Chapter 26 Nate
twenty-six
nate
Four days. Four days since that envelope destroyed our perfect homecoming, and I still couldn't shake the feeling that I was standing on quicksand. Every time Paige giggled, every time she talked about our next beach trip, every normal moment felt like something I was about to lose.
"Dad, you're doing the thing again," Paige said from across the breakfast table.
"What thing?"
"The staring-at-nothing thing. You've been doing it all week." She pushed her cereal around the bowl. "Is it about work?"
"Just thinking about grown-up stuff, kiddo. Nothing for you to worry about."
The lie tasted bitter. Everything about this was for her to worry about, but she didn't know it yet. Couldn't know it yet. Not until I understood what we were facing.
My phone buzzed on the counter. Unknown number, local area code. My hand hesitated over it.
"Aren't you going to answer?" Paige asked.
I forced a smile. "Probably spam."
But something in my gut knew better. I picked up on the fourth ring.
"Hello?"
"Nate?" The voice was different… older, more tentative.
But unmistakable.
"It's Sarah."
The kitchen suddenly felt too small. I stood abruptly, gesturing to Paige that I needed to take this outside. She rolled her eyes at adult weirdness and went back to her cereal.
I stepped onto the back deck, closing the door carefully behind me. "Sarah."
"I know the papers were a shock." Her voice carried a rehearsed quality, like she'd practiced this speech.
"My lawyer insisted it was the best way to.
.. formalize things. I just want to be involved in Paige's life.
I've made mistakes, I know, but I've changed.
Can we meet? Just to talk about what's best for her? "
My jaw clenched. What's best for her? As if she had any idea what that meant.
"You've been gone for eleven years," I said, keeping my voice level. "Not a call. Not a card. Nothing."
"I know." A pause, then her voice dropped to something that almost sounded vulnerable.
"I wasn't ready then, Nate. I was young and drowning.
But I'm ready now. I'm in therapy, I have a stable job—marketing, actually.
Remote work with good benefits. I even bought a place in Rosewood Hills.
Three bedrooms, big yard. The kind of place a kid would love. "
The specificity of it set off warning bells. Like she'd prepared a resume for motherhood.
"I want to know my daughter," she continued. "My therapist says it's crucial I re-establish this relationship before I... before I move forward with my life. Paige deserves to know her real family."
Real family. As if eleven years of bedtime stories and scraped knees and science projects didn't count.
"She barely knows you exist," I said.
"And whose choice was that?" The words came out sharp, almost accusatory, with an edge of entitlement that reminded me of the Sarah who'd walked out our door eleven years ago.
Then, as if catching herself, she softened again.
"I'm not blaming you, Nate. You did what you thought was best. But she has a right to know her mother, doesn't she? "
The worst part was, buried under all my anger and fear, some part of me wondered if she was right. What if Paige did need her mother? What if I'd been selfish somehow, keeping them apart?
"I need to think about it," I said.
"That's all I'm asking. Just think about it. I'm staying in town, at the Hampton Inn. I can meet whenever works for you." Another pause. "Nate? I really have changed. I want to prove that to you. To both of you."
After I hung up, I stood on the deck, staring at nothing. The morning sun felt too bright, too normal for what was happening.
The sliding door opened behind me. Tasha stepped out, coffee mug in hand. She'd been staying over more often since we got back, and Paige had stopped commenting on it.
"I heard you come out here," she said quietly. "Paige said you got a weird call."
"Sarah."
Her expression hardened immediately. "What did she want?"
"To meet. To talk. To be involved." I scrubbed a hand over my face. "She says she's changed."
"Bullshit." The word came out sharp and immediate. "Nate, you can't seriously be considering—"
"She's Paige's mother."
"No, she's not." Tasha set her mug down hard on the patio table. "She's the woman who gave birth to Paige. There's a difference. A mother stays. A mother shows up when her kid is sick or scared or just needs a hug. A mother doesn't disappear for over a decade and then waltz back with lawyers."
"I know that."
"Do you?" She studied my face, and I could see the worry in her eyes. "Because you've got that look. That 'honor and duty' look that's going to make you do something stupid."
"It's not stupid to consider what's best for Paige."
"What's best for Paige is the life she has. With you. With us." She stepped closer, her hand finding mine. "Sarah doesn't get to disrupt that just because she finally decided she wants to play mommy."
"She mentioned a house in Rosewood Hills," Nate said. "Three bedrooms. Big yard."
"How convenient," Tasha muttered. "Just happens to have the perfect kid-friendly setup after eleven years of nothing."
"And something about her therapist saying she needs to re-establish the relationship before moving forward with her life."
She froze. "Moving forward how? New husband? Boyfriend who wants kids?"
"She didn't say."
"Of course she didn't. But she's painting a picture, isn't she? Stable job, nice house, therapy. Like she's checking boxes on some 'good mother' application."
I rubbed my face. "Maybe she really has gotten her life together."
"Or maybe someone in her life wants a ready-made family and she needs to secure her claim on Paige first." Tasha caught herself before she went further down that path.
Thursday would tell us more. "Sorry. I'm just..
. the timing is too convenient, Nate. Right after you tell her parents about us? About me?"
"What if Paige needs—"
"Stop." Tasha's voice was firm but not unkind. "Stop doing that thing where you convince yourself you're not enough. Paige doesn't need Sarah. She needs the father who's been there every single day of her life. She needs stability and love and the family we're building."
"The door was always open," I said quietly. "I told Sarah that when she left. That I'd never stand between her and Paige if she wanted to be involved."
Tasha sighed, and I could see her shifting tactics. "Okay. Let's say you meet with her. What's your plan? What are you hoping to accomplish?"
"I don't know. Maybe understand what she really wants. Maybe see if she actually has changed."
"And if she has? If she's done the work and she's stable and she genuinely wants a relationship with Paige?"
The question I'd been avoiding. "Then we figure out what's best for Paige. Slowly. Carefully. With Paige's feelings at the center of every decision."
"And if she hasn't changed? If this is about money or image or some guy who wants her to have kids?"
"Then she doesn't get near Paige."
Tasha studied me for a long moment. "You're going to meet with her no matter what I say, aren't you?"
"I have to. If I don't, she'll use it against me. Say I'm alienating Paige, keeping them apart out of spite."
"This is exactly what she wants," Tasha said. "She's already got you second-guessing yourself, already got you worried about looking like the bad guy."
She was right. I knew she was right. But knowing something and feeling it were different things.
"Come with me," I said suddenly.
Tasha blinked. "What?"
"To meet with her. Come with me. You'll see things I miss. You'll keep me from falling into old patterns."
"She won't like that."
"Then she doesn't have to meet with me."
A small smile tugged at Tasha's lips. "Look at you, setting boundaries already."
"I'm trying." I pulled her closer. "I know you think this is a mistake."
"I think Sarah is manipulative and selfish and doesn't deserve a second of your time," Tasha said. "But I also know you. You need to do this or you'll torture yourself with what-ifs. So yes, I'll come. And I'll be watching her like a hawk."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. If she says one thing that feels off, I'm calling her on it. Honor and duty be damned."
I kissed her forehead. "I'm counting on it."
From inside, Paige called out, "Dad! I'm gonna be late!"
Normal life, demanding attention. I squeezed Tasha's hand and headed back inside to grab Paige's backpack and my keys.
"Everything okay?" Paige asked as we headed to the car.
"Everything's fine, kiddo."
"Is Tasha mad about something?"
"No, honey. Why would you think that?"
"She looked mad when you were on the phone. Like, scary mad. Like when Miss Deanna yelled at me."
My heart clenched. Even when we tried to protect her, Paige saw everything.
"She's not mad," I said carefully. "Just protective. She cares about us."
"Good," Paige said simply. "We need someone scary on our side sometimes."
If only she knew how much we were about to need exactly that.