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Jamie shook her head in agreement and looked up at me. “You came over for work,” she said.
“Well, yes,” I said. “To offer you work. After all, this means a lot to me and I’d appreciate you working on it. You know, since we’re friends and all.”
Jamie made a sound, a half-laugh, half-sigh. She turned around to make sure no one was listening in and then stepped down onto the porch, the door still open behind her.
“Friends?” she said. “Is that what we are?”
“I guess,” I said.
“You guess,” she said. “What’s the job?”
“Social media and marketing for the new products,” I said. “It’s going to be a big one. Maybe six months of work. Maybe more.”
Jamie nodded. “And if I say yes, what does that mean?”
I cocked my head. “Mean?” I said, looking confused.
“For us?”
I tried to gauge the situation. But all I could think about was the toy truck on the floor in the hallway. The only sign in the beautiful little house was that there was a child there.
“Whatever you want it to mean,” I said.
Jamie looked around. She pursed her lips for the moment.
“Okay,” she said. “But I need you to understand something.”
“Anything,” I said. “You won’t regret it.”
“Eric,” said Jamie, “I meant every word of what I said while we were … out there in that little ghost town during the storm. And I am still grateful for what you did for me and my dad.”
“It’s no trouble,” I said tonelessly, knowing what was coming …
“But we are not friends. Not now, and not ever. A friend is someone you can rely on. And I can’t rely on you, Eric. Not when you keep me in the dark.”
I wanted to snap, to growl, to let my anger and the stinging feeling of guilt dictate my response. But I knew that if I did, she’d slam the door, and I’d never see her again.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll send you a contract and an NDA. You can pick your terms and your team.”
“I want Julia,” said Jamie.
“Fine,” I said.
“And I also need us to have some boundaries,” she added. “That means no socializing outside of work hours. No contact unless it’s professional.”
“You have my word,” I said.
“Momma?” said a tiny voice behind her.
I looked up, and in the shadowy hallway, I could see a little girl. She’d wandered in while I’d had my gaze fixed on Jamie. A little girl, with dark, curly hair and chocolate-brown eyes. I’d never seen her in person before. But I’d know her anywhere.
She was my daughter.
That was my daughter, standing there. A small, rosy-cheeked beacon of beauty.
Jamie turned to her, and then she turned and looked at me. Studied my eyes closely. She knew. She’s known all this time and has never told me. That I was Cassie’s father.
For a moment I lingered on the little girl, and for just a split second I thought her eyes fixed on mine. Little as she was, I wondered if she knew how much she resembled the dark man standing in her doorway, whose face was hidden by the angle of the light.
