Page 38 of Can’t Let You Go (Ivy Ridge #3)
JASON
O nce the many games of “Princess Pretty”, or whatever it’s called, is through, I risk a glance at Fallon.
She’s sitting on the couch behind us, chiming in and laughing at the girls as we play.
I noticed her watching me a few times with a small smile on her face every time I earned another piece of jewelry.
I wore each piece with pride. My phone says it’s nearly six o’clock, and Lennie has started to complain about being hungry.
“Should we get home and make supper?” I ask Lennie, and of course, she frowns.
“No, Daddy,” she pleads. “Can we please stay? I want to stay.”
I shake my head. “Sweetie, we should go, we don’t want to overstay our welcome.”
“Actually,” Fallon interjects from the couch. “I already ordered pizza. It should be here soon. I figured we could have a movie night.”
“Really?” I ask, honestly a little surprised. After I spilled everything about Talia, I figured maybe Fallon would want some time by herself to process. It’s a lot. I know that.
“Yeah.” Her cheeks pinken. Her hair is dry now, and she’s braided it while we played, so it’s laying on one side of her neck. The same way it was when I fucked her in the wine cellar. “It should be here in about fifteen minutes.”
The girls cheer in excitement. “Alright girls, can you please clean up the game and go wash up for supper?”
They agree, and start pulling off the plastic jewelry. “Presley, make sure you hang up your dresses in your closet nicely,” Fallon directs.
I stand from the floor, stretching out my body, ignoring the ache in my back.
Fallon heads into the kitchen, and I follow behind her like a lost puppy.
She grabs paper plates from one of the cabinets, and a few glasses for her and I, and plastic cups for Lennie and Presley.
She sets them on the counter, and I stand behind awkwardly.
“Can I help with anything?” I ask.
Fallon jumps, clutching her hand to her heart. Her chest heaves as she catches her breath, and I do my best not to notice the way her breasts rise and fall with each inhale. I fail.
“Sorry,” I state, waving at her. “I should have announced my presence or something.”
She chuckles. “It’s okay. Um, can you bring these to the kitchen table, and I’ll grab the juice and some fruit?”
“Sure,” I say, grabbing the plates and cups from her.
I set them out on the table, and there’s a knock on the door.
“I’ll get it,” I call, and head to the door.
I grab the pizza boxes from the teenage kid and give him a cash tip from my wallet, and head back into the house, setting the boxes in the middle of the table .
“Come and eat,” I call, and footsteps rush down the hall as the two young girls clamor to get to the table.
We eat, the girls talking non-stop about our day, and what they want to do on their next play date.
All the while, I’m stealing glances across the table at Fallon.
She’s invested in the children’s’ conversations, offering interjections every so often.
I note the hint of sadness in her eyes, and her avoidance of my gaze.
Did I ruin this? Did I take something that hadn’t even had the chance to start and taint it with my past trauma?
I didn't want a relationship, not with her, nor anyone, and yet, here I am, stressed about ruining the possibility of something with her.
We finish eating, and the girls help us to clean and store the leftover pizza.
We decide on a movie, and I whip together some “sprinkle popcorn” per the request of Lennie.
Awkwardness settles on my skin once the movie ends, and I’m unsure of whether or not I should stick around, or if I should get Lennie packed up and out the door.
“Daddy, can we have a sleepover?” Lennie’s voice pulls me out of my internal thoughts.
“I don’t think so,” I reply with a grimace.
“Pleeaaase,” she whines. “Presley already asked me if I could, and we’re going to listen really good I promise!”
I sigh, glancing over to Fallon. I’m not going to be the one to make this decision. If Lennie wants to stay over, I don’t mind, but I really don’t want her to feel like she has to say yes.
Fallon has a soft smile on her face. “If your dad says it's okay, then it’s fine with me, Lennie.”
“Really?” Lennie shrieks.
“Really,” Fallon agrees. She glances over to me. “Jase?”
“It’s fine with me if it’s okay with you,” I respond, leaving it ultimately her choice. “I can pick her up in the morning.” Fallon nods. It’s nearing eight now, and it’s close to bedtime for them anyway. “I’ll run home quickly and grab a few things for her?” I offer.
“No need,” Fallon says, waving her hand. “We have plenty of extra pajamas she can wear tonight. Presley, why don’t you and Lennie go pick out some pajamas from your room.”
The girls excitedly stand and run down the hall toward her room, leaving Fallon and I alone. “Are you sure about this?”
Fallon stands from the couch, gathering the popcorn bowls together. “Of course, it’s really no big deal. They’ll be asleep in thirty minutes anyway.”
I stuff my hands into the pockets of my shorts. “Right.” I shift back onto my heels. “I should probably get going then?” I jerk my thumb toward her front door.
“Or you could stay?” Fallon glances up to me with her doe-eyed gaze, and I know I’ll say yes.
Even if I didn’t want to, or didn’t need to spend hours apologizing to her, I would stay.
Much like my daughter, those eyes could get me to do anything.
I would fall to my feet and worship the ground she walked on if she asked me to.
“I can stay,” I agree.
Fallon nods, glancing down at the bowls in her hands, and I note the pink staining her cheeks.