Chapter 29 Tasha
twenty-nine
tasha
The drive back to Nate's house was quiet, both of us processing what had just happened. I kept replaying Sarah's performance in my head—because that's what it was, a performance. Every gesture calculated, every word chosen for maximum effect.
"She's going to want primary custody," I said as Nate pulled into his driveway.
He cut the engine but didn't move to get out. "What makes you say that?"
"Because she's not really interested in 'starting small.' That whole song and dance about coffee dates and stepping back? That's to make you lower your guard." I turned to face him. "She's checking boxes, Nate. Showing she tried to be reasonable, that you were the one who made things adversarial."
"Maybe she really does want to take it slow."
"Did you see her face when she saw me? Just for a second before she put the mask back on?"
He was quiet for a moment. "Yeah."
"I'm a complication she didn't expect. Living proof that Paige has a mother figure already." I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "God, the way she said 'she's lucky to have someone who'll fight for her.' Like I'm the nanny getting too attached."
"You're not—"
"I know what I am to Paige. And to you." I touched his face, feeling the tension in his jaw. "But Sarah doesn't see it that way. To her, I'm just an obstacle."
We went inside, where the evidence of our life together was everywhere. Paige's school photos on the fridge, mixed in with pictures from our beach trip. My nursing textbooks on the coffee table next to Nate's meal planning notebook. Three sets of shoes by the door.
"I need to call Sophia," I said suddenly.
Nate looked up from where he was staring at Sarah's photo album. "Why?"
"Because she's been through this. The ex coming back, the threats, the legal stuff. She'll know what to watch for."
He nodded slowly. "Good idea."
I found Sophia’s number in my phone and hit call. She answered on the second ring.
"Tasha? Everything okay?"
"Not really. Are you free to talk?"
"Always. What's going on?"
I gave her the abbreviated version; Sarah's return, the legal papers, today's meeting. When I finished, Sophia was quiet for a long moment.
"Let me guess," she said finally. "She was perfectly reasonable. Understanding. Just wants what's best for Paige."
"Exactly."
"And she had evidence of how much she's changed. Therapy, career, stability."
"A whole photo album."
Sophia laughed, but it was bitter. "They all read from the same playbook. Troy did the same thing. Showed up claiming he'd been to therapy, found religion, whatever. All he really wanted was to hurt me for leaving."
"What did you do?"
"Gave him exactly what he asked for—supervised visitation with Madison. Documented everything. Every no-show, every manipulation, every time Madison came home upset." Her voice hardened. "It took six months, but eventually he showed his true colors. The judge saw right through him."
"Six months," I repeated, feeling sick. "Of putting Madison through that."
"It was hell," Sophia admitted. "But it was the only way to protect her long-term. If I'd refused from the start, he could have painted me as the vindictive ex keeping him from his child."
"That's what Sarah's counting on."
"Probably. But here's the thing. Nate has eleven years of being the only parent. That matters. Sarah can't just waltz in and claim equal rights after abandoning her baby."
"Tell that to her lawyer."
"Her lawyer's playing a game too. Hoping you'll be so scared of losing that you'll settle for shared custody without a fight."
I sank onto the couch, suddenly exhausted. "I hate this. Paige is happy. We're happy. Why does Sarah get to blow that up just because she finally decided she wants to play mom?"
"Because biology gives her the right to try," Sophia said gently. "But trying and succeeding are different things. You and Nate need a lawyer. A good one."
"He wants to give her a chance first. One supervised visit."
"That's probably smart, actually. Shows good faith." Sophia paused. "But Tasha? Document everything. Every word, every gesture, every response from Paige. Build your own evidence file."
After we hung up, I found Nate in the kitchen, making Paige's lunch for tomorrow with mechanical precision. Turkey sandwich, apple slices, granola bar, juice box. The same lunch he'd made a thousand times.
"Sophia says we need a lawyer," I said.
"After the visit. See how it goes first."
I wanted to argue, but I could see the weight he was carrying. The impossible position Sarah had put him in: refuse and look like the bad guy, or agree and risk everything.
"When are you going to tell Paige?" I asked.
"Tonight. She deserves to know." He sealed the sandwich in a container with shaking hands. "How do I explain that the mother who abandoned her wants to meet her? How do I make that okay?"
"You tell her the truth. Age-appropriately, but the truth."
"Which is what? That Sarah was young and overwhelmed? That she's better now?" He laughed bitterly. "Or do I tell her that this is probably about money or a new boyfriend or God knows what else?"
I wrapped my arms around him from behind, feeling the tension in his shoulders. "You tell her that Sarah gave birth to her but wasn't ready to be a mom. That she's asked to meet her. That it's Paige's choice whether she wants to."
"What if she says yes?"
"Then we support her. We're there every step of the way. And when Sarah inevitably disappoints her, we're there for that too."
He turned in my arms, pulling me close. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Lucky for you, you won't have to find out."
We stayed like that until we heard Paige's key in the lock. After-school program until 4:30, same routine every day. The normalcy of it made my chest ache.
"Hey Dad! Hey Tasha!" She bounced into the kitchen, backpack sliding off one shoulder. "Guess what? Maya's having a sleepover for her birthday and I'm invited! Can I go?"
"When is it?" Nate asked, and I could see him filing the information away, already thinking about how it might conflict with whatever Sarah had planned.
"Two weeks. We're going to watch movies and make friendship bracelets and Maya's mom said we could stay up until midnight!"
"Sounds fun," I said, ruffling her hair. "Hey kiddo, why don't you get started on homework? Your dad and I need to talk to you about something in a bit."
Paige's face immediately shifted to worry. "Am I in trouble?"
"No, baby. Nothing like that."
"Is someone sick? Did something happen to Mrs. Swanson?"
"Everyone's fine," Nate assured her. "Just... some grown-up stuff we need to discuss. Go do your homework first, okay?"
She nodded but I could see the wheels turning. Paige was too smart not to pick up on the tension.
After she headed to her room, Nate and I looked at each other.
"Together?" I asked.
"Together," he confirmed.
An hour later, homework allegedly complete, Paige sat between us on the couch, looking smaller than usual. Nate had that careful expression he got when he was about to deliver difficult news.
"Sweetie," he started, then stopped, running a hand through his hair. "Okay. So. You know how sometimes we've talked about your biological mom?"
Paige went very still. "The one who left when I was a baby?"
"Yes. Well, she... she contacted me. She wants to meet you."
"Why?"
Trust Paige to cut straight to the heart of it.
"She says she's in a better place now. More stable. She'd like to get to know you."
"But she didn't want to know me before."
"It's complicated, baby. Sometimes adults make choices that—"
"That's stupid," Paige interrupted, which was so unlike her that both Nate and I blinked. "She didn't want me when I was little and now she does? That doesn't make sense."
"You're right," I said. "It doesn't make a lot of sense."
Paige looked at me, then at Nate. "Do I have to?"
"No," Nate said immediately. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."
"But?" Paige was too perceptive to miss the hesitation.
"But it might be good to meet her once. Just to see. If you hate it, we don't do it again."
"Will you be there?"
"Absolutely."
"Both of you?"
Nate glanced at me. "If that's what you want."
"I want Tasha there too." Paige's hand found mine. "Is that okay?"
"Of course it is," I said, squeezing gently.
Paige was quiet for a long moment. Then: "What's she like?"
"I don't really know anymore," Nate admitted. "She seemed... different. Older. More put together."
"Is she pretty?"
The question caught us both off guard. Such a kid thing to wonder about.
"She's... yes, she's pretty," Nate said carefully.
"Prettier than Tasha?"
"Hey!" I protested, trying to lighten the moment. "I'm right here!"
Paige smiled a little. "I'm just asking."
"No one's prettier than Tasha," Nate said, and the simple certainty in his voice made my throat tight.
"That’s right," Paige said. Then, more quietly: "What if I don't like her?"
"Then we leave," Nate said. "Simple as that."
"What if she doesn't like me?"
Oh, this kid. I pulled her into my side. "Then she's an idiot. Because you're the best kid in the entire world."
"You have to say that."
"Doesn't make it less true."
Paige leaned into me, and I felt the weight of her trust like a physical thing. This little girl who'd already been left once, being asked to open herself up to that same person again.
"Okay," she said finally. "I'll meet her. Once."
"You're sure?" Nate asked.
"No. But you think I should, right?"
The raw honesty of it broke my heart. Nate looked like he'd been punched.
"I think..." he started, then stopped. "I think you're brave. And whatever you decide, we've got you."
"Promise?"
"Promise," we said together.
Later, after Paige was in bed, Nate and I sat on the back deck despite the evening chill. He'd been quiet since our talk with Paige, that thousand-yard stare I recognized from his PTSD episodes.
"She's going to hurt her," he said finally. "Sarah's going to disappoint that little girl, and there's nothing I can do to stop it."
"Maybe. Or maybe Paige will see right through her the way she saw through the whole situation tonight."
"She shouldn't have to. She's eleven. She should be worried about sleepovers and friendship bracelets, not whether her biological mother actually wants her."
"You're right. But this is the hand we've been dealt."
He was quiet for a moment. "Did you mean what you said? About documenting everything?"
"Yes. Sophia thinks—"
"No, I mean... you're planning for war. Getting ready to fight this all the way."
I turned to face him. "Aren't you?"
"I keep hoping it won't come to that. That Sarah will see how happy Paige is and back off."
"And if she doesn't?"
"Then yes. War." His voice went hard in a way I rarely heard. "She can visit. She can pretend to care. But she's not taking my daughter."
"Our daughter," I corrected softly.
He looked at me, something vulnerable in his eyes. "You mean that?"
"Every word. I know I'm not her mother, but—"
"You are, though." Nate cut me off. "In every way that matters, you're her mom. Have been for months now, Tasha.”
The words hit me unexpectedly hard. I'd been so focused on protecting them that I hadn't let myself really feel the weight of what we'd become to each other.
"I love her," I said simply. "I'd do anything to protect her."
"I know. That's why I need you there. When Paige meets Sarah. Because I'll be too busy hoping for the best to see what's really happening."
"And I'll be watching Sarah like a hawk."
"Exactly." He pulled me closer. "We make a good team."
"The best," I agreed.
But as we sat there in the dark, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were about to be tested in ways we couldn't imagine. Sarah had played her opening move perfectly—reasonable, understanding, impossible to refuse without looking petty.
What would her next move be? And would we be ready for it?
I thought about Paige asking if she had to meet Sarah. The resignation in her voice when she'd agreed. Eleven years old and already learning that sometimes you had to do things that might hurt you, just to prove you'd tried.
It wasn't fair. None of this was fair.
But fair didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was protecting our family.
Our family. The word settled into my chest, warm and certain despite everything.
Sarah might have given birth to Paige, but we were her family. And I'd burn the whole world down before I let anyone hurt her.
Even—especially—her biological mother.