“Jesus, what that man does to me,” I whisper out loud once I hear the shower start.
“I heard that,” he groans, and I turn around. He’s in the shower, water sluicing down his body, and this time if I don’t leave, I’ll be the one begging for more no matter how sore I’ll be.
I scurry into the bedroom, quickly changing the sheets before Jamie gets out of the shower. I make a mental checklist of everything I wanted in a guy, and hand to God, Jamie meets all of the requirements. He’s amazing with my daughter, he makes his own money, and he’s not a dick. Okay, that last one, he may have been for a long time, but he’s redeemed himself. Not to mention, I can see the affection he holds for Clairabella, a fact that shows every time they’re around each other. Both of them go off in their own little world. Presley and Lyla were a little concerned with how I would take it at first, but it was the most precious thing in the world; there was no room for jealousy.
The big task will be when he finally meets my parents. I need that to happen sooner rather than later. With Claira talking about Jamie non-stop, I saw the way my mom’s eyes lit up and the apprehension in my father’s.
I’m starting to drift off to sleep, closing my thoughts down when Jamie slides into bed beside me. His arm comes under my neck, and I go to roll over, but his chest presses against my back, his warmth giving me peace and comfort all at once.
“Goodnight, Jaime,” I say on a yawn.
“Goodnight, Mi Sol,” he murmurs before kissing the side of my neck. The last thought on my mind is that I could get used to falling asleep in his arms and never leaving.
18
Jamie
I knew today could make or break our relationship. I’d never allow Callie to choose between her parents or me. In a perfect world, her father wouldn’t want to kill me for being the asshole I once was, but I’m sure words will be said, and if I put myself in his shoes, I couldn’t blame him.
“You ready?” Callie touches my arm as we walk inside her parents’ house. Lyla dropped Claira off earlier today so she could spend the day with them.
“Of course.” I open the front door for her.
“Mom, Dad, Claira,” she yells while we walk into her childhood home. I take in everything I can, the pictures on the wall of Callie and Claira, both of them always with wide smiles and happy faces.
“We’re in the back den,” I hear a man state. If he doesn’t think I’m good enough for his girls, well, the truth is I know he’d be right. No one will ever be perfect for them, myself included.
We walk in, and Callie’s dad is sitting in a recliner. Her mother is on the floor, playing baby dolls with Claira. When she sees her mother and me, Claira darts up, squealing, “Momma, Mr. Jamie, you’re finally here!” I figured she would head straight to Callie first, but she doesn’t. Claira runs right up to me, lifts her arms, and I pick her up as she hugs my neck.
“Mi Princessa, were you good for your auntie?” I ask, her hands squishing my cheeks together.
“I’m always good.” Her eyes, so much like Callie’s, flutter, and my smile broadens.
“That you are. I think your momma may want a hug.” Callie is standing beside me, and Claira launches herself toward her, wrapping her body around her mom.
I watch for a few seconds, taking in the bond the two of them share. I’m always surprised that I’m included in their moments.
“You must be Jamie. I’m Nancy, and this is my husband, Joe. We’ve heard so much about you,” Nancy says. I go to shake her hand, but she doesn’t allow it. She pulls me in for a hug instead.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I respond. Callie’s father is standing beside us now, and I hold my hand out to shake it.
He’s hesitant at first. “I’m Joe. It’s nice to meet you, Jamie.”
“It’s nice to meet you as well.” Claira wiggles out of Callie’s arms, going back to what she was doing before we arrived.
“Well, this isn’t awkward or anything,” Callie says, breaking the ice as she hugs her parents. Her mom laughs, which in turn has us all laughing.
“Mr. Jamie, will you play with me?” Claira asks. I don’t care how old you are, what you do for a living, or how much money you make a year. When a little girl asks you to play baby dolls with her, you play baby dolls with her.
Callie’s eyes swim with tears, and I lightly touch her cheek, my thumb trailing a path until it gets to her pulse point. She nods, and I kiss her forehead then head toward Claira.