15. Chapter 15
“You're being ridiculous,” Madison says through the phone, her tone sharp enough to cut through the bullshit excuses I’ve been giving her over the last ten minutes.
I shift Ella’s ballet bag higher on my shoulder and reach for Ella’s hand, making sure to keep my voice low so my daughter doesn’t overhear. “I’m not being ridiculous. I’m being careful.”
“You're being a coward,” Madison corrects. “It's been a week, Tiff. A whole week since you kissed him and you haven't said a single word to the man.”
“If things are going to work, we need boundaries.”
“Okay,” she drawls out. “But boundaries are something very different to ghosting, which is what you’re doing.”
“I’m not—”
“He’s the father of your child. You can’t just pretend that kiss didn’t happen.”
I glance down at Ella, who’s happily humming her favorite Iced Out song as she skips to the dance studio. Madison’s right. I know she’s right, but that doesn’t make this any easier.
“I don’t know what to say to him,” I admit quietly.
That’s the worst part about it all. While I’ve been avoiding Jamie as though my life depends on it, he’s let me. He hasn’t sent me any desperate texts or shown up unannounced. He’s been nothing but respectful, which means the ball is firmly in my court.
“How about 'hi'? Start there. Work your way up to actual sentences.” Madison's voice softens slightly. “Tiff, he's been good. He hasn't pushed, but you can't keep hiding forever. You need to talk to him.”
“Mommy, I need to get my shoes!” Ella tugs at my hand, bouncing on her toes.
“One second, baby.” I turn slightly away from her. “Madison, I have to go. Ballet's starting soon.”
“Promise me you'll talk to him. Today.”
Ella skips ahead toward the rec center. “I promise I’ll think about it.”
“Tiffany Marie Bright, that’s not—”
“Bye, Madison.” I end the call before she can guilt me any further and help Ella through the door.
We’re the first ones there when we enter the reception area, so I guide Ella to a bench and help her with her ballet slippers before I check the time.
“We’re here about ten minutes early, sweetie.”
“That’s okay. Can I go in and practice?”
And by practice, she means skip, around the hall until she’s out of breath. I look through the viewing window and note that the teacher is already in there. When she sees me, she gestures to bring Ella in.
“Go ahead, baby. I’ll be right outside watching like I always am.”
“Love you, Mommy,” she says as she skips into the room.
“Love you, too,” I call back.
More girls come through the door as I find my usual spot on the bench at the corner of the studio window.
A couple of moms sit close by, talking and laughing, but I find myself watching the couple at the opposite end of the window.
The father is pointing and smiling at the little girl inside the hall.
Guilt pangs in my chest as I watch him wave at his daughter adoringly, looking as though she’s the only thing that matters to him.
I’ve only ever seen that look on one other person.
Jamie.
Whenever he sees Ella his face softens, his smile widens, and his eyes are filled with wonder.
He loves her. Even though he’s barely spent any time with her, it’s obvious that he loves her more than he’ll ever admit.
Suddenly, I’m not just overwhelmed with guilt, but with anger and a little resentment.
My father never looked at me like that. In fact, he only looked at me after he’d had at least a bottle of whiskey to himself.
That was when his true feelings would come out.
He never showed up for me, but that’s because he didn’t want to.
Jamie wants to, and at best, I’m being selfish by ignoring his messages. At worst, I’m actively passing the same pain onto my daughter.
She doesn’t deserve that, and I refuse to let my pride get in the way of their relationship. I need to be Ella’s mom and put her first.
Blowing out a breath, I take out my phone and make the decision before I can back out of it.
My thumb hovers over Jamie’s name, but then I falter again—what do I even say?
Hey, sorry I kissed you and then pretended you didn't exist for a week. Wanna hang?
It sounds ridiculous and stupid for the gravity of the situation, but the longer I leave it, the worse things are going to get.
Ugh, I need to stop overthinking, so I just type out a message.
Tiff: Short notice, but Ella has ballet class today at 4 at the rec center on campus. You can come watch if you want.
I hit send before I lose my nerve, then immediately regret everything.
I’m such an asshole. Giving him five minutes to get here before she even starts.
He’ll think I’m doing it on purpose, and I’m setting him up for failure.
He won’t realize that my anxiety is making me feel like I’m drowning, and I’m worried about what I’ll do when I see him again.
The three dots appear almost instantly.
Jamie: I’m on my way. Thank you.
Simple. Direct. No pressure, no guilt trip, no attempt to turn it into something more than it is. Just… gratitude.
God, why does that make me feel worse?
Because while I’ve been over here fretting about every moment of being near Jamie again, he’s just been patiently waiting by the phone, hoping I’ll let him back into her life.
This is not about me. This is about Ella.
I slip my phone back into my bag and lean my chin on my shaking hand to watch her.
I’m nervous.
How can I not be? He’s coming. He’s actually coming, and it’s all starting to feel real, which scares the crap out of me.
As the class starts, Ella stands in the back row, her face serious with concentration as she attempts the first position. She wobbles, catches herself, and tries again. Somehow, I start to relax watching her. She’s doing so well, and I’m so proud of her.
Fifteen minutes pass. Then twenty. I check my phone twice, but there’s nothing.
He said he’d be here, but is he going to show up? I ignore the anxiety creeping up in my stomach and keep watching Ella.
She’s doing so well that I hardly notice when someone approaches and stops beside me.
“She looks good. Has she been taking lessons for long?”
His voice makes me jump, and I look to the side, seeing Jamie standing a few feet away. He's in dark jeans and a worn Southern Collegiate hoodie with his hands shoved in his pockets, looking nervous and hopeful all at once.
Relief washes through me as I take in his crooked smile.
“Jamie,” I breathe out, realizing how ridiculously wistful I sound. “You’re here.”
“You invited me.” His eyes shift to the studio window, and his whole face softens when he spots Ella. “I wouldn't miss this.”
“Right. Yeah.” I gesture to the space beside me, suddenly hyperaware of every inch of space between us. “You can sit.”
He does, and it doesn’t go unnoticed that he leaves a respectable distance between us. We’re close enough to talk, but not close enough that he can whisper sweet nothings into my ear—not that I’d want that.
“She’s been taking lessons for about six months now. Zach got them as a birthday present for her.”
“Cool,” Jamie says, his mouth a little tight.
I know I should stop mentioning Zach every time I see Jamie, but that’s hard to do when he’s been such a force in her life.
Thankfully, Ella’s class serves as a good distraction from the tension going on between us. Ella leaps and twirls with varying degrees of success, and when she catches sight of Jamie through the window, she waves so enthusiastically she nearly knocks the girl next to her over.
Jamie waves back, his knee bouncing slightly, and when he clasps his hands back together, he starts to crack his knuckles.
“She’s incredible,” he murmurs.
“She is.” I fidget with the strap of my bag. I’m happy he’s here, but equally, I feel anxious knowing we still haven’t talked about everything.
“Jamie, I—”
“You don't have to explain,” he says quickly, still watching Ella. “I get it. I pushed too fast. Crossed a line. You were right to pull back because I sure as hell wouldn’t have. I’ve learned my lesson. No more silent treatments needed.”
My breath catches.
He knew what I was going to say before I even got the words out. Does that mean it was on his mind as much as it was on mine?
“That's not—” I stop, trying to find the right words.
“I wasn't giving you the silent treatment. I’m sorry I took so long to text you back,” I continue, the words tumbling out now that I've started.
“That wasn't fair. You've been nothing but respectful, and I repaid that by ghosting you like we're strangers instead of—” I gesture vaguely between us. “Whatever we are.”
“Co-parents,” he offers quietly. “Friends, maybe. If you'll let me.”
“Is that what you want? To be friends?”
He's quiet for a long moment, watching Ella attempt a pirouette through the window.
“I want whatever you're comfortable with,” he finally says.
“Even if that's just seeing each other at ballet class and birthday parties. I meant what I said, Tiff. I'm here for Ella. Everything else—” he trails off—”—will work itself out.”
How can he be so sure? Why does it all suddenly feel like a rush when I’ve been preparing for this?
Through the window, Ella does another twirl, and this time she doesn’t falter. Her face lights up with pride, and she looks over at us immediately. We both give her an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
“I saw an apartment yesterday,” Jamie says, changing the subject. “Two bedrooms. It's not much, but it's close to campus and the landlord doesn't require my father's references, which is good since I'm pretty sure I'm blacklisted everywhere that does.”
“You found a place?” He's really doing this. Really staying… why does that make me so surprised?