What the Heart Wants (What the Heart Wants, #1)(84)
“Do you still love him?”
“Most of him.” She covered her eyes with her hand.
Lolly touched her arm in sympathy. “I’m sorry I brought it all up, Laurel. You’ve been so kind, putting up with me. I don’t want to upset you.”
“You needed to know.” And maybe she needed to hear herself say it too. Her father had been two people, and she had the same dilemma Jase did—how could she separate the good that was in her father from the bad?
*
Lolly returned to the den after lunch and lay on the couch, listening to her iPod, watching TV, and making notes on a tablet Laurel had supplied.
Laurel popped in and out of the room between cleaning up the kitchen and tending to laundry, then settled down in the big leather armchair with Jane Austen.
Lolly looked up. “I want to talk to Dad.”
“When do you want him to come over?”
“Tomorrow morning.” She looked at her notes. “That’ll give me time to decide what I want to say.”
Laurel held the phone out to Lolly, but she drew back.
“Couldn’t you talk to him for me, Laurel?”
“No, honey. You need to do this yourself.”
Lolly swallowed as though it hurt and reached for the phone. “Okay.”
She pushed the buttons carefully and out the phone to her ear. “Dad? I’m ready to see you…No, not tonight…How about tomorrow morning, maybe about ten?”
Chapter Nineteen
Laurel’s nerves tightened like piano wires as she and Lolly walked down the stairs to wait for Jase.
A vision flitted through her mind of Jase throwing himself at her feet, begging forgiveness for abandoning her, and promising they would never part again. She gripped the newel post to steady herself. Why was she torturing herself with fantasies like this?
Lolly glanced over at her. “Laurel, you okay? You looked sorta funny there for a second.”
“No problem. I’m just fine.” Not really. She was more uptight about Jase coming to the house than Lolly was.
God help her, how could she make herself stop loving him?
“Well, I like the way that dress fits you, and peach is your color.”
Laurel glanced down a herself. “This old thing?”
She knew the sleeveless shift looked good on her, and she hoped it would remind Jase of what he was missing, but she didn’t want to be too obvious about it. “I’ve had it for ages.”
They walked into the drawing room and took seats across from each other, Laurel on the ribbon-back chair that should have long since been hauled off to the antiques man, and Lolly on the sofa.
Lolly glanced down at her tie-dyed tee. “Thanks for loaning me the clothes.”
“Sorry the hem and waist had to be safety-pinned.” Lolly not only had the tiny waist of an hourglass figure, but she was also a good eight inches shorter than the skirt was designed for.
“I’m just glad you have stuff I can wear. I hope you burned that awful pink dress.”
“It was really rather pretty, honey. I’ll get it cleaned and send it to Dallas for you, if you want.”
Lolly shuddered, causing her curly doggie ears to bounce. “No. Donate it to Goodwill or something. I usually never wear things like that anyway. It’s just that I thought…”
“I understand.”
“I’m keeping the necklace and earrings, though. Aunt Maxie gave them to me last Christmas.”
Laurel nodded, rising as she heard a car in the driveway. “I think your dad’s here. Are you ready?”
Lolly caught a quick breath. “Maybe.”
“You’ll do fine.” One thing was for sure: It was hard for her to face her father, but she wasn’t backing out.
Laurel walked into the hall, opening the front door as Jase stepped onto the porch. Her heart fluttered. In jeans and long-sleeved shirt, he looked like the quintessential western hero. And judging by the mud he was scraping off his boots, he must have been checking out properties in the morning sun again. How Texas could you get?
He swept his hat into his hand and took off his dark glasses as he stepped into the foyer. His eyes checked out the shadowy hall. “Where’s the canine?”
“Hugo? I thought it would be better for him to stay outside while you and Lolly talk.” Laurel closed the door, but didn’t bother to lock it.
His voice dropped to a near whisper. “How’s she doing?”
“A lot better.”
They entered the drawing room. Back straight, hands folded, feet together on the floor, Lolly was the picture of a prim, well-mannered schoolgirl. She moved over to give Laurel room beside her on the sofa, pointedly leaving the ribbon-back chair across from them for her father.
Laurel sat down and nervously ran hand across the wale of the sofa. This was where she and Jase had sat and talked before his appointments with Daddy and, more recently, where he had sat when he came to the house looking for Lolly. Every time she looked at the sofa, she thought of Jase. For her own peace of mind, she’d better ship it out on consignment quick.
Jase didn’t say a word, just gazed at his daughter with an easy smile on his face.
Laurel gave him points. He was playing it smart, waiting for Lolly to take the lead. It was hard for any child to be slapped in the face with a parent’s sexuality—as she very well knew—but Lolly should know that her father was a lot more than Marguerite Shelton’s prize stud.