25. Chapter 25
“So,” Zach says around a mouthful of Iced Out pancakes, eyeing Jamie at the stove. “Are you gonna start paying rent or is this a long-term mooching situation?”
“Zach!” I knock him on the shoulder, taking a sip of my coffee to hide my laughter.
Twice.
My cousin has caught Jamie over here twice, and he’s acting like we’re permanent.
I freeze for half a second. My stomach dips.
Permanent. Jamie’s becoming a permanent fixture in our lives, and that thought used to scare the crap out of me, but looking at him now, flipping another Iced Out pancake, I can’t imagine what life would be like if he ever left.
“Pretty bold accusation for a guy eating my pancakes,” Jamie says so casually, he doesn’t even look up.
“They’re Tiff’s pancakes,” Zach counters. “You’re just the labor.”
Ella giggles from her chair with syrup on her chin, completely unbothered by the idea of who belongs where. In her world, Jamie’s already been sorted into place.
He plates another pancake and brings it to Ella, who has Mr. Squishy sitting in the chair with her.
“Thank you,” she sings.
“You’re welcome.” He gives her a kiss on the cheek before heading back to the stove.
My chest tightens at the little move. This. This is what I never let myself hope for. A real family. Not just me and Ella against the world, but someone who chooses to be here. Who looks at my daughter like she hung the stars.
Who looks at me the same way.
When Jamie feels my gaze on him, he looks up, giving me a little wink and a smile.
Yeah, permanent doesn’t feel so scary when it looks like Jamie Nicks.
Zach drops his fork and rubs his hands together before checking his watch. “Welp, I’ve got to go. Training starts in 30.” He stands, grabbing his bag from the floor. “Try not to burn the house down while I’m gone.” Then he looks over his shoulder at Jamie. “Or knock anyone up again.”
“Out,” I say, shoving him toward the door, thankful that Ella was too engrossed in her pancakes to hear that.
When he’s out the door and I’ve gained some composure, I head back to the table to finish my coffee. Jamie joins us, shuffling close enough to me that our shoulders brush, and his feet inch toward mine.
The three of us eat together, talking and laughing about everything we did last night. For a few seconds, everything feels simple and right.
Dare I say, for the first time in my life, things feel perfect.
When I glance at Jamie, he’s already watching me. “You okay?” he asks quietly.
I nod, swallowing down the lump in my throat. “Better than okay.”
“Me, too.”
Ella finishes her pancakes and wanders into the living room, making the house fill with the noise of cartoons a minute later.
I start stacking the empty plates and take them over to the counter so I can load them into the dishwasher. As I’m cleaning, Jamie comes up, resting his hand on my back. “Can I ask you something?” he asks quietly, so as not to disturb Ella who’s watching cartoons.
I tip my chin up, giving him the quickest kiss I can. “Of course.”
He puts his plate on the counter and runs his hand through his hair. “What would you think about… maybe moving in together?”
I nearly drop the plate, but Jamie catches it in time. “What?”
“I know it's premature,” he rushes on. “But I don’t want to keep leaving you both. The idea of going back to my soon-to-be apartment doesn’t feel right without you there. I want to be with you and Ella. Every morning, every night.”
I open my mouth, my throat dry because I’m not really sure what to say.
Permanent feels a lot more permanent when he asks like that.
He shakes his head. “I didn’t mean we’d have to do it right now. I just thought it would be nice to be together as a family…whenever you’re ready.”
My heart is hammering so hard I'm sure he can hear it.
“Jamie—”
“Yeah, it was a stupid idea, wasn’t it? We’ve only just—”
I kiss him.
It's the only response I can manage because words feel too small for what I'm feeling. When I pull back, his eyes are wide and hopeful.
“I'll think about it,” I whisper. “But Jamie… I want that too. I want all of it. Eventually.”
Every edge of Jamie’s face softens with relief. His hand stays on my back, his thumb tracing small, absent-minded circles against my skin.
“Do you mean that?”
When I nod, he smiles fully and leans his forehead against mine. “You know, I spent years thinking I’d never see you again, and when I found out where you were, I thought I’d already ruined everything, but standing here, with you saying that…makes me feel like I’ve finally found my home.”
Home.
This is ours.
“Me, too,” I say quietly.
We barely have time to savor the moment before there’s a buzz at the gate.
“I bet it’s Zach. He probably forgot something,” I say, heading over to the controller.
Ella’s still in the living room, pulling out her crayons now, as Jamie goes to her. “I’m gonna draw Mr. Squishy having a tea party with Princess Blanca and Mr. Nibbles.”
“That's great, baby,” I say, heading for the door. “Keep drawing, okay?”
There’s another buzz, and when I check the camera, my brows furrow. It’s not Zach, but two men in suits, talking to each other.
“Can I help you?” I ask through the speaker.
One of them looks up at the camera, and it feels like his sharp eyes pierce through me.
“Is this the residence of Ms. Tiffany Bright?”
I swear my heart stops beating for a second.
“Hello?”
My fingers curl around the controller. I already know. I don’t want to say it, but my body does before my brain catches up. The weak knees. The shallow breath. The instinctive urge to look over my shoulder, like I need to protect Ella from something she can’t see yet.
“Uh,” I manage.
The younger man adjusts his grip on the thick manila envelope he’s holding.
I’ve seen envelopes like that before.
Lawyers.
And they’re here for me.
“We need to urgently speak with you, Ms. Bright.”
I don’t think. If I think, I’ll freeze. So I press the button and open the gate, my muscle memory taking over. I’ve done this before. Too many times.
By the time I force myself to open the front door, they’re already on the porch, briefcases at their sides like this is just another stop on their morning route.
One older. One younger.
Both looking at me like they already know my fate.
“Ms. Tiffany Bright?” the older one asks, though something in his tone says he already knows exactly who I am.
My mouth goes dry. “Who are you?”
“We're here on behalf of Jonathan Nicks.” The man’s voice is so professional, he almost sounds bored.
“O-okay.”
“Can you please confirm you are Tiffany Bright?” the younger one asks.
I hesitate for half a second too long. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. “Yes. I am.”
He nods once, then holds out the envelope to me.
“You’ve been served.”
For a moment, I just stare at it. At my name typed neatly across the front. At the finality of it sitting there between us.
When I take it, my hands shake. I clutch it to my chest like that might somehow stop what’s inside from being real.
I thought this was over.
I thought I was done fighting.
Behind me, I hear a sharp intake of breath.
“Jim? Mike?” Jamie says, disbelief cutting through his voice as he steps up behind me. “What are you doing here?”
Their words blur together as I stare down at the envelope, my vision narrowing until it’s the only thing I can see. My name. Black ink. Clean edges. A mess waiting to happen.
“She’s refusing service,” Jamie snaps, his hands lifting in agitation.
“If she refuses, it will be filed regardless,” the older man replies coolly. “This is simply a courtesy to Ms. Bright.”
“A courtesy?” Jamie scoffs. He’s standing in front of me now, protecting me from the two men he clearly knows. “A courtesy would be leaving us the fuck alone and saying no to my father when he asked you to do this.”
“Come on, Jamie. You know we can’t do that.”
“Get off this property.” Jamie’s voice is full of fury, while I’m having difficulty standing. “Now.”
“We'll be in touch regarding the hearing date. Have a good day, Ms. Bright,” one of them says. I don’t know which.
“Tiff?” I can hear Jamie, but I can’t seem to get myself to respond. “Are you okay?” He pulls me in for a hug, but I feel numb. So, so numb.
How could the best night of my life turn into the morning from hell?
Jonathan Nicks is back.
I moved here with the intention that all my legal battles were over, but it looks like I’m not allowed a happy ending. I shouldn’t be surprised.
“Mommy?” Ella's small voice cuts through the ringing in my ears. “Who was that?”
I pull out of Jamie’s hold and spin around so fast I nearly lose my balance. She's standing in the living room doorway, Mr. Squishy forgotten on the floor, and her face crumpled with confusion.
“Nobody, baby.” I force my voice to sound normal even though my hands are shaking. “Just some people with the wrong house.”
“Oh.” She seems satisfied with that answer. “Can we play now?”
“Yeah, princess,” Jamie says before I can respond. His voice is steady, but when I look at him, his face is pale. “Why don't you go pick out what you want to play with, and I’ll come join you in a second?”
“Okay!” She runs back to the living room, crisis averted in her three-year-old world. I wish those were my biggest problems in life.
I close the door carefully, then lean against it for a second.
“Tiff—” Jamie reaches for me.
His voice moves me into action, and I walk past him, tearing open the envelope, reading the contents.
Petition for Full Legal and Physical Custody…
Alleging unsafe living conditions…
Petitioner Jonathan Nicks, grandfather of minor child…
Witness statement provided by Charles Bright…
Requesting immediate temporary custody pending investigation…
The words blur together, but one name sticks out and guts me.
Charles Bright.
“My father,” I whisper, the pages trembling in my hands. “My own father is helping them destroy me.”
“Tiff—”
“That’s why he threatened you yesterday. He knew this was coming.”
“Tiff—” Jamie tries to calm me, but no one can. Not now.
“He's going to testify against me.” My voice cracks.
I can't comprehend. Can't even breathe.
“All because you’re here.” I don't mean to say it out loud, but the accusation hangs in the air between us.
Jamie flinches like I've slapped him across the face. “Tiff—”
“Your father is doing this to punish you.” My voice is rising now, and I'm dimly aware I need to keep it down so Ella doesn't hear. “He's going after Ella to hurt you, and my father—God, my father is helping him, and I—”
I can't finish. Can't breathe.
Four years. Four years of building a life, of proving I could do this, of finally feeling safe.
Gone. Destroyed in five minutes by men in suits with manila envelopes.
“They're not taking her.” Jamie's hands are on my shoulders, grounding me. “Tiff, look at me. They're not taking her.”
“You can't promise that!” I shove the papers at his chest. “Look at this! They're claiming I'm an unfit mother. They have my own father willing to testify against me. What am I supposed to say to that? That the man who kicked his pregnant daughter out suddenly cares about her welfare?”
“That's exactly what you say,” Jamie says firmly. “Any judge will see through that.”
“Will they?” I laugh, but it sounds broken.
“Or will they see exactly what your father wants them to see? A struggling single mother with no job, no home of her own, living off the charity of her cousin. And now with a boyfriend who—” I stop, staring at him, and shake my head.
“They're going to use you against me too, aren't they? The unstable boyfriend with no job who abandoned his own family.”
Jamie's jaw tightens. “I didn't abandon—”
“It doesn't matter what's true!” Tears are burning my eyes now. “What matters is what they can prove in court. What matters is they have unlimited resources and I have—what? My cousin’s house and a GED I haven't even finished yet?”
Jamie opens his mouth, then closes it, because what can he say? We both know I'm right.
I sink onto the stairs, the papers scattering around me. “This is my fault,” I whisper. “I let myself believe it could work. I let you in. I let Ella get attached. And now—”
“Stop.” Jamie crouches in front of me, forcing me to meet his eyes. “This is not your fault. This is my father being a vindictive bastard and yours being—” His voice hardens. “Being exactly the kind of man who'd sell out his own daughter.”
“But they're winning.” My voice breaks. “They're already winning, and we haven't even started yet.”
From the living room, I hear Ella singing along to her cartoons, completely oblivious to the fact that her entire world might be about to shatter.
“No, they aren’t. I’m going to fix this. I promise,” Jamie says, his hands squeezing my arms, but how can he be so sure? He hasn’t been through the fight we have, and his father wants to eliminate me as an issue.
I need to call Zach. And Honey. And our lawyer.
But first, I need to figure out how to keep breathing.
Because the man I love is staring at me with devastation in his eyes, and the daughter I'd die for is one courtroom away from being taken, and I have absolutely no idea how to fix any of it.