Cross My Heart (A Contemporary Romance Novel)

chest, and he reached over to hug his daughter, harder than he’d ever hugged her before. “More than I’ve ever meant anything.”
    “What are we going to tell Nana?”
    He pulled back and stared at her. “You mean—you really want to move here? To Iowa?”
    She nodded, tears still running down her cheeks. “But I don’t want to hurt Nana.”
    He tried to focus, but his mind was a jumble of thoughts and emotions. “Claire, you should know...before you decide for sure...I don’t know how this is going to go. I don’t know if I’m going to be any good at this. At being your dad.”
    She threw her arms around him. “I’m scared, too,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest. “I’m scared you’ll be disappointed in me all the time, because I’m not like you.”
    “Thank God you’re not like me,” he said, his voice shaking. “Thank God you’re exactly the way you are. I’ve got so much to learn from you.”
    Claire pulled back and knuckled the tears from her eyes. “What about Nana? She’s been so good to me. I don’t want her to think I don’t love her anymore.”
    “She won’t think that.” He thought about it for a minute. “Okay. How about this. Why don’t you fly back to Florida today like we planned, since everyone’s expecting you. You can spend a couple of weeks there. That’ll give you a chance to see everybody, to say goodbye. And to pack, of course.” He took a breath. “I’ll talk to your Nana today, before your plane even lands. Okay? I’ll make everything all right. I promise.”
    “Okay, Dad.” She gave him a watery smile. “I thought about asking to stay, like, a hundred times. But I couldn’t stand the idea that you might say no.”
    “I know the feeling.”
    “I’m so sorry for the things I said last night. I didn’t mean any of it. I was just so miserable—”
    He shook his head. “Don’t worry about that. It’s all forgotten. The only thing that matters is that in two weeks, you’ll be back for good.” He hugged her again, tears stinging his eyes. “I love you so much, Claire.”
    “I love you, too, Dad.”
    * * *
    Jenna watched the sleek BMW pull out of the driveway and felt a hand squeezing her heart. She’d been so sure Michael would ask Claire to stay—that he wouldn’t let her go back to Florida.
    Or maybe he had asked her, and Claire had said no.
    She sighed and went back into the dining room, where she was painting the window trim. Was that why Michael had come by last night? Had he needed someone to talk to?
    It had been good to spend some time with Derek, to see that she really had forgiven him...and that he really was trying to change his life for the better. Both were good things to know, but not at the cost of letting Michael down, if he’d needed her last night.
    He’d be back from the airport in a couple of hours. If he didn’t stop by, she’d go over to his house. One way or another she had to make sure he was okay.
    She got lost in the rhythm of painting, a task she actually loved. She found the back and forth motion of the brush on the wooden trim soothing and hypnotic, especially with Miles Davis in the background.
    She found herself riffing off the music in her head, putting the bones of a song together for the first time in years. She hadn’t written anything since the Mollies broke up.
    Not bad, she thought after a while, smiling to herself as she finished the last window and started painting the chair rail that ran the length of the room. Now for lyrics...
    She let herself free associate, plucking phrases out of the air, keeping some and discarding others. The song took shape gradually until she thought it might be worth writing down. Maybe she should grab her guitar and—
    She heard the back door open. She turned and saw Michael coming towards her, crossing the room with long, determined strides.
    When she saw his expression her heart began to pound. The paintbrush slid out of her hand and landed on the floor.
    He was there in seconds, gripping her shoulders and pulling her flush against him.
    “Did anything happen with Derek last night?”
    She should have been outraged at the question, at the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes. But she wasn’t outraged. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, and she felt her nipples harden. “No. Of course not. I don’t feel that way about him.”
    He eased back the slightest bit. “I hated seeing you with him. When he touched you I wanted to rip his