“I’m sorry, what?” I search for Palmer, but she’s in the sandbox.
“Did you want to grab lunch?”
“Oh sure,” I say before I think better of it. Palmer has a routine I rarely stray from. “Actually, we can’t. It’s her nap time.”
Palmer walks over. Hungry. Then she puts her hand in Jamison’s. Jamison raises his eyebrows at me, and my shoulders fall.
I sign back quick and Palmer smiles at Jamison. There goes that gut twist again. It’s like a wet towel that keeps getting wrung out, tighter and tighter.
“Let’s go then,” I say, a little annoyed.
I pack up her sand toys, and we leave the park with Palmer’s hand in both of ours as if we’re a happy little family. I can barely stomach it.
We reach Lard Have Mercy and are seated in a booth overlooking the gazebo. We place our orders with the waitress and make awkward chitchat about mundane topics.
“She’s beautiful,” Jamison says, staring at Palmer who’s now draped over my chest, asleep.
Karen comes over, sets our orders down in front of us, and runs her hand down Palmer’s back. Then she kisses her hand and places it on my belly. “I can’t wait to spoil this one.”
I smile. Karen is Austin’s wife’s mom, but she’s also married to my uncle now, so I guess she’s more like my step-aunt. Although I still think of her as Holly’s mom.
“Soon, I think,” I say.
Jamison’s jaw twitches. He hasn’t asked me once today whose baby it is. Good. Let him suffer.
“Karen, you remember Jamison?”
Karen glances over her shoulder and nods. “Hello.”
It’s the coldest hello I’ve ever heard from her lips.
Jamison nods. “Hi. How are you? Enjoying your grandson?”
She eyes me for a moment, not granting him her full attention. “Anything else, sweetie?”
“No. I’m fine.” I smile widely and look at my turkey club. Between my stomach and Palmer, none of it will make it into my mouth.
As though Jamison has been a part of our life forever, he quickly realizes my dilemma. Rising from his seat, he comes to the side of the booth where I’m sitting, hands held out. “May I?”
I leave him standing there with his arms extended. Do I really want to grant him the gift of holding our sleeping child? It’s one of my favorite moments with my daughter. I can just stare at her and smile at the peaceful look on her face, hoping her life is easier than mine—except for those fleeting years we were together in New York when things were good.
The perfect job. The perfect condo. The perfect boyfriend.
My stomach growls and I know I need to eat. This baby needs to remain healthy.
I hand her over, and he takes Palmer to his side of the booth and positions her in his arms like an actual baby, her head tucked into his elbow.
“Your arm will go numb like that.” With much effort, I slide out of the booth and pick her up. I place her chest on his, draping her arms over his shoulders so her face is in the crook of his neck. It’s her favorite position. Palmer sighs. “There you go.”
“Thanks.” He holds her with both hands, one across her butt and the other cradling her head.
“You can still eat if you’d like. She sleeps like a rock.”
“Just like me, huh?”
We fall silent for a moment. Like me, he’s likely remembering the joke between us about how he could sleep through a family of elephants pounding through our apartment.
“Yeah,” I say and pick up my turkey sandwich.
He eyes me. “I hate this, Sedona. This awkwardness that’s never been there between us before.”
I know what he means. Since the first time I interviewed him in high school, we just clicked. And although years passed while I was at NYU and he was playing in the Scottish Premiership, when he showed up on my doorstep in New York, nothing had changed.
“This isn’t some great reunion, Jamie.”
He smiles over his burger.
I scowl. “What?”
“It’s the first time you called me Jamie.”
Rolling my eyes, I say, “Some habits are hard to break.”
“Maybe,” he murmurs.
He puts down his burger and wipes his hand with a napkin, then he runs his hand down Palmer’s back like a concerned father. One who’s been present in her life.
Shit, anger is pulsing through my veins again. I need to stop this, for Palmer’s sake.
My shoulders fall and my nose tickles. Tears are coming and I’m not going to be able to stop them. I glance around to see how busy the diner is, praying no one snaps a picture for Buzz Wheel right now. The last thing I need is a headline detailing how my entire life is falling apart.
“Do you honestly think you’re staying here?” A tear slips out and I press my palm to my cheek, smearing it away.
“In Lake Starlight or in your life?” he asks.
“I guess I thought they were one and the same.”
He leans back in the booth, balling up his napkin and throwing it on the plate. “I want the two of you back more than anything. But if I’m honest, there’s no job for me here. I’ve applied for some assistant coaching positions back home, not that I’m confident any of them will amount to anything.”
“Where?”
“Manchester U, Arsenal, Celtic,” he says, his gaze falling to Palmer, his hand gripping her tighter. “I’d likely have to start in their youth divisions and work my way up.”
I slide out of the booth, take her out of his arms, and place her in the stroller.
“Wait, that doesn’t change anything,” he says.
“It doesn’t change anything?” I yell and glance around before lowering my voice. “It changes everything,” I whisper-shout. “This is Palmer’s home. Here in Alaska, around people who care about us. Is that why you’re back? Are you going to try to take her halfway across the world away from me?”
Karen comes over. “Sweetie, calm down.” She helps me secure a now-crying Palmer in her stroller. She’s reaching out to Jamison to return to his lap. Another waitress hands Karen a cookie and she passes it to my daughter. “There you go, sweetheart. Eat the cookie.”
It mollifies Palmer enough that she stops crying.
“I’m not trying to take her anywhere. She’s my daughter and I want a relationship with her.” He slides out of the booth. “I’m trying to do this the right way.”
I step up to him, silently cursing that I can’t tower over him. “I’m not going to allow you to be all sweet and endearing like you give a shit about us. I thought you were here to be present in her life. What’s the master plan? Worm your way into our lives and then convince me to move to Europe so you can live out some fantasy of being back on the celebrity circuit again? Then in a few years, I’m tucking my tail between my legs and coming back home to pitying looks. I have a life.” I rub my belly. “In case you haven’t noticed.”
“I have noticed, and believe me, it kills me. Do you have any idea what seeing you pregnant with someone else’s baby is doing to me?” he shouts back.
“Why should I care? You didn’t even give a shit when I was carrying your baby!”