Page 23 of Rectify

Sasha notices me, and a sympathetic smile graces her lips. It’s not the disdain and discomfort from the other day, so I bask in it. She whispers in Lily’s ear, and Lily’s baby blues find mine. She bounces off Sasha and literally flies into my open arms.

“Daddy’s here,” she squeals.

I hold her close, nuzzling my nose into her neck. I take a deep breath, finding relief in her soft, strawberry-scented skin.

Breaking our connection, I move my head back enough that we're face to face. “Someone told me you hurt yourself, are you okay?”

Her hand rushes to the back of her head as her lips turn into a frown. “Ouchies?” I ask. “Ouchies,” she repeats.

“Daddy kiss it better?”

She gives me a quick nod, so I place her down on the floor and crouch in front of her. With her hand still holding her head, she turns so her back faces me. Gently, I move her arm and let it drop by her side. I hold her shoulders and kiss the lump.

“All better,” I coo. I catch Sasha staring at us from the corner of my eye, and I do my best not to stare back. The moment is centred around Lily’s wellbeing, but now that my eyes are on her and I can see she's okay, Sasha returns to being front and centre.

This isn’t like the first time we saw each other. The air is lighter, and the tension has been replaced with some sort of mutual understanding.

With Lily in tow, I move towards her. The closer I get, the more anxious she becomes. She’s wringing her hands together, while biting at the corner of her mouth, her worry painfully obvious. Hopefully my presence can ease whatever nervousness she’s feeling.

“Thanks again,” I say as I reach her.

Her gaze darts between Lily and I. “She’s a sweetheart.”

“She really is.” Pride surges through me as I turn to see Lily smiling at nothing in particular. “She seems okay?” It comes out as both an observation and a question.

Sasha leans forward and tucks Lily’s wayward curls behind her ear. “She took it like a champ.”

Staring at one another, both of us wait for the next move to appear from thin air. Knowing it’s impossible, I bite the bullet. “Can we talk?”

“Let me get her bag, and the accident report.” If she thinks her deflection is going to deter me, she’s wrong. I watch her walk away, getting the perfect view of her behind.

Taking our history out of the equation, she’s the first woman to catch my eye in a long time. There’s never been a shortage on the ones on offer, but the older I get, and the more I live through, the more particular my tastes become. Some would say I’m a picky prick, and others would say I’m self-sabotaging, because there’s no such thing as the perfect woman. But I’ve been through them all; the one that got away, the one that changed me, and now I’m just too set in my ways to retread down that beaten path.

She can barely look at me, let alone talk to me. Getting a woman like Sasha onside with a man like me is difficult enough without adding feelings, and attraction. It would be easier to get a new kidney than it is convincing Sasha to hear my apology.

She returns, holding both things out to me, and I go for the backpack first. I grip the strap and throw it over my shoulder. Once I’m sure it isn’t going to fall off, I grab the paper and raise it close enough to read. I skim over the details of how Lily fell and the steps they took after. Satisfied with what’s written, I look back at her. “Coffee?”

“Jay,” she says with a sigh. “I can’t.”

“You can,” I push. “Just one conversation.”

Her eyes keep flicking to Lily, and I wonder if what people say about single dads are true. Hoping that Lily on my hip is enough to sway her.

“Whatever you need to say, you can say it here.”

“It’s been over a decade, Pretty Girl. I’ve got a lot to say.” The old nickname takes us both by surprise, but I don't feel any remorse or rush to take it back.

Sasha, on the other hand, blanches and any progress I might’ve made has been erased.

She shakes her head. “I can’t. Please don’t ask me again.”

I step closer and lower my voice. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

“Just let it go, Jay,” she whispers.

“I’m going to go.” I keep my voice even, but the words direct and prudent. “I need to get this little one home and pamper her and her swollen head. But I’ll keep asking, Sash. I’ll keep asking ‘til you say yes.”

I don’t want to leave this room with any misconceptions on where I stand. Walking backwards, I keep my gaze on her. With my eyes on the prize, I give her no room to move, so the only thing she can see when she looks at me is the persistence of a man who won't take no for answer.

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