“Mama, you staying for the show?”
Again, Chelsea’s hesitant gaze rose to his before dropping to Jordan’s wishful ones.
“You’re more than welcome to stay.”
Chelsea took the hand that Jordan held out for her and allowed herself to be dragged into the living room and deposited on the couch.
“You sit there, and I’ll pick a show.” Jordan skipped to the cabinet and pressed buttons on the remote.
“Okay, we do this one. Daddy, you get it ready for us?”
After selecting the correct episode and making sure the volume wasn’t too loud, he walked back to the couch, then paused. Normally, he sat with Jordan on his lap or at least squished up next to him, but she was already hugging her mother’s side.
About to go sit in the chair, Jordan grabbed his arm and pulled him down onto the couch next to Chelsea, then stood looking at them both like she was trying to figure out where she should sit.
“Daddy, move closer to Mama, so I can sit on both your laps.” The child waved in the air, showing him which direction to go. Bossy little thing. Could he be that close to Chelsea and still breathe?
Jordan wiggled into his lap, scooted half onto Chelsea’s, then squirmed some more. Had she realized it wasn’t comfortable? Maybe she’d let him move away.
“Daddy, your arm. You needa move it. Put it up there.” She motioned to the top of the couch, right behind Chelsea’s shoulder.
Following orders, he slid his hand along the back of the couch and felt Chelsea stiffen. Was she that uncomfortable so close? They used to sit like this all the time, snuggled up together on this same couch, watching TV.
As Jordan bopped along to the music the cartoon characters were singing, Chelsea watched her, studied her like there would be a test later. Meanwhile, his eyes were glued to the woman he’d spent the last five years dreaming about, imagining she’d finally come home to them. And now that she had, he didn’t know what in the world to do.
Crap. He was in a bigger mess than he thought.
A fidgeting Jordan told him when the show was over. “Time for bed, kiddo.”
Jordan raised pleading eyes to him. “Mama help put me to bed?”
Did the little girl think Chelsea was here to stay? In this house with them? Or was she afraid Chelsea would vanish at the stroke of midnight? Would she? It was something he wanted to know, too.
“Do you mind?” he asked the mesmerizing woman next to him. “I have a feeling she’ll get worked up if you don’t.” She was wired any way you looked at it, but this way maybe they could at least get her settled in her room.
“Of course not. Delighted to.” That smile again, it stopped his heart. He only wished there wasn’t so much sorrow tinged in.
As he herded Jordan up the stairs, he tried not to focus on the woman who followed slowly behind him. Jordan didn’t need much in the way of directions tonight. Bouncing around from place to place, she showed her mom the bedtime routine, from pajamas to teeth brushing to the nightly story.
“Sometimes Daddy tells me a story, like the Mama one I told you.”
Jordan had told Chelsea the mama story? What would she possibly make of that? Grabbing a book, he pushed it into Chelsea’s hands.
“Read her this one. It’s a favorite.”
Normally, he’d be hurt if Jordan wanted someone else to read her to sleep. It was their routine, after all. But with all that had happened today, it was a relief.
Chelsea’s soft tones floated on the air and wove a magic around both him and Jordan. The child relaxed, and her eyes drifted closed. It had been a busy, exciting, emotional day for her, too. Meeting her mother for the first time wasn’t exactly a common thing.
Even with Jordan’s eyes closed and her breathing deep, Chelsea continued to read the book as if she didn’t want to break a spell. He was under that spell, too. When the last page was done, Chelsea sat watching their child for a few minutes.
He leaned down and kissed Jordan on the forehead, then smoothed back a stray lock of hair from her cheek. “Night, peanut. I love you.”
As he moved back, Chelsea pressed her lips to their daughter’s cheek, whispering her own words of endearment. When she stood, her eyes were filled with tears again.
He couldn’t help himself. Cradling her close, he stroked her hair. What he wanted to do was kiss her. Kiss those sweet lips that had taunted him all day, heck all week, and never let her go. But he knew that would open flood gates he’d been trying to keep closed for four years.
Theo’s embrace stirred up a myriad of feelings Chelsea hadn’t had in years. Her instinct was to curl in closer, but most likely he was simply comforting her.
