CHAPTER 19
Jason
“C an we watch all three movies please, Daddy?” Eden rests her head on my shoulder, her demeanor more upbeat than the last twenty-four hours.
“We’ll see.” I don’t care if we stay up all night. I’m just relieved Valentina is on her way over.
We’re seated on one sofa, the boys on the area rug, consoles in hand, their thumbs moving as they add details to their Minecraft house. My gaze keeps drifting through the window for a flash of lights to announce Val’s arrival. A steady downpour drums against the pavement. I need to be ready to meet her with an umbrella so she doesn’t get drenched on her way in.
“I can’t wait to watch the Chronicles of Narnia,” Eden chirps, having read the books Valentina gave her—all six in two weeks. According to Eden, Valentina will be bringing three of the movies from the book series.
“Why did you say I don’t like Valentina?” What if Valentina thinks I loathe her?
“You yelled at her.”
Right, it’s black and white. I was unjustly mad at Valentina after Eden’s lie and my fear of what could’ve been.
I tap Eden’s nose to lighten the moment. I can’t bring this back to her when she’s already apologized. “I haven’t been friendly to many people... and that includes Valentina.” Mostly to Valentina, actually.
Bright light spills through the window in my peripheral, and Eden hops from the sofa. “Val’s here.”
Her action propels me to my feet. Nerves flutter in my stomach as I rush to the hallway and grab the umbrella. I hadn’t realized the boys abandoned their game until they dart past me. I catch them as they swing the door open, restraining their excitement. “We have to wait until she parks her car.”
Thankfully, they listen, bouncing their toes on the edge.
Once she parks, we all rush out, kids bounding ahead. I try to catch up, the rain washing over my face—perhaps cleansing some of my past missteps as well. We reach her car as she swings the door open. Then I open the umbrella, not sure why I forgot to use it myself, but I shield her and the kids while they cling to her.
She laughs and pulls them into a group hug. “I missed you too.”
“Let’s not knock her down,” I call out over the rain. The rain droplets on my tongue are refreshing. The air smells clean mingled with her flowery fragrance, and warmth radiates through me. The porch light illuminates her smile, lighting up my heart. She’s stunning in her olive-green overalls over a cream shirt, as refreshing as the spring—a time of new beginnings.
“Let’s get you inside, okay?”
At my prompt, she disengages from the kids’ embraces, and jealousy twinges. No fair that the kids can hug her so freely, and I—
What am I thinking?
“I need to get something from the car.” She spins away.
“Hold this.” I offer her the umbrella, whispering close enough for her to hear over the rain. “I’ll get your bags if you want to head in with the kids.”
Her eyes search mine. There’s no lightning with this rainstorm, but the moment feels charged with more than gratitude.
“Thank you.” A note of something deeper, hope perhaps, imbues her soft voice.
We stand only inches apart, my heart thundering. I pretend to read her mouth through the rain, but truthfully, my gaze is drawn to her sweet bowed lips. Oh, how round and inviting they look!
“Hadn’t expected quite a welcome.” Her comment pulls me back from my thoughts, and I jolt a step back as well, then swallow, trying to steady my reaction when our hands touch as she takes the umbrella.
She leads the kids to the house. I hurry to the passenger side to grab her bags, moving as quickly as I can from the driveway to prevent everything from getting soaked. Okay, an anxious desire to return to her also fuels my actions.
The following minutes blur. Valentina and Eden disappear into Eden’s room with the bags. I change into dry sweats and a T-shirt, then microwave popcorn—the boys’ snack request for our movie-binge night.
When Valentina and Eden return, the twins buzz, talking over each other to ensure Valentina isn’t leaving, and they include her in everything, even extending an invite to her for the upcoming trip with our friends.
We soon settle into the dimly lit living room where the kids fight for seats, each wanting to be as close to her as possible. Apparently, they’ve had enough of me.
“There’s enough room for everyone.” She shifts to the center of the sofa to create room around her. Eden is curled on Valentina’s right, the boys on her left. Felix lets Atticus sit next to her after securing a promise that next movie he’ll be the closest. I sit on a nearby chair, and no one offers me a place in the queue for a turn at her side.
When the movie starts, the flickering screen captures the kids’ attention. Still, they giggle and squirm. The earlier tension dissipates, absorbed by the shared warmth of family time until we’re like a complete unit watching The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe .
During Prince Caspian , the second movie, Eden rests her head on Valentina’s arm, and my heart further lifts.
Now and then, I steal glances at Valentina. Each time, she catches me. She half smiles and bites her lower lip as if stifling a laugh that still manages to warm my heart. Am I forgiven?
At one point, under the TV’s dim glow, our eyes meet. I only manage a whispered thanks, but the space between us, though separated by Eden, is still charged with unspoken words. I need a moment with her to offer an apology.
By the time Prince Caspian ’s end credits roll, Eden’s breathing has deepened, her weight shifting more into Valentina, who has her arm over my daughter’s shoulder in a protective cushion that unfurls my heart. Also asleep, Felix leans heavily against Valentina too. Atticus, having had his turn beside her for the first movie, is now sprawled on the side of the sofa, his head on the armrest.
“That’s what you get for being popular.” I stand and bend over Valentina, then slide my hands under Eden’s back to lift her.
“I like being popular.” Her voice carries a hint of something deeper, something unspoken that resonates in the space between us.
My hands brush over hers and against the soft cotton of her overalls as I disentangle Eden from her. She smells so heavenly I’m distracted, but I keep my focus on my daughter. The moment I look at Valentina, my eyes will betray me and reveal my attraction—worse if I look at her lips.
The fleeting touch quickens my pulse, so I’m grateful to head down the hall to Eden’s room. With my face heated, I just hope she didn’t see how affected I was.
I remain composed when I return to get the twins, taking one at a time to their room. By the time I come back, ready to talk, ready to address this tension, she’s nowhere in sight. The empty sofa where she sat moments ago mirrors the emptiness in the room, leaving me relieved and disappointed.
I move to the kitchen, run a hand across my face, and brace against the counter, ignoring the twinge at her absence.
The time on the stove lights up 12:35. I can see her tomorrow and talk then. Does an apology need to be a big deal? But for all I know, she could be getting ready to leave. Quit.
That’s what I wanted her to do before I rehired her. But things are different.
Not just because of how she affects me. In a way, I’m not ready to admit my attraction toward her. I went down that route in the past, and look where it led me—with my wife leaving us and never looking back. She ended up with one of Family Sphere’s silent partners. I never asked whether their relationship started before or after our divorce.
As for Valentina, in mere months, she’ll be on her way to her next job or whatever broadcast snatches her. She’s confident, intelligent, and likable. Anyone would want her around.
I glance toward the hallway and the light filtering out under her bedroom door.
She wants nothing to do with me. Resigned but needing to speak with her, I take one step, then another toward the hall and her door. My heart lodges in my throat. I press my knuckles against the solid wood for a moment. I need to settle things and ensure she’s here to stay longer than today for the kids. I lift my knuckles and tap on the door.