Page 52 of This Time Around (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #3)

Allie returned her gaze to the birdhouse as a soft warmth spread from her chest through her limbs. She took in the craftsmanship, the detail, the thought that had gone into something so utterly simple yet so completely beautiful.

“I have to go.” She turned and ran into the house.

“What kind of wine would go best with this dinner?”

Jack looked at Paige, then down at his bowl of mac and cheese. “Pepto-Bismol?”

“No,” Paige said, with a dramatic eye roll. “Come on, Daddy. You’re not doing it right.”

The story of my life , Jack thought.

But at least his kid was trying to connect with him, so he did his best to rally. “Let’s see ... how about a Chardonnay? Cuddly with overtones of deer scat, Elmer’s glue, and shavings from the floor mat in a 1968 Oldsmobile Cutlass.”

Paige erupted into laughter, and Jack felt better. Not great, but better. He might not have won back the woman of his dreams, but he did have the best kid on the planet.

He shoveled up a bite of pasta. Admittedly this meal was not one of his shining moments of parenting, but he’d had a busy week.

Researching the best possible domicile for a northern flicker woodpecker had been time-consuming enough, but building it to the precise specifications he needed had taken a good chunk out of his week.

Paige had helped, and they’d worked together between schoolwork and visits with Grandma at her new apartment.

Paige had been the one to paint it, her small brush skimming over the arched top of the tiny shutters as she’d smiled up at him with a smear of yellow on her cheek.

No matter what, he had that memory. Plenty of others, too.

“Chardonnay’s good,” Paige said. “Or maybe a Merlot. It would be crusty with hints of bubblegum and the fuzz off a tennis ball.”

“Very nice,” Jack said, and held up his plastic cup of orange juice to toast her.

“Thank you.” Paige grinned and spooned up the last bite of her dinner. “May I please clear my plate?”

“After you eat two more slices of apple.”

She shoved both in her mouth at the same time, then stood up and headed toward the kitchen.

“Don’t forget to rinse the bowl before you put it in the dishwasher,” he called.

“Roger that,” she said, saluting him from the doorway. It was a phrase Jack had heard Wade utter countless times, and hearing it from his daughter should have annoyed him. Instead, he just felt empty. Jesus, was it possible he missed Wade, too?

Paige had just set her bowl on the counter when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” she yelled, halfway to the door before Jack had a chance to finish chewing his too-large bite of mac and cheese. He wasn’t expecting company, and his stomach did a stupid flip at the thought that it could be Allie.

But that seemed impossible. He’d put up the birdhouse four days ago, sneaking over when he knew she’d be at work and Skye had class. For the first couple days, he’d waited. Allie wasn’t the most observant person in the world, so maybe she needed time to notice.

But after four days, it seemed clear she was still angry.

Angry or hurt, probably both. She had every right to be.

She’d spilled her guts and he’d shot her down.

She’d shown him how to see the best in things, and he’d insisted on pointing out the worst. She’d tried to reach out to him and he’d ignored her like a big, grudge-holding ass.

Was a birdhouse really going to fix all that? ”

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“There’s no one at the door, but there’s an envelope with your name on it.”

“Can you bring it here?”

She trotted across the living room and deposited it on the table in front of him. Goosebumps pebbled his arms the second he saw his name scrawled on the pink paper in Allie’s swoopy, cursive script.

“What is it?” Paige asked.

“I’m not sure.” He grabbed his butter knife and slit it open, heart thudding in his ears. A single piece of paper fell into his lap. Jack picked it up with fingers that felt numb and useless.

“What does it say?” Paige leaned close, and Jack angled the card away from her to shield the words. He didn’t know what to expect, what he might have to explain to Paige after all this. He needed to see the message for himself first.

But as he took in the words, a slow smile spread over his face. He read them twice, just to enjoy the lovely lilt of her cursive across the pale pink paper.

“I’m super thankful,” he read aloud. “Go look in the tank(ful).”

Paige frowned. “What does that mean? Like a fish tank? We don’t have a fish tank.”

Jack stood up. His heart raced, with his brain just a few steps behind. Tank? Like a piece of military equipment? Tank top? Toilet tank? She wouldn’t have risked sneaking into the house for a treasure hunt, so it had to be something outside?—

“Gas tank,” he said, and hurried out the front door.

Sure enough, there was another small envelope taped to the inside of the fuel door covering his car’s gas tank.

This one was white with little roses along the top and his name was scrawled in the same loopy script across the front.

He yanked it off and ripped it open faster this time, tearing the corner of a rose-flecked card.

“‘You’re pretty adorable,’” he read. “‘Go look by the doorbell.’”

Paige cocked her head to the side and leaned over his elbow to read the words for herself. “I’m not sure that really rhymes,” she said, but Jack was already running back toward the front porch.

He spotted the pale yellow envelope tucked up under a shingle, which is probably why he hadn’t seen it before. He snatched it with shaking hands and tore it open to read the words aloud.

“‘I love you still. So damn much, Jack. Go look in the rosebush.’”

“That really doesn’t rhyme,” Paige said. “She could have tried windowsill .”

A familiar laugh rang out from the edge of the house, and Jack looked up to see Allie stepping out from behind the rosebush. She wore a green sundress and a killer smile. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders, and the setting sun made a halo behind her.

“I could have used you an hour ago, Paige.” She smiled at his daughter, then slid her gaze to Jack’s. He felt the full force of it deep in his gut. “I’m not much of a poet, as you may recall.”

“It’s perfect,” he said, hardly daring to move. He couldn’t believe she was standing here in front of his house looking pale and nervous and so damn beautiful he couldn’t breathe. “ You’re perfect.”

Her laugh was sharper this time. “Definitely not. But at least I can admit that. I can admit it and work on it and try to do better each time.”

“I can do that, too,” he said, taking a step toward her. “I’m sorry, Allie.”

“So am I.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize that people need to handle things in their own way,” he said.

“That there’s a time for the coldest, hardest, truest version of a story, and a time a for the one that just lets you get up in the morning and put your clothes on and brush your teeth and go about your day until you can deal with the other version. ”

Allie shook her head, and he watched her throat move as she swallowed. “I’m sorry, too,” she murmured, tears glittering in her eyes. “For a lot of things. But mostly for not trusting you with the truth. For not trusting myself with it. I’ve been working on that.”

“I know,” he said. “I saw the newspaper.” He’d almost reached her now, and he held out his hand palm up. She laced her fingers through his, and Jack pulled her closer. “We’ve got plenty of time to talk about who’s the sorriest and how we plan to do better.”

Allie squeezed his fingers with hers, then looked at Paige. “Is this okay with you? If your dad and I date each other again?”

“Uh-huh,” she said. “He’s been very grumpy.”

“Thank you for the birdhouse,” she said, then turned her gaze back to Jack. “Both of you.”

“Does it work?” he asked. “Are they leaving your house alone?”

Allie nodded. “They’ve moved in already. No one’s heard a bird pecking for days. Who knew that’s all it took?”

“Paige did,” Jack said, reaching over to ruffle his kid’s hair.

“I read it in my bird book,” the girl said. “We found the plans online for a flicker house. We got the right bedding in there and everything.”

“Smart kid,” Allie said.

“About a lot of things.” Jack watched his daughter’s chin tilt with pride, and his own pride swelled so big in his chest that it nearly cracked his ribs.

He lifted Allie’s hand to his lips and planted a kiss across her knuckles. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me, too.” Her eyes flashed with sunlight and the green sundress fluttered in the breeze.

“Are you guys going to kiss now?” Paige asked. “Like for real. None of that hand-kissing stuff.”

“We’ll get to that eventually.” Jack’s fingers stayed linked with Allie’s, but he reached up and brushed a windswept bit of hair off her forehead. “I’ve been reading about your mom’s appeal. The headlines make it sound pretty dramatic. Your dad’s laying it all out there.”

“It’s been a busy couple weeks,” Allie said. “It’s going to get messy, but he’s trying to do the right thing. That counts for something.”

“It does,” he agreed. He let go of her hand and slid his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. Breathing in the Chardonnay scent of her hair, he had to remind himself she was really here.

That he was really holding her again. Her arms cinched around his waist, and they stood there holding each other so tight he felt his ribs shift.

But Jack didn’t need to breathe deeply. He just needed this, right here, right now.

“You guys want to be alone?” Paige asked.

“Nope.” Allie drew back and stretched out an arm. “You should be part of this, too. Group hug!”

Paige giggled and wrapped her arms around both of them, and they stood there on the edge of the driveway like some mutant three-headed creature made of tangled limbs and twisted hearts.

When Jack finally pulled back, he looked down at the two amazing females who made his heart feel whole. “So we’re all in this together?”

“Uh-huh,” Paige replied, then craned her neck to look at Allie. “You good with that?”

“I’m good with that,” Allie said, then stood on tiptoe to kiss him.