Page 45 of Free to Believe
And Daddy’s excuses didn’t quite cut it anymore.
Since Emily moved in, I’ve seen the Jenna I knew was hiding inside come out. Between silly laughter with Lynne—who’s become a permanent fixture at our home the last couple of days—to random shared laughter when I’ll be driving her to Sacred Grinds for a late shift and a particularly awful song comes on the radio, the Jenna I know has been coming back to me. She hasn’t needed to be prompted—or yelled at—to clean her room, help around the house, or get ready for work. Before this week, I could barely remember a time when my daughter wasn’t disrespecting or arguing with me.
But right now, I’m beginning to understand why there’s a new glow about her that has nothing to do with the tan she’s acquiring from being in the sun so much. She’s basking in the glow of a woman’s attention. And that woman is stretched out on a lounger wearing an open men’s shirt revealing a red bikini beneath that stirs my long dormant needs. Swallowing hard, I try to get this burning desire for my new neighbor under control before I do something stupid.
Like kiss her again.
Or rip the shirt from her and demand who it belonged to.
Because the more I’m around Emily Freeman, the more I’m convinced that she weaves more than just material together. Apparently, she can weave people’s hearts back together too. As a result, my voice is harsher than usual when I bite out, “Jenna, time to go.”
Emily drawls sarcastically, “Well, aren’t you just the bright ray of sunshine.” Jenna grins.
Clenching my teeth together, I try for some semblance of calm. “I’ve got things to do. Some of us actually have things to do beyond sunbathe.” Like get over being incredibly turned on and irritated because of it.
The catalyst for my emotions curls her lip slightly, before she turns her back to me. I gape at her as she proceeds to ignore me in favor of the two teenage girls in front of me. “Think about what Cori and I were saying, okay?Bothof you.” She directs her comment to my wayward daughter.
Jenna nods eagerly. “I will, Em.”
Em. Fucking Em. Who the hell is she to give advice to my daughter? And then my temper cools with the next comment out of her luscious mouth.
“Jenna, sweetheart.” Emily directs an open smile at my child, and inside my chest, my heart stops. I swear the earth didn’t move; the moon collided into the sun. “You’ve been such a huge help to me with Mugsy this week and generally keeping my spirits up because of my leg, and if it’s all right with your father, I’d like to talk to you about a birthday present.” Her head tips toward mine, but she keeps her focus on Jenna.
As much as I don’t want to give her credit, I’m both surprised and impressed she didn’t ignore me and give it to her anyway. “What are you thinking of?” I ask.
Turning just her head, her curls bounce from the ocean breeze. She bites her lower lip in concern, not out of seduction. Though, damnit, it still riles my body up in the same way. Hoping my voice is still under control, I prompt her, “Em?”
“If she doesn’t have a dress for her birthday, maybe I could make her one?” The words are rushed out.
Jenna gasps in surprise. Then she jumps up and down.
“And Lynne too,” Em tacks on.
The girls look at each other in wonder before screaming, “Yes!”
“I just thought, they’re going to be going to college soon,” Emily hurriedly explains. “This could be something they could take with them.”
I’m astounded. Emily’s actually anxious I’ll say no. Even without the fact I’ve seen her work on a woman I consider more of a sister than cousin, I would never, could never, break my daughter’s heart by saying no. Softly, so only Emily can hear, I say, “Her birthday is next Friday. Does that give you enough time to do both dresses?”
“Bet your ass it does,” she says back just as softly. “You can tell her yes, and I’ll get started.”
Jenna and Lynne are clutching each other hopefully, waiting on pins and needles. “All right, Em. If it won’t be too much trouble…” I can’t finish the sentence, because my daughter is running across the deck and slamming into my body with such force, I’m knocked back a foot.
“Thank you, Daddy. Thank you.” Her heartfelt whisper ricochets between my head and my heart. Before I can recover from that, another more hesitant set of arms wrap around me. Lynne leans in and whispers, “This is too amazing.”
Squeezing the girls tighter, especially my daughter, I say, “Now, let’s give Emily some space. We have to get Lynne home and”—my eyes meet those the color of the moon hitting the ocean at midnight, and I force my body not to shudder in reaction—“Em has some work to do.”
“Give me just one second, Daddy.” Jenna breaks away and runs to Em. She takes her by surprise when she throws herself against her. With an “Oomph,” Emily practically falls to her back on the lounger, unable to counterbalance Jenna’s exuberance. Jenna says something muffled. Emily’s face softens. Lowering her head to rest on my daughter’s, their blonde hair mingling, I’m slapped in the face with what I could have had if my ex hadn’t been such a self-centered bitch.
I hurt for Jenna living on the scraps of a woman’s love.
I ache for everything I couldn’t give her.
I yearn for the need to step forward and wrap my arms around them both.
Clearing my throat, I get out, “Sorry, Emily. Now, Jenna.”
Her head lifts from Emily’s. She steps back reluctantly. “Right. Thanks, Em.”
