17. Chapter 17 #2
“Jamie—” she starts.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Mommy, someone’s at the door!” Ella tugs on Tiff’s hand as she attempts to drag her down the hallway, but Tiff holds firm, her gaze still locked with mine.
“That’s probably Reese. I’m guessing Zach let him through the gates,” she says as she glances toward the door, then back at me. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? I can cancel. I can—”
“Go—” The word comes out gruff, so I soften with, “I want you to go out. You deserve this, Tiff.”
“But—”
“Go,” I say again, gentler this time. “Ella and I have big plans. Castle coloring, movie marathon, probably way too much ice cream. We'll be fine.”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Tiff hesitates for another beat, her gaze locked on mine.
“Okay.” She nods, but her hands are shaking slightly as she bends to kiss Ella's forehead. “Be good for Jamie, baby. I'll be home by ten.”
“Have fun, Mommy!” Ella's already running back to her crayons.
Tiff straightens, smoothing her dress one more time. She looks at me with a soft smile.
“Thank you,” she says softly. “For… everything.”
“Don't mention it.” I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her. “Now go before Reese thinks you stood him up.”
I try to make myself turn away and walk back to Ella so I don’t have to see Reese, but my feet won’t move.
She pulls open the door, and Reese is standing on the porch, looking every inch of the prince I wish I could be for Tiff and Ella. He’s holding a giant bouquet of flowers, wearing such a nice dress shirt, it looks like they’re going to prom.
Fuck me.
I don’t even remember my fucking prom, but I damn sure wished I could’ve asked Tiff to it.
“Wow,” he says, taking her in. “You look incredible.”
Pfft. As if she doesn’t know that already.
“Thank you.” Tiff's voice is quieter as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “You clean up pretty nice yourself.”
My fists are clenching at that tiny compliment.
You did this, I remind myself. You’re the reason she’s going on this date.
“I, uh, got these for you.” He pushes the roses in her direction, and Tiff lets out a surprised sigh. “I got pink because Ella told me they’re your favorite color.”
Now you’re dragging my daughter into your flirting?
“Oh, these are beautiful. Thank you so much, Reese.” She smells the flowers and I hear her soft, approving hum from here. “Let me just put these in water,” she says, and turns back toward the kitchen.
Our eyes meet for a split second as she crosses the kitchen island, and I see it. The apologetic look on her face, or at least, that’s what I think I see. I could just be projecting.
She finds a vase, arranges the roses quickly, then returns to the door where Reese is waiting with his hand extended.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Ready,” she confirms, placing her hand in his.
They leave, the door closing softly behind them, and I'm left standing in Zach's living room with my daughter and the crushing realization that I just sent the woman I'm falling for on a date with another man.
“Jamie?” Ella's voice pulls me back. “Can we watch the movie now?”
“Yeah.” I force myself to move, to function, to be present for the little girl who deserves my attention. “Of course.”
The credits of Iced Out roll for the second time tonight, and Ella's still wide awake beside me on the couch, her energy apparently infinite. She's wrapped in her favorite snowflake blanket and clutching her stuffed rabbit as she leans into me.
“Again?” I ask with a raised brow, already knowing the answer.
“Please!” She bounces on the cushion. “Just one more time!”
I glance at the clock. 8:47. She really should be in bed, but Tiff told me she could stay up since she was with me. It will be at least an hour before Tiff comes back, and that’s only if they don’t go to dinner.
Bet they’re having a great time right now. He’s probably holding her waist while dragging her across the dance floor. Reese seems nice, but he hasn’t had ballroom lessons since he was eight, so he’s probably using that stupid charming smile of his to get on her good side.
You know what? Another watch of Iced Out is definitely better than thinking about that.
“Alright, one more time,” I say, reaching for the remote. “But we can’t go much later, otherwise your mom isn’t going to be happy that I kept you up so late.”
“Yay!” Ella claps her hands, then settles back against me as I put the popcorn on my lap.
I draw my hand around her shoulders and play with one of her little blonde pigtails. Everything about this moment is perfect. Well, mostly. Tiff being here would make it better, but having all this time to spend with my daughter has been more than I could’ve ever expected before coming here.
The opening sequence starts, so I grab a handful of popcorn and stuff it in my mouth. That’s when Ella tilts her head up to look at me, her expression suddenly serious.
“Jamie?”
“Yes?” I say, swallowing down the popcorn.
“Are you a prince?”
I nearly drop the remote. “What?”
“Are you a prince?” she repeats. “Mommy says you aren't my uncle like Zach, and you aren't her friend like Reese. So are you a prince?”
My heart pounds against my ribs.
How the hell do I answer this?
“Why do you think I might be a prince?” I ask carefully, buying myself time.
She sits up straighter. “Because you came from really far away. Princes always come from far away in the movies.”
“That's true,” I admit slowly.
“Mama said you lived in a castle when you grew up,” she says, eyes wide. “Is it far away like in the movies?”
Did she really call it that? Where I’m living now is a far cry from the luxuries I grew up with, and somehow, I’m okay with it. I’ll take that shitty, little hotel room with the peeling wallpaper and questionable stains over my parents’ prison any day.
“It was big, but not as big as the castle Princess Blanca lives in,” I tell her honestly. “But now I live in a regular place. Nothing special.”
Her face falls slightly. “Oh. But you're still a prince, right? You have to be.”
“Why do I have to be?”
She looks at me like the answer is obvious. “Because mommy told me I’m safe with you, and you’ll always protect me no matter what. That’s what princes do.”
For a second, I can’t speak.
My throat tightens.
Safe. Protect. Those aren’t fairy-tale words. They’re words that I’ve never been trusted with before.
“Well, she’s not wrong. I will always do whatever it takes to protect you, princess.”
“And Mommy, too? She needs protecting.”
She does. Tiff doesn’t just deserve a prince. She deserves someone who shows up, who stays, who doesn’t come with a family legacy of lawsuits. Someone more like Reese with his uncomplicated life.
Not someone like me.
“Your mom is pretty special,” I say quietly. “But she doesn't need a prince, Ella. She's been doing just fine on her own.”
“But it's better with a prince,” Ella insists. “Princess Blanca has Princess Isla. They're better together. Mommy should have someone too.”
“She has you,” I point out. “And Uncle Zach, and lots of other people who love her.”
“It's not the same.” She shakes her head, frustrated that I'm not understanding. “You're supposed to—”
She stops mid-sentence, her face suddenly scrunching up.
“Ella? What's wrong?”
“My tummy hurts,” she says, pressing her hand against her stomach. Her voice has gone small and there’s a little crease in the middle of her forehead.
Panic flares in my chest. “Hurts how? Like you're gonna throw up?”
“I don't know.” Her eyes start to water. “It just hurts.”
Fuck. Okay. What do I do? What would Tiff do?
“It's okay, sweetheart.” I shift on the couch, trying to project calm I absolutely don't feel. “Sometimes tummies hurt. Did we eat too much ice cream?”
She nods, a tear sliding down her cheek. “Maybe.”
“Alright, let's get you some water. That might help.” I stand carefully, offering her my arms. “Can I carry you?”
She nods, reaching up.
I lift her gently, her small body tucked against my chest, her toy fox dangling from one hand. She's warm—maybe too warm?—and I feel that panic creeping higher.
What if it's not the ice cream? What if it's something serious? What if I fucked up already and Tiff comes home to find her daughter sick because I couldn't handle one simple night of babysitting?
“You're okay,” I murmur, more to myself than to her. “We're gonna get you some water and you'll feel better.”
“Okay.”