5. Chapter 5 #2
She's wearing a puffy pink coat and tiny boots, babbling excitedly about something I can't hear. Her hair is pulled into two small pigtails, and even from here, I can tell she’s perfect.
They walk together like they’ve always belonged to each other.
And fuck me, I’m gone.
Hopelessly, helplessly in love with both, even though I’ve barely spoken to either of them.
“Jamie? You still there?” Asher asks, but his words are already far away. I’m somewhere else, staring at a life that should’ve been mine.
Tiff takes in the diner, her eyes nearly landing on me.
“Shit,” I breathe, slouching down in my seat and yanking my cap lower. “I've got to go.”
“Wait, what? We're not done—”
“I'll call you back.”
“Jamie, don't you dare hang up on—”
I end the call and watch them through the leaves.
Honey walks in behind them, slipping into the opposite side of the booth.
Ella bounces in her seat, scribbling all over a kids’ menu while Tiff threads her fingers through those pigtails I can’t stop thinking about.
I want to look away. My sanity needs me to, but I can’t tear my eyes from them.
They’re talking. Laughing. Looking like a goddamn family.
My family… except I’m not in the picture.
And yeah, the thought guts me. I’m lucky if I’m even an afterthought in Tiff’s mind. Funny how this might be the first time I don’t feel like bribing someone just to pretend I matter.
The bell above the door chimes, and because the world’s a sadistic bitch, I find myself sinking lower into the booth. Zach Evans. It has to be. Of course he’d show up now. At my lowest moment since I got here.
When two guys walk in, I relax, until one of them beelines straight to Honey, wraps her in a hug that’s way too familiar, then slides into the booth next to her.
What the hell?
Since when is that allowed? I thought she and Zach were still a thing.
The second guy flashes Tiff a smile that makes something vicious spark behind my eyes. He’s got that golden-boy glow, all dimples and good intentions, and I hate him instantly.
Then he sees Ella and drops to one knee.
“Princess Ella! Your crown, your highness!” He’s so damn loud and dramatic, I can hear him from here. He pulls a tiny tiara from behind his back, and Ella squeals and claps her hands.
Is that what Ella wants? Diamonds? Because I can fucking give her every diamond in the world if it means she’ll look at me the way she looks at that guy. Like he’s fucking Dad of the year.
That’s when it hits me.
I hate him because I want to shove him out of the way and take the spot that’s rightfully mine.
“Can you put it on me, Reese?” Her voice is high enough that it carries across the diner, and it makes everything in me melt.
It’s so perfect and so innocent.
My stomach plummets. It hits the floor and keeps falling when he carefully places the tiara on her head and Tiff watches on with a goddamn smile on her face. The kind I didn’t get when I showed up at her door, hoping for something. Anything.
“How’s my favorite princess today?” he asks, his arm casually draped across the back of the booth behind Tiff with Ella sitting in the middle.
Why the fuck is it so easy to hear them?
“Favorite? I’m not your favorite,” she says coyly.
The guy leans in, pinching her cheek. “You and Maya will always be my favorites. What have you been up to?”
“Momma and Aunt Honey took me to the park.”
“The park, huh? Big slides or swings?”
“Both!” she shouts, lighting up like a little sun. Tiff hushes her gently, still smiling.
This guy, Reese, just laughs. Unbothered and unforced. It’s warm and real. Almost like being here matters to him. And yeah, he’s good with her. Too fucking good. He’s patient with kids in a way I never learned. Present in a way I never was.
With my daughter.
Fuck. What have I done?
I toss some bills on the table, quickly pack my things away, and slide out of the booth with my head down and gut twisted. I don’t look back. I can’t look back at the family that feels like it will never be mine.
Outside, I press a hand to the brick wall and watch my breath fog the air.
Have I made a mistake coming here?
What the hell was I thinking?
That she’d be waiting for me?
That after everything my family did, everything I did, Tiff would somehow have space for me?
That no one else would see her?
That Ella wouldn’t grow attached to a man who actually shows up?
The door swings open behind me, and I straighten, ready to bolt until I catch a glimpse of Honey. With her phone pressed to her ear and her face pinched with tension, she talks in the familiar, short, clipped tones. I immediately know it’s her father on the other end of that call.
She flicks her hair over her shoulder, and for one stupid second, I remember the feel of it slipping through my fingers.
Once upon a time, we were supposed to be the ones to get married.
Our parents planned our entire lives, and now she’s pretty much engaged to the guy I tormented in high school.
The guy who stood up and raised my daughter while I was busy doing fuck-all, clueless about her existence.
God, I’m a fucking mess.
“Yes, Father. I just need to finalize the dates. I have classes until the end of the month, but I’d like to come up for a weekend beforehand so we can talk.”
There’s a pause, and I watch her shoulders slump. “You know what we need to talk about. The Nicks case…”
The Nicks case? As in my family?
“I don't care if it's complicated. Tiff deserves better than this legal limbo—Yes, I understand client confidentiality, but that wasn’t in the agreement—Fine. We'll discuss it when I'm home.”
She hangs up, muttering something under her breath before turning and then going back inside.
For a split second, our eyes could meet if she glanced toward the parking lot or if I called her name. I could try to explain everything to her and get her to vouch for me like I know she would, but I don’t.
Instead, I turn and walk quickly to my car, sliding into the driver’s seat before she can spot me. I stare at them through the window for a few seconds, wondering if I made the right decision.
Honey is the only person in their world who understands mine, too.
But I can’t use her. Not for something this big.
Tiff needs to make her own choice about me and the letter. Using people she cares about to influence her decision is exactly what my father would do, and I’m better than that… at least I’m trying to be.
The ugly, unavoidable truth is that I’m a pathetic excuse for a man, let alone a father. I’ve got no job, no prospects, or family support. I’m just a guy hoping a girl I only met once will see past all that and give me a chance to be a better person.
Sighing, I start the engine and make my way back to the hotel.
Seven days down, forever to go.