Apparently, this is what being single is for Zach. Not going out and drinking with his buddies. It’s protecting his family, and I’ve got to respect it.
“Do these things involve going to the ice rink so you can see if Honey is there?”
I know. I know. I shouldn’t have gone there, but I can’t help it. When it comes to me and Zach, we’ll always have this banter-filled relationship.
He lifts his lips in a fake smile before pointing the knife he’s holding at me. “You’re a real comedian, aren’t you, Nicks?”
“I try.”
Zach narrows his eyes and tosses an apple in the air before placing it on the table and cutting it with the knife quickly, without looking. If he wasn’t threatening me, I’d be impressed. “Now, let’s get one thing straight. I’ve been lenient with you because Tiff wants to give you a chance, but after my uncle showed up conveniently around the same time as you, I can’t help but be a little suspicious.”
“Honestly, I don’t blame you.”
“Good. Then you’ll understand that I have hidden cameras everywhere. If you make Ella cry, I make you cry. If you break a promise to her, I break something of yours.” He takes me in. “Probably your nose. Again.” He grins. “Simple enough arrangement, right?”
“Right.” I don’t bother to antagonize him now. Not when it comes to Ella and her safety.
“Good.” He takes a bite of the apple, chewing slowly. “For what it’s worth, Tiff thinks I’m too harsh on you, and she’s probably right, but I’ve been protecting those two since before Ella was born, so you need to give me some leeway.”
“I get it,” I say, risking a glance toward Ella, who’s still occupied with her coloring. “I’m doing this for her, Evans. No other reason. I want to be the father she deserves. I’m not here to piss you off or upset Tiff. I just want to know my daughter.”
His gaze flickers down for a second, and he nods.
“Tiff told me you had no idea about what your father was doing.”
“I didn’t.” I shake my head, the admission still burning. “I only found out about Ella six months ago when I was snooping through my father’s files. He wanted to make sure I never knew—it’s the same move he pulled when he tried to hide my adoption.”
Zach closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Wait, what? You’re adopted?”
“Tiff didn’t tell you?”
He shakes his head.
“Yeah, well, unfortunately I can’t blame my pathetic personality on my parents anymore. It was a closed adoption, so there aren’t any records for me to access.” I shrug, trying to seem casual about a wound that will never heal. I’ll never know my real parents or why they gave me up, and I’ll certainly never know what life I would’ve led if I hadn’t been destined for the Nicks family. “I found out the same day I met Tiff, actually. I was—pretty messed up that night.”
Zach silently assesses me, then he shakes his head. “I get it, Nicks. You want to be better, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re the same asshole who treated Honey like garbage in highschool. The same guy who made my life hell for years. The same entitled prick who—”
“Uncle Z!” Ella's voice cuts through his building tirade. “Come see my picture!”
His face transforms instantly into a smile as he reaches into his pocket and puts a few dimes in the swear jar. “Coming, princess.”
He crosses to the living room and crouches beside her, admiring whatever masterpiece she's created, and for a second, I just watch how natural they are together. He knows exactly how to talk to her, how to make her giggle, how to be the uncle—the father figure—she needs, and it makes me feel a little inferior.
What the hell do I know?
Nothing. That much was obvious when I couldn’t even get Tiff’s father to leave last week. Instead, I was too busy trying to justify the fact that I’m Ella’s father…a title I still don’t feel I necessarily deserve.
“It's a castle!” Ella announces proudly, pointing at her creation. “With a moat and everything!”
“That's incredible,” Zach says warmly. “You're gonna be an artist when you grow up, I can tell.”
“Or a princess,” Ella corrects seriously. “Princesses live in castles.”
“Right. My mistake.” He ruffles her hair gently, then stands.
“Jamie? Can you help me color the towers?” she asks with a bright smile.
“Sure thing.” I can never say no to her. I cross to the living room and lower myself onto the floor beside her as she hands me a purple crayon. “Uncle Z can do the stars, and you can color the bricks.”