13. Chapter 13 #2
I nod, then force a small smile, needing to steer us away from Reese before this turns into something it’s not. I like Reese. Who wouldn’t? He’s beautiful and kind, and sweet, but now that Jamie’s here… it’s not something I feel like I can or should consider. This moment is too important for Ella.
“But I do want to thank you for helping me with my work. I would’ve given up tonight if you hadn’t been here.”
“You’re welcome.”
His smile is small, almost sad, and that’s when I notice his hands. They’re shaking, just a little, but just enough to want to make it better.
I shunt my chair closer and place my hands over his. The shaking slows a little.
“Jamie,” I whisper.
His eyes lift to meet mine, then flick away.
“I’m sorry. I keep fucking this all up. I shouldn’t have—” he starts, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird.”
“You didn’t,” I say quietly, letting my thumb stroke the back of his palm. Oddly, I can feel Jamie’s reluctance.
Has anyone ever comforted him before?
His gaze comes back to mine.
“It’s just…” he exhales, closing his eyes. “When I look at you, I forget how to do this right, or what I’m supposed to say.”
My breath catches.
“I don’t want to overstep,” he adds, softer now. “I just—” he trails off. “I just can’t help it when it comes to you.”
The air between us is thick and heavy.
His eyes drop to my lips, then back up, searching. Asking permission without words.
I should stop this. I should stand up, make an excuse about being tired, about needing to check on Ella. I should do a thousand things that aren't leaning closer, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him.
But I don't.
His hand comes up slowly, tentatively, and when his fingers brush my cheek, our kiss in the library comes racing back.
“Tiff,” he breathes, as though it’s a question that he wants me to answer.
I close the distance.
My lips meet his, gently at first, and I feel him freeze up. He stays there though, so I kiss him again, a little more firmly this time. It’s nothing like the first kiss we had. We were just two broken people seeking comfort in the dark that night. This is slower. More deliberate.
His hand slides into my hair, holding me in place as his thumb grazes the edge of my jaw in a way that makes me shiver.
The chair creaks when he leans in, his knees brushing mine beneath the table, the warmth of him sinking into every inch of air between us.
The way he kisses me makes it easy to forget the truth—that I was the mistake, the mess, the one who broke everything. In his hands, I’m something whole again.
Then it hits—the truth we’ve both been pretending not to see. Everything between us is already broken.
I pull away, gasping, my hand coming up between us like a barrier. “I can't—we can't do this.”
Jamie freezes, his hand still hovering near my face. “Tiff—”
“No.” I shake my head, standing up so quickly my chair scrapes against the floor. I take several steps back, wrapping my arms around myself. “This isn't—you're not here for me, Jamie.”
“I'm not?” His voice is rough and confused.
“You're here for Ella.” The words come out firmer than I feel. “That's what this is about. That's what it has to be about.”
He stands slowly with his hands raised. “It can be about both.”
“No, it can't.” I bite my lip, forcing myself to meet his eyes even though it hurts. “You've been here one day. One. You read her a bedtime story and helped me with homework and that's—it's wonderful, Jamie, it really is. But this?” I gesture between us. “This complicates everything.”
“Tiff—”
“You need to prove you're here for her,” I continue, my voice cracking slightly.
“Not for whatever this is between us. Not because of one night four years ago that we both remember differently.
Ella needs stability. She needs someone who shows up consistently, not someone who's here because he wants to recapture something that probably only existed in our heads.”
Jamie flinches like I've slapped him. “That's not what this is.”
“Isn't it?” I challenge softly. “You said yourself, I was the one thing that felt real, but Jamie, I'm not the answer to whatever you're running from. I can't be that for you.”
“I'm not running—”
“You gave up everything,” I say. “Your family, your money, your entire life. For what? A daughter you just met? Or for the girl from the library who made you feel like you mattered?”
The silence that follows is suffocating.
Jamie's jaw works, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. When he finally speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper. “You think I don't know the difference?”
“I think you're trying to figure it out,” I say gently. “And that's okay. But I can't—” My voice breaks. “I can't be part of that equation, Jamie. Not yet. Maybe not ever. My priority is Ella. It has to be.”
He nods slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes even as hurt flashes across his features. “You're right.”
“I am?”
“Yeah.” He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a shaky breath. “You're absolutely right. I'm sorry. That was—I shouldn't have—”
“It's okay,” I interrupt softly. “But we need boundaries. Clear ones.”
“Boundaries,” he repeats, like he's memorizing the word. “I can do boundaries.”
We stand there in the kitchen, the space between us feeling impossibly wide now. The ghost of his lips on mine lingers, but I push it away. I have to.
“I should go,” Jamie says finally, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair. “It's late.”
“Yeah.” I wrap my arms tighter around myself. “Thank you for tonight. For the story, for the studying, for… everything.”
He pauses at the doorway, looking back at me with those whiskey eyes that have caused me nothing but trouble. “I meant what I said, Tiff. About Ella. About being here. That's not going away, even if…”
“I know.” And I do. I can see it in every line of his body, in the way his voice breaks around her name.
“Goodnight, Tiff.”
“Goodnight, Jamie.”
I listen to his footsteps fade down the hallway, hear the front door open and close. Only then do I let myself sink back into the chair, my fingers touching my lips.
I did the right thing.
So why does it feel like I just made the biggest mistake of my life?