It’s funny. When I met him that night, Zach hadn’t transferred to South Point Prep, I had no idea who Honey was, and yet, all of this happened. We were connected before anyone even knew it, and our friends have to. It’s almost like fate’s been playing a sick and twisted game with our lives.
“Looking at you now, I realize my genes never really stood a chance,” I add after a beat, my tone lighter as I try to defuse the heaviness settling between us. “She came out all Nicks. Strong-willed and stupidly beautiful.”
His throat bobs. “Nah. She got that last part from you.”
And just like that, my heart does a traitorous little stutter behind my ribs.
“And she’s not a Nicks,” he adds.
There’s so much venom in the way he says ‘Nicks’ I can practically feel it sear the air between us, and suddenly I see it. The weight of being brought in, molded into a product, and used like a pawn in a legacy that never really belonged to him.
“She’s mine,” he repeats, “not theirs. Not that last name I never asked for. I don’t care what it says on paper, she’s mine.”
“Jamie—” I start, but he shakes his head.
“She’s the best thing I’ve ever done in this world,” he says, still focused on our giggling daughter, “and I’ve had no part in it. She might look like me, but she’s got your heart and your strength, and she’s too perfect to ever be considered a Nicks.”
“You’re right.”
“Thank you for agreeing to let me meet her.”
“I almost didn’t.” The honesty slips out before I can stop it. “I still don’t know if this is a good idea.”
“It’s not,” he says without missing a beat. He’s still focused on Ella. “Not for me, anyway. My dad’s cut me off. Frozen everything. Cards. Trust. Even the fucking car I rented got towed back this morning.”
I blink, completely thrown off. “Because you’re here?”
“Because I chose her.”
His voice is calm and measured, but the weight of the statement hangs heavy between us. He’s given up everything for just a chance. That’s it. I haven’t promised him anything, and yet, he’s willing to blow it all up just in case I let him see her.
“They offered me a way out,” he continues. “Sign a few papers. Pretend she never existed. They’d make it all go away. I told them to go to hell.”
A slow, hot burn starts behind my eyes.
“Do you regret it?” I ask, the question barely above a whisper.
“The only thing I regret in life is not getting your number that night,” he says it without flinching. No hesitation. No wink. Just his truth laid out.
I open my mouth. Close it again. My brain scrambles to process the whiplash of it all—rage, heartbreak, and now… that. The words hang between us, heavy, unrelenting, until the shrill blast of a whistle pulls my attention back to the field.
Ella makes another attempt at kicking the ball, this time with slightly more success. Her triumphant “I did it!” carries across the field, and Jamie's face breaks into a smile so genuine it transforms him.
“She's amazing,” he says, the awe in his voice is unmistakable.
“She is,” I agree, unable to keep the pride from my voice. “She's the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Jamie's expression turns serious. “I want to be part of her life, Tiff. However you'll allow it. I know I have no right to ask for anything, but—”
“You’re her father, Jamie. I would never stop you from claiming the time that’s rightfully yours.” It hurts to say because for so long, I’ve been everything to my daughter, but I can’t bear thinking about Ella living a life where she feels unwanted.
“I’m not here to claim anything. I’m here to earn it.”
I bite my bottom lip, and I can’t help myself, and I ask, “What happens when the money runs out and your father offers to reinstate your trust fund?”
He laughs darkly. “That’s not going to happen.”
“You say that now,” I murmur. “But everything’s different when it’s not theoretical. When the bills are real and the job market sucks and Ella’s got a fever at three a.m. and no one’s around to help you make the call. You say you’re here for the long haul, but the long haul isn’t pretty.”