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“Guess what? So am I.” Seth rests his elbow on his bent knee, and heaven help me, but the tenderness in his voice is pretty much going to make me dissolve into a puddle right here in my entryway. “This is the first time I’ve ever done this, so you’ll probably have to tell me if I mess something up, okay? Did I get the right flowers?”
“Uh-huh. They smell super good.”
“Whew.” He wipes the back of his hand across the forehead that’s probably not perspiring. “Good to know. I think that means we’re off to a good start.” He now pulls up the hem of his dress slacks to reveal pink dress socks with the characters ofPaw Patroldotting them. Be still my every lovin’ heart, the man just keeps astounding me. “I noticed you and your brother seem to likePaw Patrol, so what do you think of the socks?”
Well, if there was any doubt before (which there really wasn’t, despite Ella’s nervousness), it’s official: Seth has won Ella over. She’s smiling so big her cheeks might pop. She bends, sets the bouquet on the floor, and wraps her tiny arms around Seth’s neck, burying her face against his skin. I stop the video and slide my phone into my back pocket, because this moment deserves its privacy. Not because it would be seen anywhere other than my phone or Seth’s, but simply because I want to soak it up without holding a device at the same time.
Seth doesn’t hesitate. He wraps his arms around Ella and eases to his feet, where they stay for a long moment, neither saying a single word. They don’t need to. The moment Ella stepped into his arms she wordlessly conveyed that she trusts him, and the way he’s holding her now, her face buried against his neck and his arms supporting her, says he doesn’t take her trust for granted. That he isn’t doing this birthday date to put on a show.
He’s doing it because he cares.
And that right there is the reason I’ve lost my heart to him. I know he’s not into the whole love and marriage and family thing, which has the potential to absolutely crush me if nothing else comes of our relationship, but I don’t care.
Because I realize that I’m not holding out for an Allen.
I’m holding out for a man like Seth.
No, at this point, I’m holding out forSeth.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Seth
Never in my life have I been as nervous as I was when I was walking up to Jenna’s front door earlier this evening. Not the day we went to live with Meredith and Elias (I was scared), not the day I graduated from college (I was excited), and not even on my first call that involved pulling my gun (I was on an adrenaline high.) I was so worried Ella was going to reject me because I wasn’t her father or because the socks I found in Marshall’s drawer were too cheesy.
But as soon as I saw her come down those stairs in her blue sundress with little white flowers all over it, it was like instinct took over. I don’t know how to be a dad—I wasn’t lying when I told Jenna that the other night. That said, something shifted within me as I gave Ella those flowers, as Jenna watched on with Eli on her hip, as I hugged Ella for three minutes straight, as we took a photo together before we left. A new resolve, I think, to prove myself wrong. Sierra might’ve been the one to throw those painful words at me, but it was my choice to believe them all these years.
Just like it’s my choice to prove I do have what it takes, which is part of the reason I want to talk to Jenna later.
But for now, my focus is completely devoted to Ella. If not for the fact that I have to field texts and calls that might be work-related and I’m technically still on call even though my shift ended, I would’ve probably shut my phone off entirely. But since I do have to do that, I’m also capturing our evening through a few pictures so Jen can look through them.
Or maybe I’ll have them all printed out to hang them on my fridge. Yeah, I think I’m already turning into the guy who only has pictures of his kids on his phone, and I’m not even technically part of Jenna and Ella and Eli’s lives like that.
Something I hope will change after tonight.
I took a photo of Ella when her specially ordered birthday cake came after our meal at Farm to Table, capturing the delight in her expression as she smiled at me. Joanna took a photo of Ella and I dancing to the live music—we sat outside tonight under the twinkling lights that’s part of the reason people travel from such distances to eat at Farm to Table—and I don’t know the last time I felt such a genuine smile on my lips. We also had a photo taken together outside the restaurant with our fancy clothes, and I noticed a few selfies Joanna must’ve taken at some point.
Following our meal and Ella’s small birthday dessert, we strolled down Main Street to walk off some of our food. Ella chattered about whatever came to mind, including the fact that she, Alice, and Eli made a slip-n-slide this afternoon and it was “the funnest thing ever.” We eventually landed at Dairy Dock to get our real dessert. I ordered a chocolate fudge brownie sundae and Ella ordered vanilla ice cream with sprinkles, gummy bears, and chocolate syrup. We snapped a selfie with our treats in front of the bright blue building, then hurried around to the docks out back so we could enjoy the sunset from one of the benches available to the public, which is where we are now.
“I told Mommy this was the bestest birthday ever,” Ella declares, licking her melting ice cream. Probably a good thing she went with a dish instead of a cone. “And I think it is.”
I glance down at her. “You think so, huh?”
“Uh-huh. My mommy is happy, too. I’m always happy when Mommy’s happy.” Her little legs swing back and forth, toes dangling at least a foot off the ground. “She got sad when my daddy left, I think.”
I wasn’t expecting that, so I buy myself time to answer by taking a bite of my ice cream. “Is that so?”
Ella nods. “Yeah. Sometimes she looks at the picture by my bed of me and my daddy and I think she kinda wants to cry. That’s when I give her a big hug ‘cause I love her lots.”
“And she loves you lots,” I tell her, still amazed at Ella’s bluntness. No wonder Pete never comes around. His five-year-old daughter probably has more of a backbone than he does. “Do you get sad when you think about your daddy?”
“Well, kinda.” She looks down at her ice cream and her legs stop swinging. “But I kinda, um, don’t remember him very much.”
My jaw clenches. I know Jenna would tell me Pete’s not a bad guy and maybe he’s not, but as far as I’m concerned, there is no reason he needs to be a part of Ella or Eli’s life if he’s not going to be fully invested. But because I don’t need to unload on Ella about that, I decide to say something not directly related to Pete.
“I don’t always remember my dad very much, either,” I say.
Ella looks up at me, her dark brows furrowed. “Really?”
