Chapter 50 - Jordin
Fifty-Jordin
“It wasn’t her fucking place.”
I slammed my water bottle on the console in the studio, the plastic crinkling loud in the quiet room. Oak didn’t flinch. He just sat back on the worn leather couch, watching me pace. Calm. Too damn calm.
It had been three days since the birthday debacle, and I was still mad about it. Every time I thought about the look on Ci’s face, I got a little bit more pissed.
When I found out I was pregnant, I thought it was Oak’s since Ciarán claimed he had a vasectomy. I didn’t even think about the timeline or nothing until a brown baby, who was very obviously not mixed and had her daddy’s eyes, came into the world screaming in melody.
Oak hadn’t flinched then either. From day one, he was Olivia’s father.
“I get it, though. I do,” I kept going, wiping my palm down my face.
My voice cracked a little. I was feeling too emotional.
“Avian been riding for me since the day we met, but she should’ve stayed out of this.
She didn’t have the right to tell him.” But maybe she did.
She had been there through my entire pregnancy, despite not knowing the baby was Ci’s and when she found out she made sure she was there every other weekend and birthday and holiday so Olivia knew she had family on her fathers side there for her. She was like a sister to me now.
Oak raised a brow like he was waiting for me to get it all out before commenting.
I sighed and dropped down next to him, rubbing my temple. “But I can’t even be mad at her. Not really.”
I sucked in a shaky breath, my eyes fixed on nothing across the studio. “I should’ve told him... like you said. But every time I even thought about it, it felt like I was dying. What if he didn’t want her, Oak? That shit would’ve broke me.” I sighed.
“What if he just—” I cut myself off, shaking my head. “It bothered me that I would’ve had to chase him down, force him to even hear me out just to tell him he had a daughter. My ego wasn’t built for that. It was fighting me every step of the way, even though deep down I knew what was right.”
I let out a bitter laugh, my throat tight. “And now... after seeing his face at the party? I regret not doing it sooner. Not tracking him down and making him listen.”
My voice dropped, sharper now. “But then? Fuck him too. He should’ve been here. He should’ve had more faith in me. Faith that I could’ve helped him through whatever crisis he was in instead of disappearing like I didn’t matter.”
I blinked fast, fighting the sting in my eyes. I’d fought that fear every single day since I knew I was pregnant. That maybe he’d say, I don’t want nothing to do with her. Or with me. That maybe she’d grow up asking me why her daddy didn’t come.
Oak let me sit in that for a second, then reached over and squeezed my knee in support. He had learned when to listen and not try to talk over me these last years. Dare I say it, his cheating had brought us closer together and made him better.
I wiped my eyes, cleared my throat, and sat up straighter. “But it don’t even matter anymore, right? He knows now. But I’m dreading seeing him again. Now that I’ll be forced to work with him since the label locked us in again.”
Before I could get too deep in my own head, my assistant — Nia — pushed open the door. She looked weird. Like nervous weird. Nia was a pretty girl, tall and lithe with light skin. A USF grad who could sing but would rather not. She wanted to learn the producing and business side.
“What’s wrong?” I asked immediately.
She didn’t answer. Just came closer, holding her phone out. “You need to see this, J.”
I grabbed it and stared at the screen. It was TikTok. Someone had posted a video... from the party.
My chest tightened instantly.
It was shaky, but clear enough. Oak. Avian. Me. Ciarán. His face when Avian told him. Him storming off. Me yelling after him with Olivia in my arms.
The caption read:
“Whew... so Jordin been cheating on her husband with Ciarán? This messy af. She for the streets lmao.”
My blood ran cold. I scrolled, and a comment stabbed at me: "Deadbeat dad and a side chick mama." My vision blurred. This was our deepest hurt, our most private moment, packaged as messy gossip for the world to chew on.
“What the fuck—” I couldn’t even finish.
Nia gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Oak sat up, looking at me with narrowed eyes like oh shit.
But neither of them were looking at the phone. I turned and found him behind me.
Ciarán. Dressed in a black polo shirt, black pants, and black and red Jordans. His line-up was fresh, beard perfection.
Standing right in the doorway.
Too fine to look so damn broken and tired. Tattoos still peeking out beneath his sleeves. That cocky smirk he used to wear was gone though. Replaced by something... else. It made me feel sad for him when I should’ve felt anything but.
“Long time no see. Well, sort of.”
My whole body locked up.
I wasn’t ready. No part of me was ready, though I knew this day would come. But I thought I’d at least get a phone call first—not him dropping his irksome ass into the same space as me after he ran from me not three days earlier.
He kept talking. Stepping inside, voice rough and low.
“I had a plan,” he said, dragging his hand over his beard. “I was gonna get all these mental health evaluations done. Prove to you and everybody that I could be trusted with my daughter. I was gonna use my mental health as an excuse... to explain why I disappeared. Try to make it sound good.”
He laughed softly, but it was filled with lemon-type bitterness. “I bought her a car too... but then I was thinking she’s four. She can’t fucking drive. And in 12 years she’ll need a new car anyway because my child will only have the best and newest.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Oak’s lips twitch like he wanted to say something or smile, but he didn’t interrupt.
Ciarán went on, eyes flickering between us, his voice breaking down little by little.
“I went to my daddy’s grave. Prayed on being a father.
You know that ain’t even my thing. I ain’t hear shit, no holy voice or nothing like people say you’re supposed to.
.. but I felt my momma. And I just knew.
.. I knew she would be ashamed of me because I ruined everything—the only thing I had good and for no reason. ”
I pressed my lips together so tight they hurt.
“And then I saw that TikTok.” He shook his head, his lips curling like the shit disgusted him. “Watching myself run away... watching myself behave like a fucking coward? Erased everything else I planned to do before I came to you.”
He looked at me. Not through me. Not over me. Dead-ass at me.
“That’s why I’m here,” he finished. His chest rose and fell heavy.
“So where do I even start? How do I get you to forgive me? You too, Oak,” he added, glancing at him.
“I owe you an apology... and a thank you, ‘cause I know you took over when I fumbled and I know my child is good and been good because you were there, old man.”
He was trying to lighten the tension, but to me, the room felt tighter than a jab could loosen.
Oak spoke up. Voice low. Cool but with something like understanding underneath.
“Start by asking her name.”
Ciarán frowned, looking confused.
“Our daughter,” Oak said. “Her name’s Olivia.”
The moment he said her name, I swear time slowed. Or at least Ci looked like he slowed.
Ciarán’s lips parted. His eyes glossed over. He whispered her name like it was scripture.
“Olivia…”
Something inside me cracked right then.
Because I thought I didn’t have anything left for him. I thought I hated him. Thought time had hardened me past softness.
But watching his face shift... watching him say her name like it was sacred?
I wanted to stay angry with him. I wanted to yell at him, hit him.
But my heart wasn’t participating.
And I wasn’t even mad anymore.
That scared me.
Because... how do you build a future on a foundation of four years of silence? What do we do now?