Pippa looked between all three of us, she smiled as she slid off my lap. She took small careful steps closer to him as I held her waist and then she lightly tapped him on his hunched shoulder.
“I know I’m not Molly, but I can give you a cuddle for now.” She whispered as he looked up at her and sat up.
She climbed onto his lap and laid her head on his shoulder. His arms completely enveloped her small frame as she hummed. Her little hands stroking the side of his face like I stroked hers when she needed comforting. Jamie had always treated Pippa like she was his own child, and I knew it wasn’t just because he was her godfather. I knew that he did it because of who we were. Of how close we were. He did it because with a heart like his, how could he not?
Mum and I looked at each other. Her hand trembling slightly as she laid it on her chest as we listened to my little girl singing Jamie the lullaby that he always used to sing to her.
“Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li, Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Hush now don’t you cry…”
He quietly hummed with her until she’d fallen asleep and then he just held her until we stopped outside the townhouse and mum took Philippa from him.
“I can take her up for you. She’s getting so heavy now.”
“Don’t be silly, I’ll be just fine.” She tucked my daughter’s face into the crook of her neck and squished her tiny body to her own, wrapping her winter coat around them both.
“James.” She touched his knee and gave it a squeeze. “You’re a good man. That girl is lucky to have you, you remember that.” She patted his cheek and he leant into her hand.
“Thank you, Gwen.” His voice was cracked like that of a hurt child. “Are you sure—”
“You two get back to work. I’ll be fine with this one.” She slammed the taxi door shut and we watched until she closed the front door behind her.
Jamie
We were both quiet most of the way back to the hospital. The way she looked at me with so much pity. I felt like an embarrassing mess. Whoever said
that it got easier to walk away had no fucking clue. If anything, it got harder.
Molly’s tears got heavier and mine were on the brink of escape. I wanted to tear everything apart. I felt this indescribable anger build and root itself deep in my stomach every time I had to say goodbye to my daughter. Every time I had to watch her go home with the man that I had grown to envy and despise.
I envied every moment he got with my daughter that I didn’t. I despised his ability to live with himself. To continue living his life like he hadn’t torn mine apart.
Technically mine and Jenna’s divorce wasn’t finalised yet, and not only were they planning their wedding, but he’d moved into my house.
He got to see my little girl more than I did because more than anything, Jenna was great at making excuses as to why it was inconvenient for me to see our child. Ever since she’d moved Richard into our house I couldn’t stop by for a cuddle without asking first.
It was killing me. I was being choked out slowly and painfully.
“What…” Quincy took a deep breath and placed her hand on my forearm. “What happened earlier?”
I clenched my hands tighter together as our eyes met. I wanted to reach out and just let her soothe me, but I couldn’t. Because even though I told myself that we were friends, we weren’t. We were something else entirely. We weren’t friends and we weren’t more than friends. We were something somewhere in the middle. Always in the middle.
She didn’t give me one of her usual sweet smiles, instead her face was scrunched up like she was feeling everything I was. I dropped my eyes to where her hand rested on my arm and I wanted to tug her so hard that she ended up on me. I wanted my fingers to sink so deep into her flesh that she could really feel everything I was feeling, and then maybe she could take it all away. She’d seen me a lot worse than this, and yet this felt so much more intimate than all those other moments before. The squeeze of her hand and the probing glisten of her stare were harder and deeper.
I looked back up at her face. Her blue eyes were wide, and her dark golden hair twisted wildly around her face. She dropped her hand from my arm on a shaky exhale and I grabbed it, holding it between mine so tightly that I could feel her knuckles squeeze together.
She shifted forward in her seat and rested her elbow on my knee, her piercing eyes searched my face until they met mine again and she smiled.
She smiled, and it felt like I could finally breathe since I’d buckled my daughter into another man’s car. And I know I shouldn’t have asked, but the words were on the tip of my tongue and they just tumbled out.
“Why him? Why did you marry him?”
Her eyes fell to the floor and she swallowed like she couldn’t part with whatever answer had landed on her tongue. Instead she just shook her head as she stared at our feet. She tried to pull her hand back, but I just held on to it tighter.
I already knew why, and her tear rimmed eyes that looked everywhere except at me were a reminder of it.
“You left. You kissed me and refused to give me more, and then you left. You left me and then you found her.” Her gaze slid back to mine. “I watched as you made her promises, as you kissed her and danced with her. As you held her hand and beamed like you were the happiest man on earth, and I realised that you were someone else’s. So when he asked me again, I said yes.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She shook her head like she was clearing it and when she focused on me again she gave me a forced smile that indicated she was done talking about the past.