Page 66 of Worth the Try
I tuck myself into the driver’s seat and breathe, my hands flexing on the wheel after I start the engine.Ansel’s focus is on his daughter. Not me. He’s not mad at me.And even though I repeat the words over and over as I weave into traffic, it’s hard to get past the fact that there’s something he’s keeping from me.
Chapter 22
Ansel
IT TAKES HOURS before I’m calm enough to think rationally. It’s only after I’ve put Rosie to bed that I manage to float out of my rage-induced haze and fully comprehend that Elodie’s been here the whole time. Quietly watching me, helping with dinner, and then stepping into the kitchen without a word so I could take Rosie through her nighttime routine.
Shit.
I need to apologize. To maybe—maybe try explaining the situation. Letting her in that much more.
The thought makes my heartbeat hitch. Could I do it? Lay it all on the table?
What if it’s too much? What if me and Rosie aren’t worth it?
No.The answer clangs through me, clear as a bell. She wouldn’t think that. I can trust her. Idotrust her. I hustle down the stairs, already sorting out the words to use. But when I round the banister, she’s gone.
For a moment, I consider calling her back over. Handing over this final piece of me and Rosie, and hoping like hell she wants to take it.
I blow out a breath. Maybe this is for the best. This—we—aren’t her problem. I can handle it, the same way I’ve handledeverything for Rosalie from the moment Lauren abandoned her on my doorstep. I’ve built my entire life around my little girl, fought for the success and safety we have, and the thought of someone—of Lauren, especially—waltzing back in here and taking her from me?
No.
Absolutely the fuck not.
My hands shake as I pace the living room. No, this entire thing is volatile and terrible and nothing that Elodie needs to be concerned with. It’s my problem. I’ll deal with it.
I barely get any sleep, and when I do, it’s filled with nightmares about Rosie being dragged out of the house. When I feel a tiny hand on my cheek, I jerk upright.
Rosie’s grinning at me, her sweet face so innocent that it makes me physically hurt. “Hi, Daddy.”
I scrub a hand down my face and try to wake up. “Hi, Rosie girl.”
She tilts her head, curls falling into her face with the movement. “I’m hungry. Elle Belle said I should come wake you up while she makes me breakfast.”
Bleary-eyed, I look at the clock. “Guess I overslept, huh?”
Rosie nods seriously.
I need to pull it together. I widen my eyes and snarl, “Doesn’t mean I can’t still tickle you to pieces!” Then I snatch her giggling body up and into my arms. But I don’t tickle her. I just hold her.
Rosie’s finished breakfast by the time I make it downstairs, but Elodie is in the kitchen.
“Good morning.”
She turns, and the sight of her takes my breath away. Sunlight frames her face as she smiles tentatively at me. “Rough night?”
I’m a fool. I should have told her everything last night. My shoulders slump. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She waves my apology away with a smile that I know isn’t genuine. “You don’t owe me anything.”
The cavalier way she says it punches my chest in. As if Nice Elodie is here, and not the woman who I’ve started feeling things for that I probably shouldn’t. I cross the room and pull her hands into mine. “It’s not okay. I need to explain?—”
My phone rings, reminding me that I’m going to be late.
Elodie squeezes my hands before releasing them and shooing me away. “Answer it. Go. We’ll talk later.”
When I pull the phone out of my pocket, I see my lawyer’s name on the screen. I exhale in frustration and bite back a curse. “I need to take this. I’m?—”
