8. Chapter 8 #2
He nods slowly, disappointment flickering across his face.
“Right. Okay. I guess I'll just—” He takes a step back, then another.
“I'm not going anywhere, Tiff. I'm enrolled.
I start classes Monday. So if you want to avoid me, you're going to have to try a lot harder than walking around my new campus.”
The words should sound like a threat, but they don't. They sound like a promise. Like a warning.
Like the beginning of something I'm not ready for.
Ella stirs again, making a small sound, and that's all the motivation I need. I turn the stroller around without another word and start walking, my hands shaking so badly I can barely keep my grip steady.
I don't look back. I can't look back, but I can feel his eyes on me the entire way across campus, burning into my back like a brand I'll never be able to get rid of.
Ella's finally asleep after fighting bedtime for an hour, and her tiny body is curled up in her Princess Blanca pajamas with her new tiara still perched crookedly on her head. I'd tried to take it off, but she'd whimpered in protest, so I left it.
My phone buzzes for the third time in five minutes, and I sigh, knowing exactly who it is.
Madison: Okay, seriously, what the HELL happened earlier??? You can't just drop “Jamie's here” and ghost me.
Madison: TIFFANY brIGHT, I SWEAR TO GOD.
Madison: I'm calling Zach if you don't answer me in the next 10 minutes
I stare at the screen, my thumb hovering over the keys.
What am I supposed to say? That I ran into Jamie on campus?
That he's transferring here? That every time I close my eyes, I see him standing outside student services with his hands shoved in his pockets, looking at me like I'm the only person who matters?
My stomach twists. I can't tell her any of that. Not when I don't even understand it myself.
Tiff: I'm fine. Just saw him from a distance. Nothing happened. I'll call you tomorrow, promise.
I hit send and immediately silence my phone, tossing it onto the bed beside me.
The lie tastes bitter, but it's easier than the truth. Easier than admitting I stood there and talked to him. That he told me he'd enrolled. That he's not going anywhere.
Zach had been understanding when I texted him earlier, apologizing for missing lunch. “No worries,” he'd replied. “Rain check. You okay?” I'd lied and said yes, blamed it on Ella being fussy.
Another lie to add to the growing pile.
A lump gets caught in my throat, because I hate lying to Zach.
He’s my rock. The one person who’s been there for me this entire time.
When my parents kicked me out, he was the one to offer me a place to stay.
When the Nicks family tried to buy me off, he was the one who researched custody laws until his eyes were bloodshot.
When I thought I couldn’t handle one more sleepless night with a colicky baby, he was the one there to offer his help.
And what am I doing? Hiding from him. Lying to him.
But how can I tell him the truth when that would unleash a storm I’m not ready to face?
Zach would hunt Jamie down, and with the mood he’s in lately, I shudder to think what he might do.
The last thing he needs is to lose his draft eligibility.
Not to mention an assault charge on the father of my child wouldn’t look great for any future custody battles I might have to deal with.
The thought alone reinforces that I’m doing this for my own good. For now, this stays between me and Jamie.
But how long can that realistically last? He’s not leaving. He made that much clear, so Zach’s going to see him eventually. Even if Jamie somehow avoids him, Madison can’t keep a secret. She’ll tell him soon enough, and then I’ll have to face the consequences.
Consequences… a ridiculous concept when I haven’t bothered to read his letter.
I still haven’t gained the courage to, and the guilt of it all is eating away at me.
Jamie’s trying to tell me something, and he isn’t using his father this time. It’ll be bad, that much is for sure, but could it be worse than hiding from him for the rest of my life?
No.
I need to take my own advice.
I need to read the letter.
Bite the bullet…rip the Band-Aid, or whatever other cliché there is about getting this over with.
Before I change my mind, I head over to the dresser and pull out the sparkling pink envelope. My hands are shaking so much, I can’t read my name written across it, but I push through.
I need to do this. If not for me, for Ella. It’s her father, after all.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I give myself a moment to gain some composure. When my hands are a little less shaky, I run my fingers across the front, feeling the tiny pebbling of the ink under my touch.
It’s oddly intimate, and the closest I’ve been to Jamie since that night.
Flipping the envelope over, I slide a nail under the seal and pull out the thick, expensive paper, surprised at how long it is.
No one has ever written me a letter before, let alone one that’s over two pages.
With a deep breath, I find the start and read.
Tiff,
I’ve had some of the best education in the world, yet I still can’t figure out how to start this letter to you. In fact, this is the tenth attempt, and I’m starting to think I’m going to need an eleventh one too.
I’m sorry.
I guess that’s the best and only way to start this, but it doesn’t feel like enough. It never will.
I’m sorry you were left to deal with all of this on your own. I’m sorry my father has been trying to manipulate you since he found out about our daughter. I’m sorry I didn’t get your number before you left that night. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you when you needed someone the most.
In all honesty, it’s because I didn’t know you were pregnant. I didn’t know you had a child. I didn’t think you even thought of me after that night.
I thought of you, though… a lot. More than I’d like to admit.
You were, and still are, the only good thing that happened to me.
I know you have no reason to believe that after all these years of silence and my father’s lawsuit, but it’s the truth.
I found out about you six months ago when I was snooping through my father’s office, looking for some other files. There was one with your name on it, and a picture fell out. When I picked the picture up, I realized it was of you, Zach, and the most beautiful child I’d ever seen.
For a second, I thought my father was blackmailing Zach, so I went through the files. Hundreds of legal documents were in there; all forged with my signature and a DNA test I never consented to.
It all led me to the same conclusion.
I have a daughter that I’d never met before, and when I looked at her picture again, I couldn’t take it.
She was mine, and my father was trying to hide it.
When I confronted him about it, he didn’t even try to deny it. He just laid it out to me like it was a legal brief.
You’d had my child. He’d tried to buy your silence. You refused, so you became a liability.
I was furious. He never even said her name. Not once. Just called her “that child,” like she was nothing more than a legal complication.
The anger turned inward quickly, and I blame myself for all of this. After that night, I should’ve gone looking for you. I shouldn’t have given you a fake name, because how were you supposed to find me?
For once in my life, I should’ve fought for what I wanted instead of bowing down to my father like always.
The night I met you, I was planning on burning my world down. There was nothing for me anymore, because I had just found out that the people I’d spent my entire life trying to please weren’t really mine and that they had no intention of ever telling me the truth.
I know I don't deserve this chance. I know I've missed her entire life and that fact alone kills me. I’ll never know what it felt like to cradle her in my arms when she was first born. I’ll never know the sound of her first words.
I’ll never know what it was like to feel her crawling up my leg, asking for a hug.
I’ve missed so much, but I’m here now and I want to try. I want to learn who she is. I want to be the kind of father she can depend on. The kind who shows up. The kind who listens. The kind who stays.
I’ve walked away from everything to be here. From my family. From their money. From the life they built for me because I don’t care about any of it anymore. Nothing compares to the chance to know my daughter, if you’ll let me.
Please meet with me. Just once. Let me explain, face-to-face. Let me try to be the man she deserves and maybe, if I’m lucky, someone you can stand to look at again.
I’m not asking for forgiveness. I just want a chance. That’s all.
- Jamie
P.S. I’m sorry for showing up at your door. If you’re reading this, it didn’t go as I’d hoped. It was a stupid gesture, and I panicked. You’ve always had that effect on me, even when I didn’t fully understand why.
I read the letter twice. Then a third time. Slowly. Methodically. Like maybe, if I comb through it enough, I’ll find the part where he slips. Where I can see the lie, and believe he’s really just doing this for his father.
There’s no spin, or calculated twist. There’s just raw honesty…
and pain. Pain of being with a family who doesn’t accept you when they’re supposed to love you unconditionally.
My heart aches, my stomach filling with dread because I know that feeling.
I felt it when I looked into my parent’s eyes after they found the pregnancy test.
And suddenly, I’m not sure where the lines are anymore. Between villain and victim. Between what he knew and what was stolen from him, too.
Could it really be true? Could Jamie have been just as lost in all of this as I was?
His number stares back at me from the bottom of the letter, waiting for me, and without thinking I know what I need to do.
I need to talk to him.
For Ella… and closure.
I take my phone, and hesitate before I finally type:
Tiff: I read your letter. We need to talk. I’ll be on the St. Michael’s campus by the Summers’ building at 12 tomorrow. Hopefully I’ll see you there. Tiff.
I hit send before I can talk myself out of it.
Then I fold the letter in half and curl my hand around it, letting the feel of the paper across my skin ground me.
I lie there in the quiet, staring at the ceiling as I agonize over the decision I just made.
Have I opened the door for his family? Or is he going to be worthy enough to become part of mine?
I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.