Worth the Fall: A Single Dad, Romantic Comedy (Flirting with Forever Book 2)

Mornings with Felicity are always a storm of glitter and toast crumbs, but today, her enthusiasm feels amplified, as if she’s been waiting all night to ask me something that’s been brewing in her little mind.

‘Daddy,’ she says, holding up her orange juice like a royal decree, ‘are you going to see Miss Mia again?’

The question lands mid-sip of my coffee, and I nearly choke. ‘Why do you ask that, princess?’

She looks at me as if I just asked why the sky is blue. ‘Because she’s fun. And she made you laugh.’

I sit across from her, carefully placing my mug on the table. ‘You liked Miss Mia, huh?’

Felicity nods so vigorously her curls bounce. ‘She’s the best. She plays pretend. And she didn’t get mad when I spilled my juice on her pants. And she made you smile like this—’ She scrunches her face into a dramatic grin that makes me laugh despite myself.

‘Felicity, Miss Mia is very busy. We’re lucky we got to spend time with her last weekend.’ While I hope I get to spend any amount of time with Mia that she agrees to, I also know that kids easily get attached, a lot easier than adults. So, if the time comes that Mia decides she doesn’t want anything more than what it is right now, I don’t want Felicity’s heart getting crushed in the process.

‘But,’ she says, drawing out the word as her brow furrows, ‘if she’s not busy, maybe she can come over? Or be my other mommy?’

Her words stop me cold. I stare at her, trying to process how her little mind jumped from ice cream in the park to the idea of Mia joining our family. ‘Princess,’ I begin carefully, crouching beside her so we’re eye level, ‘it doesn’t work that way.’

‘Why not?’ she presses, her voice rising with a hint of frustration. ‘You said I could have two mommies.’

‘That’s… not exactly what I meant,’ I say, running a hand through my hair. ‘Miss Mia is a friend. And sometimes grown-ups need time to figure out their friendships.’

Felicity crosses her arms, her lips pursed in a pout that could rival any closing argument. ‘I still think she’d be the best mommy.’

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. It’s not that Felicity’s attachment to Mia surprises me—it’s the way her innocent words poke at something I haven’t admitted to myself. Something I’m not sure I’m ready to face.

‘Tell you what,’ I say, straightening up and ruffling her curls, ‘how about we focus on today? You’ve got preschool, and I’ve got work, and we’ll see what happens with Miss Mia, okay?’

She doesn’t look convinced, but she nods. ‘Okay. But if you see her, tell her I said hi and tell her Pebbles says hi too.’

‘Will do sweetheart, but right now…’ I nod toward her half-eaten pile of scrambled eggs and grapes. ‘You need to clean your plate. A princess needs all of her energy to keep the kingdom safe, remember?’

And with that, she nods enthusiastically, shoving the now cold, rubbery eggs into her mouth so fast I have to remind her to slow down so she doesn’t choke.

Work is supposed to be my refuge, the place where I can drown out personal drama with contracts, mergers, and the clean-cut world of finance law. But the moment I step off the elevator, I spot Celine standing near my office door, and my stomach sinks.

She’s leaning against the wall, scrolling through her phone like she owns the building. Her perfectly highlighted hair and ever-present French tip nails were once the things I found attractive about her… but after seeing that same hair spread across my own damn pillow while those nails dug into the back of our neighbor… not so much. When she sees me, her lips curve into a polished smile—the kind she’s perfected over years of charming clients and deflecting confrontation.

‘Celine,’ I say, keeping my voice as neutral as possible, ‘did we have a meeting?’

‘Of course not,’ she says, sliding her phone into her designer bag. ‘I just thought we could talk.’

‘About Felicity?’

‘Not exactly.’ She steps into my office without waiting for an invitation, her heels clicking against the floor. ‘Though she did mention something interesting the other day.’

I follow her inside, shutting the door behind me. ‘What’s this about?’

She perches on the edge of my desk, crossing her legs like she used to when we were still married, when she knew that small gestures could disarm me. ‘She mentioned someone named Mia.’

The air between us tightens. ‘And?’

‘And,’ she continues, her tone light but pointed, ‘I’m curious. Who is this Mia?’

‘She’s a friend, a colleague,’ I say evenly, leaning against the wall. ‘Felicity met her once. It’s not a big deal.’

Celine arches a brow. ‘Not a big deal? Felicity seems to think she is.’

My jaw tightens. ‘She didn’t—’ I start to deny it but remember that I’m single and when Felicity isn’t at my house, I don’t need to answer to her about who I spend my time with. ‘We went to the park and lunch. That’s it.’

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. ‘Relax, Miguel. I’m just trying to understand. It’s not every day Felicity talks about someone like this.’

‘I don’t owe you an explanation about who I spend time with,’ I say, my voice sharper than I intend, ‘especially not when you’re the one who⁠—’

‘Don’t,’ she cuts in, her tone suddenly icy. ‘Don’t bring that up again.’

Her deflection only stokes the fire burning in my chest. ‘Why are you really here, Celine? To question my parenting? To throw shade on my personal life? Because if it’s about Felicity, I’m happy to talk. But if this is just another one of your games⁠—’

‘Games?’ she repeats, her eyes narrowing. ‘You think this is a game? I’m trying to protect our daughter.’

‘Protect her from what?’ I snap, my frustration spilling over. ‘From a woman who spent one afternoon making her laugh? From me, the parent who’s been here every day since you decided to blow up our family?’

Her face pales, but she recovers quickly, her expression hardening. ‘You think you’re the hero here? You’re just as much to blame for what happened. You’re the one who⁠—’

‘Stop,’ I say, cutting her off. ‘You don’t get to rewrite history, Celine. You made your choices. Now let me make mine.’

For a moment, neither of us speaks. The tension between us is palpable, years of unresolved anger bubbling just beneath the surface. Finally, Celine stands, smoothing her blouse with practiced grace.

‘Well,’ she says, her voice cool, ‘if you’re so confident in your decisions, I’ll leave you to it. But remember, Miguel—Felicity deserves better than your mistakes.’

She walks out without looking back, leaving me standing there, fists clenched, the ghost of her words echoing in my head. How she can manage to look me in the eyes and ever say something about my mistakes is beyond me.

‘Mr. Ramirez?’ Tarryn taps gently on my door. ‘Are you ready for your morning debrief?’

‘Morning, Tarryn.’ I plaster on a smile and shove the unexpected shit show of a morning to the side. ‘Of course,’ I say confidently, ‘let’s get this day going.’

I text Mia that evening, desperate for some sense of normalcy, for the warmth her words always bring. I don’t tell her about Celine or the argument. Instead, I keep it simple.

Her response comes quickly, but it’s not what I hoped for.

Her ex. The knot in my stomach tightens. I type back, forcing myself to keep the tone light.

She replies with a laughing emoji, but it feels hollow. I stare at the screen long after the conversation ends, the thought of her sitting across from him—laughing, reminiscing—gnawing at me like a splinter.

Twelve years isn’t nothing, even if the guy broke her heart and took a hard left into new age spiritualism. I know how hard it is to let someone go, even when they’ve damaged you in ways you never thought they were capable of.

The memory of Celine’s words from this morning come racing back, my stomach turning into a pit of acid. I remember what it was like to see her after I moved out. The way I had to talk myself out of begging her to come back, to promise her that I would forgive her and we could be a family again.

I couldn’t fault Mia if she ever did decide to go back to Cameron. She isn’t the one who ruined it. She thought he was her happily ever after, her future, and she’s probably still mourning the loss of all of it to this day.

That night, the bourbon in my glass is the only thing keeping my hands steady. I sit at my desk, the glow of my laptop casting shadows on the walls. Against my better judgment, I type his name into the search bar.

Cameron Chandler.

His photo pops up immediately—he’s younger than me, by at least a decade. Although that’s not surprising, considering Mia is as well. He has the neck of a quarterback and that look… the one all gym bros have.

I slam the laptop shut, the knot in my stomach turning to a dull ache. The thought of Mia with him—of her smiling at him the way she smiled at me last weekend—makes my chest tighten.

But, of course, my mind doesn’t stop there. Before I can stop it, I’m picturing her arching her back beneath him, her pants and moans growing louder as he’s the one buried between her thighs.

‘Stop it,’ I say through gritted teeth.

I pour another drink, swirling the amber liquid as I try to push the jealousy down. It’s irrational. Unproductive. But it’s there, simmering just beneath the surface.

My phone buzzes on the desk, a text from Tarryn about tomorrow’s client meeting changing times. I ignore it, the bourbon burning my throat as I down the rest of the glass.

For a moment, I consider emailing Cameron myself. Reaching out under the guise of professionalism, convincing him to bring his contracts to Blake Financial so he’ll leave Mia alone. But I know she’d see right through it. She’d tell me it’s unethical, unnecessary, even if she did make a joke about it previously.

I close my eyes, leaning back in my chair as the bourbon works its way through my system. The rational part of me knows I need to let this go. To trust her. But the thought of her sitting across from him, laughing, sharing pieces of herself that I barely understand yet—it’s enough to make me pour another drink.

When I finally drag myself out of my office, down to the waiting Uber I ordered, the temptation lingers, as persistent as the bourbon burning in my veins.

But before I can wallow too much, my brother’s name flashes across my screen.

‘Hello?’ I muster, my voice thick from the bourbon.

‘You sound like you could use a beer.’

I groan. ‘Too bad I’ve already started with bourbon.’

‘Well, you know what they say, liquor before beer, in the clear. I’ve got a cold one waiting for you—stop by my place for a few. You sound like you could use a brotherly chat. I recorded the game earlier and I’ve been waiting to watch it till I got home from the hospital.’

How the fuck does he always seem to know? I guess it does come with the territory of being the older brother.

‘Sounds good actually. Be there in a few, just leaving the office.’

I hang up and pinch the bridge of my nose as I lean back in the seat, trying my hardest to push any and all thoughts of Cameron and Mia from my mind.

‘You’re distracted,’ Hector says, leaning back against the counter as he takes a swig of his beer. We’re at his place, the sound of a baseball game playing on the TV in the background.

‘Work’s been busy,’ I reply, but he gives me a knowing look.

‘Work’s always busy. What’s going on?’

I hesitate, swirling the beer in my bottle. ‘It’s Mia.’

‘Mia,’ he repeats, raising an eyebrow. ‘The one Felicity won’t stop talking about?’

I nod, setting the bottle down on the counter. ‘She’s… amazing. Smart, funny, great with Felicity. But I don’t know if I’m ready to let someone in again. And I don’t know if she is, either.’

Hector studies me for a moment before setting his beer down. ‘Look, you’ve been through hell. But if this woman makes you happy, and she’s good with Felicity, don’t overthink it. Just take it one day at a time.’

His words settle something in my chest, and I nod slowly. ‘Thanks, man.’

‘That’s what I’m here for,’ he says, clapping me on the shoulder. ‘Now, let’s see if the Cubs can actually win a game for once.’