It was perfect.
I didn’t think he could do any more for me.
And yet… he’s here, and in a million years I didn’t know he would ever do something like this.
It’s the kindest act I’ve ever known. It confirms what I’ve suspected as each day goes by. That Jett is so very special.
And while I’m touched, I’m humbled to have him. I know a woman couldn’t hope for better… but it also scares the shit out of me.
Because the last time I cared for a man like this, he let me down and it nearly destroyed me. I’m not sure I want to risk that again.
At the same time, I can’t imagine letting him go. This is made more so as he approaches Felicity, holding out the flowers. “I heard you were in need of a date to this dance.” She takes the flowers, stares at them with big eyes, and then tips her head back to look at Jett. “Is it cool if I fill in for your dad?”
She just nods, mouth hanging open slightly in shock.
At that moment, a slow song comes on. Something new that I don’t recognize. The DJ says, “Okay dads… grab your pretty daughters and get them on the dance floor.”
Jett hasn’t even looked at me once. He merely takes the flowers from Felicity and hands them off to me, before offering his hand to my daughter. She takes it with a giggle and he turns to lead her to the dance floor.
Pressing a hand to my heart, which is thumping with tenderness and fear mixed together, I watch Jett step up to a plate I never asked him to get near.
My hand flies out, snags his suit jacket at the arm. He finally gives me his eyes.
I lean in, press my lips to the corner of his mouth. “Thank you.”
When he pulls back, he winks. “My pleasure.”
CHAPTER 23
Emory
“Going for a third slice of pizza, huh?” Jenna observes snarkily, as I do indeed lean forward from my perch on the edge of the couch and nab another.
I don’t respond to my sister, rather I take a bite of the New York styled piece of heaven into my mouth and wash it down with a swig of beer.
It’s sister night and we don’t get them often these days. But our go-to food for hanging out is New York style pizza and our favorite beer, and tonight is such a night. Felicity is doing a sleepover at a classmate’s house whose mom coincidentally also works for the Vengeance organization in finance. We’ve become decent friends and the girls even closer since they’re both in the same first grade class.
Jett is at an away game and while the game doesn’t start for a few hours, we have plans to watch it. We just decided to knock the pizza part out of the way as we were both starving, but we’ll continue the beers. It’s a Saturday night and I don’t have to pick up Felicity until noon tomorrow. I can afford to get buzzed tonight with my sister.
Hell, maybe we’ll get drunk.
“Did you call Shane’s parents today?” Jenna asks. It’s the first time we’ve been able to really talk all day as Jenna had some editing deadlines to meet and I went into the office for a bit. Then I ran some errands which included stops at the dry cleaner, grocery store, and the pharmacy.
But yes, I had talked to Shane’s parents since my voicemails and texts to him went unanswered. While I was very confident he was on a drug bender somewhere, I wanted to know if his parents had heard from him in the off chance something terrible had happened—not that using drugs again wasn’t terrible.—He always stayed in touch with them, no matter his circumstances.
“Mary heard from him this morning as a matter of fact,” I say flatly. “She assured me he was fine and then yammered on about how great he was doing.”
“Is he back in L.A.?” she inquires, setting her own slice of pizza back in the box and leaning forward in her chair.
I shake my head. “Mary said he was still here in Phoenix, but he could have been lying to her. Most likely was lying to her, since he told her he was fine and never mentioned bailing on Felicity.”
Jenna makes a low sound of disgust because this is all typical Shane. “Did you tell her he didn’t show up for the dance, checked out of his hotel, and isn’t returning calls?”
“Of course, I did.” My voice is bitter, and the pizza doesn’t look as appetizing. I toss my half slice down into the box as well.
“Let me guess.” Jenna holds up her hands dramatically, doing a really fantastic imitation of Mary’s uppity voice defending her son. “Oh, Emory… I’m sure you’re worrying for nothing.”
I can’t help but snicker. That was Mary’s classic answer to all my worries about Shane. She’s a parent that cannot see through the veneer to the problems below. While she always supported him through rehab, she never really felt his problems were severe enough to warrant it. She was always willing to just believe this was a minor issue. The main reason Mary never gave Shane’s addictions much credence was because she thought it reflected poorly on her and the family name.
“I should have known better,” I mutter before taking another sip of my beer and leaning back into the cushions. I rest the bottle on my belly and pick at the label that’s wet with condensation. “I had actually started to trust him. Trust that he really wanted to be a part of Felicity’s life and was ready to get his own in order.”
“There’s nothing wrong with having hope,” Jenna assures me. “Believing people can be better.”
My eyes slide over to meet hers. “Jett said that to me about Shane when I wasn’t willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Same exact words. It’s okay to hope it will be okay.”
“It’s good advice,” Jenna says with a pointed nod at me.
I widen my eyes with innocence. “What? I do have hope it will be okay. I hope that Shane is fine and that he and Felicity can have a relationship, and that when—”
“Just stop,” Jenna says, showing me the palm of her hand. “You don’t hope that, because in your heart of hearts, you’ve already written Shane off. You’re just trying to do the right thing for Felicity by giving her access to her dad as appropriate. Clearly, the question is, is it appropriate anymore? When I say it’s okay to hope for it to be okay, and Jett says the same, we mean it’s okay to hope for the best but we also mean it’s okay to be prepared for the worst.”
“I am prepared for the worst,” I assure her. “I had hoped it would work out with Shane and Felicity, but I’m not surprised it hasn’t, and not sure it will again.”
“And that’s understandable,” my sister reassures me. “Just don’t let it close you off to the possibility of it again. Shane may very well be in and out of rehab Felicity’s entire life. It’s a horrible potential for her life. But you can always hope that it will be okay, and then surround her with so much love and stability in case it isn’t.”
My sister is younger than me, but she isn’t immature in her wisdom. She’s been through so much pain and has battled things far harder than I have, and I always take her advice to heart. I hear her, I’m just not feeling all that hopeful or benevolent these days where Shane is concerned.
But I don’t want to argue with her. She might say it’s okay to hope for things to be okay, but I think it’s okay for me to assume they won’t be and plan from there. It’s called protecting my child—and myself—from future pain.