side of his T-shirt. It’s a kiss to end all kisses. He lets go of my lips sooner than I want him to and presses his forehead on mine as his hands drop from my face.

“Thank you for the best three weeks I’ve ever had,” I say.

He smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you for taking care of Asa.”

I swallow now and silently beg him to give me a sign that he wants me, wants me to stay. Give me even a glimmer that it’s not just me who fell in love.

“I should go,” I tell him.

He nods and softly kisses my lips one more time before walking to the side of my car and opening the door for me.

I exhale and put my head down, telling myself this is the sign he doesn’t want me like I want him. “You be good, Lincoln.” I put my hand on his chest, just for a split second, afraid to feel his heart, afraid it’s not going to be beating as fast as mine. Afraid it’s going to show me this meant nothing.

I get behind the wheel and start the engine as he steps away, holding my hand up with a watery smile. I make the mistake of looking in the rearview mirror at the end of the driveway, finding him already looking away from me.

“You’ll be fine,” I tell myself as I let the tears roll down my face.

It takes me less time to get home than I thought. I stop at a hotel, a nicer place than before. But I only stay four hours instead of eight. I give up when I wake up at 3:00 a.m. and can’t fall back asleep.

When I pull into the entrance of my building, the doorman greets me.

“Ms. Westbook, welcome home.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry, I’ve never gotten your name.”

“It’s Taylor,” he answers with a smile. “Do you have any bags?”

“I do, but I can get it.” I open the back and take the bag out. “Is Mr. Lawrence at home?”

“I don’t think so. But I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you. He asked me to let him know when you arrive.”

“Thank you, but please don’t.” I force a smile, which he returns. “Actually, could you call me when he arrives instead?”

“Of course.” I should ask him right now about changing the elevator code, but something stops me.

Walking into the lobby, I suddenly hate everything about this building. It’s wall-to-wall granite and screams fancy rich. I step into one of the elevators, press PH1, and enter my code on the number pad.

When the doors open at my penthouse, cool air greets me. The floor-to-ceiling windows show off the city skyline, not a fucking tree in sight. I check all the rooms. The whole place feels sterile and dry. It doesn’t look like Davis has been here in a while, but that could be because of the cleaning service that comes in twice a week.

The phone rings as I put my bag in the bedroom, and I answer.

“Finley, glad I caught you.” It’s my lawyer, Clyde.

“Not as glad as I am that you called me back. It’s been two days.” His father was my grandfather’s attorney, and a good one, so when he recently retired, I stayed with the same firm. But I am beginning to regret that decision.

“Sorry about that. Listen, I just got off the phone with Davis.”

I sit down on the king-size bed. “Why are you talking to Davis? You should be talking to his lawyer about him signing the divorce papers.”