“You came here for answers, Shan.” His voice was soft and rough at the same time. “And I don’t have answers. I don’t have a plan or a schedule for this. You think I left you without a thought and that’s far from the truth. But you want more of me than I can give. You always have.”
“No, I—”
“I’m Emma’s father and I won’t abandon her. But there’s not enough of me for you too. Don’t you understand that?”
“Then what the hell just happened? Maybe if you helped me understand…”
“I can’t. You’d better go.”
Her thoughts, her senses were all jumbled up and she couldn’t make heads or tails of what had just happened. “About Saturday…I’m not comfortable with you taking Emma to the air show on your own. I think it’s too soon.”
“I never meant to take her by myself. The invitation was for both of you. Although that seems to be a mistake now, considering what just happened.”
Shannyn paused, still trying to regain her balance. Ma
ybe if she could get him in another element. One more like the life he was comfortable with. Maybe then he’d open up a little, help her understand. This yo-yoing back and forth left her more confused each time. “It’s a simple outing. Let’s not make it more complicated than it has to be. If Emma agrees, we’ll both go with you.”
“If I’m going to build a relationship with her, we need to spend time together.”
“I’m sorry if me coming with the package makes it difficult.”
He smiled at her, but it wasn’t warm. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not my feelings that matter. She’ll be more secure with you there with her, too.”
Shannyn blinked. Somehow Jonas still had the ability to surprise her. His insight into Emma’s feelings, even after their argument—and their kiss—was incredibly thoughtful.
“In the future, it might be good if you asked if we were busy or if it’s a good time to visit. And I’ll do my best to accommodate.”
Jonas nodded. “I appreciate it.”
“We’re both feeling our way around, Jonas. Let’s just give it time.”
“Time,” he echoed, going to the door and opening it for her. Letting her know it was time to go even as her body still hummed from his touch.
She’d had six years of time. Six years of resenting him for leaving and six years of remembering what it was to love him.
Now he was back—and seemingly for good.
Dealing with that wasn’t anything that time could cure.
“I’ll see you Saturday,” she offered weakly, grabbing her purse.
“One o’clock,” he repeated.
When he’d shut the door behind her, she pressed her fingers to her lips. And knew that despite her best intentions, she was leaving with more questions than answers, and a need that had gone unsatisfied for too long.
Chapter 8
She’d forgotten about his therapy appointment. After Jonas had discovered Emma was his, it had seemed pointless to change therapists, and when she’d reminded him briefly about the paperwork not being completed, he’d answered with a terse “never mind.” Avoiding each other was no longer an option.
Thursday, when she checked the morning’s files, his name was there, and just seeing it sent a little thrill through her. A flutter in her tummy, a smile on her lips.
Oh no, she cautioned herself. Remembering the past was one thing, but getting fluttery and silly after a kiss was another matter altogether.
Kissing him had been shocking. Not because he’d done it—there was enough chemistry sizzling between them lately it seemed inevitable now that she looked at it in hindsight—but the way the brief contact had affected her had thrown her for a loop. Her fingers ran possessively over the white label on his file. She’d wanted him. She wasn’t sure she would have stopped if he hadn’t put on the brakes.
She couldn’t help but wonder what it meant. In one breath they’d been arguing. Her words—how on earth would I know?—had precipitated it. Did it mean he hadn’t been as flippant about leaving as she’d thought? Did he have regrets of his own? Or had it just been the frustration of the moment bubbling over?
She put the file back on the stack of morning appointments, letting her fingers linger over the brown material. His kiss was exactly the same as it had been years before. He tasted the same. The feel of his lips on hers ached with familiarity. She’d tried to dismiss all the signs. Credit the past for the long looks they’d shared or her reaction to his scorching touches. Blaming the flutters on simple nostalgia and the fact that they shared a daughter. But actually kissing him again, touching him, had been a turning point that she couldn’t ignore.