14
Jamie
It’s been two months, and I’m trying my hardest to take things slow with Callie. Light caresses, slow kisses, and sometimes we both stay up well past the time we should, talking or facetiming on the phone. It’s led to her moaning and me gasping. None of those are what either of us wants, but I know she needs to take things slow.
Don’t get me wrong; sometimes she’s still as skittish as a wet cat. I bust my ass to show her the error in my ways. I made a promise to her, and I’ve kept it thus far.
A few times, Clairabella was around while we chatted on the phone. At first, I wasn’t sure she’d even mention my name to her daughter, but apparently, she’s as serious as I am about our relationship.
Today is the day that I’ll be meeting Clairabella. Callie is bringing her in after school while we have a meeting that couldn’t be pushed back. I told her I could take care of it myself, but she refused. I’m beginning to think she’s a workaholic as much as I am. We compromised by her picking up Claira, bringing her back here to start on her homework while we have the meeting, and we’ll all go out to dinner afterward. When I brought up dinner, I saw the leeriness in her eyes. I promised her I’m not going anywhere, and it was settled.
I snuck away after she left and hit up the store. The one bit of advice my mother did give me was to always have some kinds of arts and crafts stuff for Clairabella to do while she has to wait on us. I bought more than was probably necessary, from construction paper, crayons, markers, colored pencils, coloring books, scissors, glue, and even glitter. I bought it all. If Clairabella is stuck here, I want her to be comfortable at the very least, and if she makes a mess, she makes a mess. Kids are meant to have fun and be kids, not a stuffed shirt like I recently was.
Now, I sit here and wait for two of the three most precious women in my life these days and hear little steps getting closer.
“Mr. Jamie, hello!” I hear from the lady of the hour. I get up from my seat at my desk and drop down to a squat as she barrels toward me. She skids to a halt, so much like her mother, only this time not in the same outfit. But her eye color, her hair… She is Callie’s spitting image.
“Hello, Clairabella. How was school today?” I ask. I hold my hand out for her to shake it, unsure of how this will work. Clairabella takes care of that herself. She throws herself at my body, her arms wrapping around my neck, and she hugs me. This little girl hugs me, knocking me to my knees in more ways than one. My eyes find Callie’s, and when I see the glistening in her eyes, I mouth to her, “I promise to take care of the both of you.” She nods in acknowledgment.
“You can call me Claira or Bella. My day was great. How was yours?” You wouldn’t know she’s on the cusp of turning seven years old; she’s smarter than her years.
“It was good. I know it stinks to be here while your mom works, but I’m hoping this won’t take too long. If it does, there’s a surprise over on the table for you.” I nod at the table in my office. We’ll be in the conference room across the hall with a potential client, so Claira can make noise in here, and Callie will still be able to see her with the way the glass walls separate everything.
“Jamie, you didn’t have to do that.” Callie’s voice is just a whisper. I stand, moving toward her but not touching. At least not yet.
“I know, but I wanted to,” I tell her.
“Oh my gosh, Mommy. Look at all this fun stuff! Thank you, Mr. Jamie,” she squeals as she looks through the bags on the table.
“You’re welcome, Princessa.” I don’t know what possesses me to use that term of endearment, yet it fits her perfectly. I watch Claira’s eyes blink. A big toothless smile appears on her face, and then she dives back into the bags.
Callie walks toward me. “Thank you, Jamie.” Her tone gives away every emotion she’s feeling but not portraying.
“Always, she’s an extension of you, and I hope I get to see more of her.”
“I’m going to go prepare the conference room. Do you mind keeping your eye on her?” Callie asks.
“Not at all.”
She turns and heads towards the conference room, setting up drinks, snacks, and the portfolios that are needed.
“Do you mind if I join you?” I ask Clairabella. She’s elbow deep in glue and glitter, though she’s somehow managing to not get it all over herself.