Page 12 of Can’t Let You Go (Ivy Ridge #3)

FALLON

I mentally slap myself as I run away from Jason.

God, word vomit much? I was spewing how much I love love, like a freaking Valentine’s Day Hallmark movie.

Meanwhile, he’s standing there next to me, the epitome of uninterest, probably thinking how absurd I am.

We have barely talked since. Most of the time during playdates, he’s focused on watching Lennie, or gives me one word answers.

Our conversations are short and to the point nowadays.

I want to break down the walls he’s put up, but I doubt I’ll be able to.

To be honest, I have no idea how I still believe in love after what Brad did to me and Presley, but I do. I saw what true love was when I was a kid, watching my mom and dad, and now, I see it in my best friend, and her husband, as well as my other friends.

Do I think I’ll find love for myself again?

Probably not. I have too much baggage after Brad, but like I told Jason, I have Presley, and that’s enough.

I have so much love for her that it’s all I need.

I wish her sibling could be here for Presley, someone to have at her side, besides me.

Having a sibling is different from a mom, but the cards didn’t fall that way.

A pang of grief hits me square in the chest, but I shake that off.

I bring my focus back to the task at hand.

The mother of the groom called me over, complaining that the bride and groom are taking too long for portraits.

I’ve tried explaining to her that they aren’t running behind, they still have at least twenty-five minutes before they’re due back, but she’s not having it.

“I don’t understand why they are taking so long,” she continues. I do my best to keep a straight face and not roll my eyes. “I could have sworn I saw the photographer a few minutes ago, so wouldn’t they be with her?”

In all reality, I know they’re not taking photos anymore.

They specifically slotted themselves thirty minutes of alone time between their portrait session and when they are due for the grand entrance.

Marissa, the photographer, and I are the only ones who know they technically aren’t doing their portraits right now.

I have no idea where they are, or what they are doing, just that they’re alone.

Honestly, I think it’s smart. It’s good to get some time to themselves, whether it be for a quickie, or time to recoup from the craziness of their wedding day.

“Mrs. Swenson, I promise, they’re on time. They’re finishing up here in about — ” I check the time on my phone, “ — fifteen minutes, and then it’s time for the grand entrance.”

She huffs again, clearly not pleased with my answer. I have an inkling she is one of those moms that has a hard time letting her baby boy go. Though, from what I’ve seen of the bride, she’s not putting up with it, and neither is the groom. The mom won’t take a hint.

She spins away from me, and I watch her to make sure she doesn’t follow as I head in the direction I saw Marissa sneak off to with a plate of cheese and crackers.

Thankfully, she’s pulled in the opposite direction by another guest, so I let out a sigh of relief and make my way back to the bar area.

Jason has rejoined his staff, and Isaac is doing his final rounds of the night before he heads out.

I head over to where he is leaning against the bar, talking with Jason. My phone buzzes on my way over, and I pull it out of the pocket of my slacks. A fresh wave of guilt floods my body when I read the message.

Mom

If you can spare a minute, Presley needs a goodnight call tonight. She’s having a rough day.

I knew that was going to happen. Sometimes, she is fine to go to bed without hearing from me, and other times, she needs a call from me to be able to sleep. I do my best to call regardless when I know I won’t be home at bedtime, but sometimes, things come up.

Me

I should be able to make it work. Did something happen?

Mom

She saw a photo of your dad on the mantel, and asked if he left the way her dad did.

Fuck.

I’ve told her about my dad, her grandpa, and how he passed away and is in heaven, but sometimes that’s a lot for a seven-year-old to grasp.

Mom

I told her no, that he’d passed away, and that’s why he’s not with us anymore.

Me

Shit, Mom. I’m so sorry.

I know how hard it is for my mom to talk about my dad. She grieves the loss of him so much.

Mom

It’s not your fault.

It didn’t end well. She’s so stuck on why her dad isn’t here if he’s not dead. She keeps asking if he didn’t love her.

Me

I’m so sorry, Mom. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that.

Mom

It’s alright, honey. Just… try to call tonight if you can.

Me

I’ll make sure of it. Give me an hour?

Mom

Of course.

“Fallon, as always, wonderful job,” Isaac says, pulling my attention back to the world in front of me.

“Thank you,” I reply, putting my phone face down atop my clipboard. “It’s been a successful day so far.”

“Have a drink,” he says. “Having Blue Ox here is a hit.”

It’s been a hot day, and a cool drink sounds wonderful. “That sounds great,” I say.

I glance up to find Jason’s eyes on mine. There’s something different in his eyes, something I haven’t seen from him. Almost… interest?

“What can I get you?” he asks.

“Umm, what’s your favorite?”

He glances behind him, looking at the taps. “Depends on what you like. Do you want a beer? Or a cider?”

I make it appear like I’m pondering, though really, I’m not a beer girl. I hate beer.

“Cider,” I reply.

Jason smirks, like he knew that’s what I was going to say. He probably did. “Or, I have a hard lemonade you can try.”

I shake my head, ignoring the tug of a memory on the edge of my mind of a Christmas party in a run down college house. “Not a hard lemonade fan anymore.”

“Noted,” he says, giving me a knowing look, like he’s remembering the same thing I am. “Do you trust me?”

I nod, almost breathless at his words. I never thought I would trust a man again, but for some reason with this, I trust him.

He turns, heading back to the taps. He grabs a glass, and fills it with a rich golden colored cider.

He sets it on the bar in front of me, gesturing for me to take a sip.

I lift the glass to my lips, letting the flavor settle on my tongue before I swallow the softly bubbling liquid.

The flavor hits me all at once, and I fight back the groan of pleasure at the taste. “What is that?” I ask. It’s sweet, tart, and so damn good.

“Strawberry Rhubarb,” he replies.

“Holy moly, that’s good.” I take another long sip, loving the flavor. It’s subtle, but so freaking good that I can’t get enough.

“It’s a favorite at the brewery,” he tells me.

“I can see why.”

My phone buzzes again with another text from my mom, and I try to subtly look at it while also keeping my attention on the people in front of me.

I glance down at the message, seeing a photo of Presley.

She’s cuddled up on the couch in a blanket I recognize as one from my childhood with her favorite teddy bear in her arms. The message from my mom reads, cuddled with her favorite.

She’s missing her mom a little extra tonight.

“Everything okay?” Isaac asks.

“Huh?” I ask, distracted. “Oh, yeah. Everything’s fine. Presley is missing me tonight.”

He nods. When I look up again, Jason is looking down at me, a look of almost…

irritation on his face? I don’t know why he’d be irritated, but it rubs me the wrong way.

I take a sip of my cider, and check the time.

It’s about time for the grand entrance, so I really should be on my way to go and find the bridal party.

“I’ll see you guys in a bit, I’m off to get everyone organized.” I wave, taking my drink with me as I go.

“Hi, sweetie,” I say to my daughter. Her cheeks are flushed pink, and tears glisten down her skin.

“Hi,” she says, her voice thick with emotion.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Not really.”

I sigh. “I’m sorry I can’t be there tonight. Want to tell me what made you sad today?” I’m all about making sure she knows that she can tell me any thoughts or emotions she’s experiencing. I should probably take my own advice and talk to someone, but Presley is my focus right now.

"If my daddy didn't die like grandpa then why isn't my daddy here? Doesn’t he love me? Did I do something wrong? Is that why he left?” Presley asks, her tears falling steadily.

God, I wish I could hug her, hold her right now. I need her to know how loved she is. How much I love her.

“Of course not, Presley. You did nothing wrong. I do know that your daddy loved you, and I don’t know why he left the way he did. It hurts, and I’m so sorry.”

My throat thickens, and I try to swallow down some of the emotion clogging it. “But I will never leave you. Ever. I need you to know that.”

She turns her face away from the camera. I understand why she doesn’t believe me when the proof is right there that people do leave, but I don’t know how to get her to understand.

“Lennie has a daddy, but not a mommy. All my other friends at school have both. Why don’t we have both?” Her voice wobbles.

Looking up at the ceiling to try and stifle my own tears, and stop my lip from trembling, I reply, “I don’t know why Lennie doesn’t have a mom, but she has a daddy who loves her so much, like I love you.

I love you, Presley. So, so much. I will do anything I can to make sure you are happy.

I know this is so hard for you, but I’m here. ”

Presley sniffles. “I love you too,” she murmurs. She has so many big emotions. “Can you come lay with me when you get here?”

“Of course,” I tell her, hoping she’s forgiven me at least a little bit.

“Do you have to go?” Presley asks.

“Not for another minute. The bride and groom are dancing, so I have time.” That makes her face light up. Presley is like me. She loves weddings .

“What does her dress look like?” she asks, eyes bright now.