Page 117 of Wild Abandon

I rush down to her room and lift her out of her crib. As soon as she is in my arms, her crying stops.

“Looks like the little girl just wanted to be held. Well, you’re in luck because I’ve been dying to hold you some more.”

Ring, ding.

Isla and I walk to the front of the apartment where it sounded like the doorbell was ringing. I peer out the window of the brownstone but don’t see a delivery truck. Perhaps it’s someone stopping by to see the new baby.

I look through the peephole and am staring at the back of a man’s jacket.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Nate.”

I gasp and then spin around, putting my back to the front door. Isla is tight against my chest. I look down at her and ask, “Did he just say, it’s Nate?”

“I did.” Nate’s voice comes from the other side of the door.

Of course he can hear me.

My heart speeds up, and my breathing becomes erratic.

I look back down to Isla. “Next time Naomi wants to write to the love gods or your mom wants to make a premonition of handsome men appearing at my door, I’m asking them to up the ante. End world hunger, cure cancer, chocolate that melts fat—”

“Are you going to let me in?” Nate asks.

It suddenly dawns on me that he’s not outside my door. He’s outside Emma and Alexander’s door.

“How did you know I was here?” I ask through the door.

“Is there a reason you’re refusing to let me in?”

Is there a reason?

No.

Yes.

Well, now that I think about it, I can’t see him. I’ll die a thousand deaths at just the sight of him. To look at him and not be able to touch him is a tragedy.

Then again, he did fly all the way across the country to see me.

Oh my God, he flew across the country to see me.

“Crystal…” My name off his tongue is a plea. His voice is low and closer, as if his head is resting against the wood. “I have been traveling nonstop for the last sixteen hours. Please let me see you.”

I turn around, unlatch the top lock, and open the door.

Yep, I knew it was a bad idea. Incredible olive-green eyes outlined by an intoxicating mop of dark hair that’s rich, full, and wavy. He’s wearing a peacoat and jeans with wing-tip shoes, and he smells like cotton, spice, and whiskey.

The smell alone is killing me.

“You have a baby?” he asks, a mixture of surprise and dread.

I look down at Isla, who has fallen back to sleep.

“No! This is Emma’s baby. It’s been a month, Nate. How could I have possibly had a baby?”

His face startles, and he shakes his head, the tendrils floating about. “Wow, I think the jet lag just got to me. But, wait, when we were together…in my apartment, we didn’t…we weren’t—”