“Two meatballs, please.” Looking at Chelsea, Jordan explained, “Sometimes I forget to use manners. But I’m weally a good girl. I won’t forget again.”
The child’s eyes looked anxious for a moment. Was she afraid her mother would leave if she wasn’t a perfect little angel? Would Chelsea leave? God, he wished he knew.
“We all forget things sometimes,” Chelsea assured her, smiling that killer smile that had his knees buckling. Good thing he was sitting down.
When he scooped two meatballs onto Jordan’s plate and began to cut them, she grabbed his hand.
“Daddy, I want Mama to cut my food, please.”
“Okay, peanut.”
His gaze searched Chelsea’s face, but she simply picked up her silverware and cut the spaghetti and meatballs into smaller pieces.
“Is this good?” Now, Chelsea was the one who seemed anxious.
Jordan responded by gobbling up a forkful. Halfway to her mouth, she paused and mumbled, “Thank you, Mama.”
“You’re very welcome, baby.”
Their little girl’s face twisted. “I not a baby. I almost four.”
“I know, but you’re still my baby.” Pain flashed across her face showing how much the deception had hurt.
After a few more bites, Jordan paused again, a strand of pasta hanging from the corner of her mouth. “See, Daddy? You don’t needa worry about your heart anymore—cause Mama’s here with it.”
Heat rushed across his face as he sought Chelsea’s reaction. Luckily, she was concentrating on her meal. Was she trying to save his pride or embarrassed, because she no longer felt that way about him?
Jordan kept the meal from being totally awkward with her incessant chatter. Usually, he joined in, asking questions about her day, but it seemed today she was on a mission to fill her mother in on everything she ever remembered doing. Chelsea was absorbing every piece of information and almost salivating for more.
It wasn’t right to be jealous. He’d had his daughter’s,theirdaughter’s, attention exclusively for years and now someone else was her hero. It was hard standing down from what he considered his job.
Once finished, he grabbed his plate and Jordan’s. Chelsea jumped to her feet and picked up hers.
“Let me help.”
“I’ll get the dishes. You’re a guest.” Her stricken expression dug into his chest, but the fact was she didn’t live here anymore and hadn’t in a long time. And it had been her choice. Hadn’t it?
“Jordan, you need to clean up your playroom if you want a show before bed. Wash your face first. You’re covered in spaghetti sauce.” What would Chelsea do? Go with the little girl or stay here and talk to him? Was it pathetic to want her to stay with him?
“I’ll help her.” Before he could argue, she’d trotted off with Jordan toward the bathroom. The water sounded and some giggling, then more footsteps toward the front of the house.
The dishes and clean up didn’t take that long. However, he moved slowly to allow the girls time together. Every now and then, some squeals and laughing floated out, and he couldn’t help but grin. Jordan’s laugh was infectious. There was no way her mother could resist it.
After wiping his hands and checking that everything was tidy, he wandered to the playroom and froze. It hadn’t been this clean in…forever. Every little toy piece had been picked up, and all the games and books were sorted onto shelves.
“Daddy, look! It all clean,” Jordan yelled when she saw him hovering in the doorway.
“I can see that. Did you do this all by yourself?” His gaze took in Chelsea as she tucked some of the dollhouse furniture back inside the large structure.
His daughter’s impish grin split her face. “Mama helped me. We had a wace, but we had to make a plan first. And we did it all.” Her arms spread wide as she twirled around.
“Thank you,” he said to Chelsea, who stood wringing her hands, her face unsure. “And you, peanut, should say thank you to your mom, too.”
“Thank you, Mama,” Jordan yelled as she hopped over to her mother and jumped into her arms. Immediately, Chelsea wrapped their daughter in a hug and buried her face in the girl’s hair. Any doubts he had regarding Chelsea’s feelings toward their child were dispelled.
Giving them a minute, he peeked around the room. Maybe it wasn’t quite as pristine as he’d first thought. Many things were hastily shoved on shelves or in the toy box. Still, it was a better sight than usual.
“Are you ready for a show? There’s enough time for a short one before it’s time to get ready for bed.”
