Chapter Six
She barely heard the knock on the door.
For the past week, the city had braved the bad weather that had seemed to roll in and didn't want to leave. Christina had been in somewhat of a bad mood, because the weather had cancelled all of her plans to go outside after school and play with her friends in the neighborhood, but her mother didn't want her braving the wind and constant rain only to return home feeling sick. Being cooped up in the apartment was only part of her bad mood, however. The other contributing factor were the thunder and lightning storms they had almost every night. Andrea thought that after living in Toronto for so long would have helped her daughter's fear of them...and her own, for that matter. They had both spent a few nights huddled in their beds, jumping at the sudden rumbles and flashes.
The sound of the knock was almost consumed by the latest rumble, but her daughter had heard enough to go running for the door. Andrea jumped up to her feet and followed behind her, skidding to a stop in her sock clad feet as Christina tried to reach the high lock on the door. "It's Daddy. He promised he would come," she cried, jumping in an attempt to reach the lock.
Andrea sighed. What was her daughter's reaction going to be when she opened the door, and it was someone trying to sell them a subscription to the Toronto Sun, or something similar, she wondered. She opened the security lock and turned the knob, not wanting to see the look of disappointment on her daughter's face whens he saw who it really was standing there. The door opened, and her eyes widened. His hair and jacket were both damp with raindrops, and his luggage looked like it had seen better days, but it was Jason Reso.
"Daddy!" Christina shouted, throwing herself at his legs. He chuckled as he regained his balance, raising his face to look at Andrea. "You came, you really came."
"Well, I wasn't going to disappoint my little munchkin," he said, although the words were directed at his ex-wife. He smiled and winked at her, choking back his laughter when she turned around.
"You might as well come in, then," she said over her shoulder as she went into the kitchen. He entered the large apartment, looking around as Christina began talking wildly about the past week at school and with her friends. He had never seen the inside of the apartment before, since the last time he had been in town to see his daughter, her mother had dropped her off at the hotel and picked her up at the end of the day. He listened to his daughter's ramblings as he looked around the place, not wanting to admit that he was impressed. The child support that he had deposited into Andrea's account, and her job as a secretary at a real estate office seemed to be enough, which was why he still couldn't understand that comment she had made back in New York, about not being able to afford to take time off of work. He reasoned that maybe it was because she didn't want to lose her job, because they seemed to be more comfortable financially than a lot of single mother's.
Christina's words broke into his thoughts. "So, you're really going to stay here all weekend? I mean, here, at home, right here?"
He grinned down at her, because shrugging off his damp jacket, going to throw it over one of the high backed chairs at the dining room table. "You bet. You've got me all weekend. I don't fly back until Monday morning," he told her. He loved the way that her face lit up at the words, but it only made him realize how right Andrea had been about disappointing her. He would never admit to something like that, no, never, but he knew that it was true.
"Come on, I want to show you my room. Mommy just bought me a new bed, because she said I got too big for the old one," she explained, taking his hand and tugging on it. He left his bags in the living room, hearing Andrea's disgruntled mumbling to herself, as he followed the girl down the hallway. She opened the door that had her name written on it in cursive script, reaching up to turn on the overhead light. "Isn't my bed just the coolest?" she asked, before bounding over to it and jumping on, upsetting the dozen or so stuffed animals piled on it.
"Just the coolest," he echoed dully, looking at it. At least he could fit somewhat on the old bed, if he had pulled his knees almost up to his chin, but there was no way that he was going to be able to fit on that. It was a day bed meant for a child her size, not someone like him. "When did she buy you that one?"
"About two months ago," a smug British voice answered from behind him. He turned around to see the smirk firmly planted on her face. "Christie, why don't you dig up last month's school status report for your father. I'm sure he'd love to know how well you're doing. They're in the bottom drawer of my night stand." She moved aside as her daughter ran out of her room and into her mother's. "Looks like you won't be staying here after all."
He nodded, looking at her. "You had this planned all along, didn't you?" he asked, not waiting for her answer. "Well, I'm sorry to burst your bubble, sweetheart, but I am going to stay here. I promised Christie that I would. Besides, you have that old air mattress. That'll do."
She looked down at her hands and inspected the sheer pink polish on her nails. "Actually, I DID have it, but Adam and Christie popped it last time he was here. Something about a trampoline championship contest. Of course, you're always welcome to attempt the love seat. It's either that, the floor, or you have to stay someplace else."
"I screwed up my back earlier this week. I can't sleep on the floor," he complained.
Her shoulders moved in a languid shrug. "I've always heard that sleeping on the floor is supposed to be good on a person's back. But I gave you your choices. Love seat, floor, or hotel. Go ahead, Jason, pick one. I'm dying to know what your answer is going to be."
"But he promised that he was going to stay here. You promised, Daddy," Christina said suddenly. They both turned to see their daughter standing behind her mother, her little hands shaped into fists. "Why can't he stay with you, Mommy? Your bed is huge. There's lots of room, and then, when we get up in the morning, I'll have my mom AND my dad here. Oh, please, say that he can stay with you. Pretty please."
She brought a hand up to rake through her hair. "With sprinkles on top, I have no doubt."
Jay's smile turned into an evil grin as he realized what that would mean. "And a cherry and everything," he added sarcastically. He motioned for his daughter to come back into the room. "Your mom and I have something to talk about, so why don't you clean up your room, like I'm sure you were supposed to earlier," he added, casting a look at the clothes she had thrown in the corner. "And then I'm going to take a look at that report card, and you have me all to yourself for the rest of the night."
"Okay," she said softly, her eyes directed at the pink carpet. She raised her head and smiled slightly. "But it's called a status report, not a report card."
"All right," he said with a chuckle, before motioning with his head for Andrea to step out of the room. He closed the door behind them, before taking her firmly by the wrist and bringing her down the hallway. They passed an open door to the bathroom, before he opened another closed door. He turned on the light as they entered her bedroom. "What the hell are you doing, Andrea? You're the one that told me to stop breaking my promises to her, and now, you're trying to force me to do that."
She pulled her wrist out of his grasp, glaring at him. "Well, you should have asked me first," she spat back at him. "I can't believe you, Jason. You don't run my life, or Christie's. You don't make the decisions here, I do. This is my house."
"It's an apartment," he pointed out.
"Same damned difference," she hissed. "Where the hell do you get off, trying to force me into letting you stay here. Do you honestly think that I want you here? I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Christie needs her father, but I sure as hell don't need you telling me what to do. I'm fine with you seeing her, but I don't need you here, trying to force yourself into my life. I've been doing just fine without your guidance."
He was stunned momentarily by the anger in her eyes, and the flush that came to her face. He reached out and touched her forearm, just to stop her tirade for the moment. "Look, you asked for a truce in New York, I'm asking for a truce right now. I'm tired and I'm sore, Andie. I really did screw up my back. I landed wrong, and ended up with my lower back on the wrong end of a metal chair. My back is bruised, and I honestly couldn't take the couch or the floor tonight. I wouldn't ask you this if I wasn't in so much pain, but please. If not for me, then for Christie. I don't want to disappoint her anymore."
Slowly, the anger started to leave her, and for a moment, she almost felt guilty. Almost, but he didn't need to know about that, she reasoned. "Is it really that bad?"
His response was a wry chuckle as he turned around and lifted the back of his shirt. She winced when she saw the darkness marring his smooth skin. She had seen marks like that many times when they had been dating, and then when they were newlyweds, and she didn't think she would ever get used to them. She once had no problem dealing with the late nights, the bad pay...but the injuries never got easier to see. He lowered the back of his shirt and turned back to face her. "The flight over here almost killed me. I had to get up and walk around every now and then, because it would lock up. You know what my back is like." She nodded slowly. "Honestly, I'm sorry to put you in this position, but I don't want to risk making it worse than it already is."
"That's why you didn't pick her up when you got here, isn't it?" He nodded. "I can't believe this. I really can't believe it, but I'm actually considering...all right, we'll call a truce. Again. And you can stay here. I'll sleep on the love seat."
"Even you wouldn't fit on that thing," he countered, shaking his head. "You stick to your side of the bed, I'll stick to mine. We're both adults. We slept next to each other for years, I'm sure that three nights aren't going to kill us."
"Sleeping next to each other usually meant me ending up draped all over you."
He shrugged, his smirk returning. "So, like I said, you stick to your side, and I'll stick to mine. And before you get any ideas, keep your hands to yourself, while you're at it."
To his surprise, she answered him with a soft laugh.
Chapter Seven
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