I quickly type a message out to Reese.
Tiff:That means more than you know. Thank you for always being there for me, Reese.
After I slip the phone back in my pocket, I stare at my bedroom door across the hall, hesitating over my next move.
Jamie’s in there.
The man who protected our daughter at all costs. I need to thank him. I need to do a hell of a lot more than that, but I just don’t know how.
I take my first steps, blowing out a breath.
“Here goes nothing,” I whisper to myself before reaching out for the door.
Chapter 19
Drip. Drip. Drip.
I watch the water from my hair fall onto the marble vanity, counting each drip in the vain hope that it will reduce my anxiety.
I called 911, and all I can think about is the way Tiff looked at me when I admitted it. I knew it was dramatic, but I didn’t want to fuck it all up like I do with everything else in my life.
The dispatcher had been so patient as she walked me through the steps while I rambled about Ella’s temperature and stomach aches like it was a national emergency. She said she had new parents call panicked like this all the time, but can I even be considered a parent yet? I feel like I’m just some idiot who doesn’t know the difference between “Needs medicine” and “needs an ambulance.”
Ella’s okay. That’s all that matters.
Pushing away from the vanity, I look down at my body.
“Fuck.”
I’m soaking her bath mat. I slowly peel off my wet shirt and wring it out over the tub before resting it against the side. My jeans are a little harder to get off because the denim is soaked through. By the time I’ve wrestled them off, I’m breathing hard and standing in nothing but my soaking wet boxers. Those come off next, and I place them next to my jeans, taking in my dripping wet clothes as I stand in my baby mama’s bathroom naked.
Fucking idiot. Now what are you going to do?
Leaning over, I grab one of the towels from the rack and wrap it around my waist.
Hopefully, Tiff will show pity on me and let me throw my clothes in the dryer so I don’t have to head back to the hotel naked.
“Jamie?”
I freeze.
Never, and I mean never, in my life have I felt so uncomfortable half-naked.
I turn to find Tiff standing in the doorway with wide, surprised eyes.
“I—” She stops mid-sentence, her gaze traveling from my face down to the towel and back up again. She shakes her head, and there’s the tiniest hint of a smile on her lips. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were—”
“No problem,” I say, fisting the fold of the towel tighter to hold it in place. “Didn’t want to walk around the house and get everything wet. Figured Zach would use it as a reason to murder me.” I throw her a lopsided smile, but she doesn’t respond. In fact, she doesn’t move. She just stands there, staring, as the color creeps up her neck, all the way to her cheeks.
“Uh, right,” she says finally, shaking her head again. “You—you can’t walk around in just a towel.”
“Probably not the best idea,” I joke, trying to lighten the tension in the room, though my heart is beating so fast, I worry it will explode out of my chest soon.
Her eyes flick down to the towel but look back up so quickly, I would have missed it if I could keep my eyes off her. She clears her throat and looks away. “Let me get you something. You and Zach look about the same size.”
Then she disappears out of the room, leaving me there to think about how hot she looked when she was breathless and blushing.
I blow out a breath and lean against the counter, dropping my head down. All I see is the bulge under the towel growing.