“Goodnight, Princess,” I whisper, kissing her forehead. “Sweet dreams.”
Tiff adjusts the blanket over her small frame, brushing the hair off her face tenderly. We tiptoe out together, and I flick the hallway light off as we go, leaving the door cracked open just a little.
When we’re both in the hallway, Tiff leans her back against the wall, looking up at me with those big, green eyes again.
I rest my hand on the wall above her and lean in to kiss her forehead.
Do I want to do more? Yes.
But I don’t.
“Goodnight, Tiff,” I whisper.
She doesn’t answer, but as I back away, ready to head to the guest room filled with Zach and Honey ghosts, she grabs my shirt.
I stop, watching her intently.
Her eyes search mine before she tips on her toes and kisses me quickly.
“I love you,” she says.
It’s just three words, but she gave me no warning.
My heart forgets how to beat.
She must read the shock on my face because her lips twitch. “Breathe, Jamie.”
“You—” I shake my head, not trusting my own ears. “What?”
“I love you.” She says it again as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
I stare at her, searching for the hesitation. The “but I'm still figuring things out.” The careful qualifier she's always attached to how she feels about me.
It's not there.
“I almost said it at the game,” she says softly. “When Ella was asleep on your chest and you were watching Zach play like you actually cared about the result.”
“Ididcare about the result.”
“I know. That's the thing.” Her thumb traces the fabric of my shirt where she's still holding on. “You care about everything that matters to me. You care about my cousin's football games and our daughter's fusilli opinions and whether Zach's okay about Honey. It’s like you’ve always been part of our lives, and I guess in a way, you have. But I like this better.”
My throat is so tight I can barely swallow.
“Ella loves you, Jamie,” she continues, her voice dropping. “She talks to you like you’re her favorite person in the world.” Her eyes glisten. “Do you know how long I wished she had a father who looked at her like that?”
“Tiff—”
“I spent so long being scared to feel this.” A tear escapes down her cheek, and she wipes it quickly, almost annoyed at herself for it. “But I'm not scared anymore. I'm just in love with you. Completely. And I didn't want another night to go by without you knowing that.”
I can't speak. I physically cannot form words because everything I've ever wanted is standing in front of me in a dim hallway, telling me she loves me while our daughter sleeps on the other side of a cracked door.
“Say it again,” I whisper. My voice is barely there.
She smiles. It’s warm and so fucking beautiful. “I love you, Jamie.”
I cradle her face in my hands, wiping the tear track with my thumb, and I kiss her. Slow. Deep. The kind of kiss I want her to feel in her bones.
When I pull back, my forehead rests against hers, and I'm losing the battle to keep my own eyes dry.