“I’m your parent, too.” That came out angrier than he intended. Unresolved issues from long ago. “If you want to stay, I’ll make it happen.” He knew lawyers.
The mattress squeaked as she levered herself into a sitting position. Her tears had stopped, though the tracks still dampened her cheeks. She put her hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “I came here without permission or an invitation. Then I stretched that into an entire summer. Ford, do you want me to stay?”
Okay, just this once, screw not holding on tightly. He put his hands on her shoulders. “More than anything, Mia. I want you to stay more than anything.”
Next thing he knew, she was in his arms, her little sob of relief—possibly joy—breathing hope into places inside him he hadn’t realized were empty. Especially when she held tight and whispered, “I choose you.”
“I’m glad.” Because he could, he got up, bringing her with him, and hugged her to him so her feet dangled above the ground.
She laughed, as he’d hoped she would, and clung. “You might regret it. Probably will.”
“I had fourteen years to regret letting you go.” He bent and put her on her feet before straightening. “So I figure you owe me at least that many years to regret keeping you.”
She took a step back, crossed her arms, and gave him a very adult look—raised eyebrows and all. “Are you sure you’re not worried that having me around will, you know, interfere with your personal life?”
Uh-oh. He kept his expression neutral. “What personal life?”
Now she put a hand on her hip. “Oh, please. You have a personal life.” Then, before he could deny or downplay the assertion, she went right on, “Because if you are worried, I want to point out that having me around would actually make things easier. I can watch Shayla while you and Lilah go out, or stay in, or”—she wiggled her brows meaningfully—“whatever.”
“Whatever? Um, whatever gave you the idea Lilah and I are up to…whatever?”
“Um,” she mimicked, “because I saw you kissing in the driveway the night we babysat Shayla. Then she went on that date—which, I’ll admit, confused me—but since then you two have been all heart-eyes at each other at work, which makes me think she’s not going on any more dates with other guys now, so…” She tipped her head to the side and smiled. “Whatever.”
“Oh.” Jesus. He resisted the urge to run his suddenly sweaty palms down the legs of his jeans. They’d done a lot more than kiss that night in the driveway. Nice parent play. At least it had been pretty dark. Hopefully, she hadn’t gotten too much of an eyeful, but she’d definitely seen him get…personal…with Lilah, who was years younger than him, after he’d chewed her out for getting too personal with a guy just two years older than her. “I guess I seem like a hypocrite, grounding you for kissing Louis and then you turn around and see me with Lilah, but—”
“You and Lilah are grown-ups. Parents, even.” She lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “It’s not the same as Louis and me. I get that. Anyway, you’re into her, right?”
Lord, how had he ended up in this conversation? More importantly, how could he get out of it without embarrassing himself? Further. “I have a lot of respect and admiration for Lilah.”
Okay, that was not the way, judging by Mia’s laugh.
“Right.” Her smile could not be contained. “So, next time you want to get together with her and discuss your respect and admiration, voila.” She wiggled her fingers around herself. “You have a built-in babysitter.”
“That’s very nice,” he said as briskly as possible and turned to walk down the hall—yes, escaping, he was man enough to admit it to himself. “Very nice, and very unnecessary. I’m not keeping you around because I want a built-in babysitter. I’m keeping you around because I want you around.” He dragged a hand through his hair, pivoted, and found her directly behind him, still with the ear-to-ear grin. “Even if you are a pain in the ass sometimes.”
Her grin only widened. “I love you, too, Ford.”
He felt his lips twitching. “Maybe, since you’re staying, you can swing by the lumberyard sometime soon and pick a paint color for the bedroom. Might as well do it up the way you want it.”
Her eyes lit. “Hot pink?”
“No pink.”
She laughed again and stopped in the entryway to pull on her black-and-white checkerboard Vans. “I wouldn’t do that to us. But thanks. Seriously.” She straightened and took his hand. “Do you want me to call Mom?”
“No. I’ll do it. This is for me to work out.” He gestured her out the door ahead of him and pulled it closed behind them. “But I’ll keep you posted.” High-level posted. He wouldn’t share the details if things got ugly.