Page 115 of Falling Back to You

He frowned and tried to pat his jean pockets with full hands. “Did you text me?”

“Nah, I thought at you, and it worked.”

Greyson rolled his eyes. “You’re still trying to do that?”

“It works sixty-three percent of the time.”

He huffed in amusement and sat down. “Change your mind about getting a dog?”

“Not even a little bit.” I glanced at Rosie. “I love you, sugar, but absolutely not.”

Rosie side-eyed me in a I’m sure you’ll cave one day. Have you seen your daughter’s eyes? kind of way. I, of course, ignored her lack of faith in my ability to stand firm.

“Khia go down okay?” I asked, accepting the drink with the hand that wasn’t occupied with her royal fluffy highness at my feet.

Greyson chuckled. “Sure. After two stories, a lecture on which Vivaldi was the right bedtime music, and a mini science lesson on the lifespan of a beta fish.”

I laughed, and it echoed back at me from the trees. The laughter was refreshing, good soul medicine. “She’s on the ocean album of the Jason Lark science adventures.”

“They’re actually good,” Greyson confessed, then took a swig of his soda. “I’ve listened to a couple with her.”

I didn’t disagree. Sometimes I turned them on by myself. Without her. Yes, I was aware it was technically a kids’ radio drama for teaching biblical-based Creation science, but I was hooked.

“So . . .” Greyson’s gaze surveyed the dark backyard, the firelight flickering across his face. “How was the date?”

“Really? Et tu? You’re not gonna chew me out about being careful?”

“I apologized for that.” He arched an eyebrow, and I caved. Because, verbal processor, remember?

“It was great.” I leaned back in my chair. “It was like no time had passed, and yet . . . like we were different, too.”

“Are you going out again?”

Rosie snuffled, trying to get my attention. When I didn’t surrender to her demands, she ambled over to Greyson and sat with her chin on his knee. He stroked her head, and she sighed contentedly.

“She wants to take things slow,” I said, fiddling with the glass bottle. “You know something? After she left, I used to think it was my bad jokes that drove her away.” I held my hand out to the flames and scanned the shadowy lawn. “The night before she left I told her my corn joke.”

“Did she laugh?”

“Yeah.” She always laughed at my jokes, no matter how ridiculous.

Greyson grunted. “Well, beyond a poor taste in humour, I doubt that was the reason.”

“Hey, my jokes aren’t terrible.”

“Well, they aren’t the caviar tier of jokes, so . . .”

“I didn’t say it was my brightest theory.”

He sipped his drink. “Clearly not.”

“Yeah, well, Mr. Allergic to Fun, do you have a better theory?”

While I had inherited the wit and charm, Greyson had gotten all the responsibility and rigidity. Until Paisley came along and softened him up. He studied me for a moment. “Noelle’s decision to leave was hers, not a reflection on you.”

But what if it was? “I have to think about the fact that there were two people in that relationship and leaving was so out of character for her. What if I drove her to it?”

Greyson hummed. “That’s a very mature perspective for you.”