Page 17 of Reluctant to Love
“What’s wrong with you,” Caroline comments as we’re revising a book tour schedule. “It’s like you have ants in your pants or something.”
I bite my lower lip. “I shouldn’t ask this,” I begin, “but I’m eager to know about your meeting tomorrow.”
“How do you know I have a meeting tomorrow?”
I admit to seeing her schedule a few months ago and she teases me for being nosy.
“Do you know Eleanor Jessup?”
“Yes,” I state. I don’t see the need to offer up any additional information.
“I was really impressed with the manuscript she submitted. It was so heartbreaking and moving. And then I found out Eleanor herself is a single mother, which really added another layer of depth to the story. Have you read it?”
The world stops turning the moment the words “single mother” are uttered. Eleanor has a child? A million questions swirl around in my brain. But only one matters.
Is the child mine?
“Roderick,” Caroline calls out.
“Sorry, what did you say?”
“Did you read Eleanor’s manuscript?”
“No, not yet.”
Her lips form a smile, like she has a secret she is eager to tell. “I shouldn’t say anything to you but I sold her manuscript. I’m going to tell her tomorrow.”
“Wow,” I breathe out.
She rattles off the details of the contract but I don’t hear them. All I can think about is whether or not Eleanor’s child is my child. And there’s only one way to find out.
“I’m sorry, but can we cut this meeting short?”
“Is something wrong?”
“I don’t know yet,” I cryptically respond before quickly escaping the conference room.
For all of her talk about honesty, I hope Eleanor isn’t keeping a secret this big.
I jam the elevator call button rapidly, willing the car to arrive and when it does, I sprint inside and slam my hand over the number of my floor.
My heart beats thunderously in my chest and my knee shakes nervously. Do I have a son or a daughter out there? Is that the real reason Eleanor didn’t come looking for me once the dust settled?
When the doors slide open, I rush out into the hallway and down toward our room. I can’t get my keycard out of my pocket quick enough. I wave it over the card reader and push the door open.
“Eleanor!” I can hear her muffled voice coming from the master bedroom. I thrust the door open to find her sitting on the edge of the bed, her cell phone against her ear. “Eleanor, we have to talk.Now.”
She holds up a hand and says to the person on the other end, “I’ll let you know as soon as I have details.”
When she hangs up the phone, her big blue eyes are filled with worry. “Whatever it is, it can wait. I have to fly back home tonight.”
“No,” I tell her firmly. “You’re not leaving this hotel room until you tell me whether or not I have a child.”