“I get it. I just don’t know if the answer to your relationship with your father is running away to Indiana.” Skepticism drips from every word.
Heat rises in my chest. “I'm trying to be a father. To know my daughter. To—”
The bell above the door jingles before I can finish my sentence, and I glance up out of habit.
That’s when my heart stops.
Fuck.
What the hell is she doing here?
Tiff.
And what’s she going to think when she findsmehere?
She’s going to think I’m stalking her. That I’ve been watching her every move since my plane landed, and although that’s kind of true, I don’t want her finding out.
I duck down, using one of the fake plants sitting on top of my booth as cover. Then I nab my Carolina Catfish baseball cap and shove it on my head.
I should leave. I should sneak out just as the waitress offers her a seat, but my body doesn’t move.
Instead, I find myself watching her.
She’s in jeans and an oversized sweater with her hair loose around her shoulders in the same way it looked that night. The night I met her. The night I apparently tried to forget.
Because my brain knew I’d never get anything better.
But, how do you forget someone like her? How does your brain just wipe the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen clean off the map?
Answer: it can’t.
I never forgot her. Not really. I just focused on surviving in the Nicks household and inflicting as much pain as I could on others. It was easier than admitting how broken and lost I was.
Tiff steps further in, and that’s when I see the little girl holding her hand.
Ella.
My daughter.
And just like that, the ground tilts. Something in my chest shifts, no,snaps,like tectonic plates realigning after years of pressure. I swear I feel it crack, right down the middle.
She's wearing a puffy pink coat and tiny boots, babbling excitedly about something I can't hear. Her hair is pulled into two small pigtails, and even from here, I can tell she’s perfect.
They walk together like they’ve always belonged to each other.
And fuck me, I’m gone.
Hopelessly, helplessly in love with both, even though I’ve barely spoken to either of them.
“Jamie? You still there?” Asher asks, but his words are already far away. I’m somewhere else, staring at a life that should’ve been mine.
Tiff takes in the diner, her eyes nearly landing on me.
“Shit,” I breathe, slouching down in my seat and yanking my cap lower. “I've got to go.”
“Wait, what? We're not done—”
“I'll call you back.”