Chapter 32 Nate
thirty-two
nate
That evening, after Paige was safely in bed, I sat at my kitchen table staring at my phone. I'd been holding it for twenty minutes, Sarah's contact information pulled up, cursor hovering over the call button.
"You're not actually thinking of calling her," Tasha said from the doorway.
"She'll want to know how I thought it went."
"How you thought it went!?" Tasha moved into the kitchen, settling across from me. "Nathan James, your daughter told her biological mother to her face that she didn't want a relationship with her. That woman got angry at an eleven-year-old for not performing gratitude. How do you think it went?"
I set the phone down, scrubbing my hands over my face. "It was a disaster."
"For Sarah, yes. For us... it was Paige being honest about what she wants. Which should matter more than some legal strategy."
"You saw her face when Paige said that about you being her mom."
"I saw her calculating how to use it," Tasha said grimly. "That wasn't a hurt mother, Nate. That was someone realizing their plan had hit a snag."
My phone buzzed.
Sarah
Nate, I think today went well, all things considered. Paige just needs time to warm up to me. Perhaps we could try again next weekend? - Sarah
I showed the text to Tasha, who read it with growing incredulity.
"Went well?" she said. "Your daughter literally rejected her to her face, and she thinks it went well?"
"She's delusional."
"No," Tasha said, her voice sharp with sudden understanding. "She's not delusional. She's playing a longer game. Think about it. If she acknowledges that today was a disaster, she has to explain why. But if she pretends it went fine and asks for another meeting, and you say no..."
"Then I'm the one being difficult. The one keeping them apart."
"Exactly." Tasha leaned forward. "She's setting you up, Nate. Every text, every request, every 'reasonable' suggestion—it's all building a case that you're the obstacle."
I stared at the phone, feeling trapped. "So what do I do? If I agree to another meeting, I put Paige through that again. If I refuse, I hand Sarah ammunition."
"You talk to a lawyer. Tonight. Tomorrow at the latest."
"It's Friday night—"
"Then Monday morning, first thing. Because I have a very bad feeling about what comes next."
As if summoned by her words, my phone buzzed again. This time it was an email notification.
Subject: AMENDED PETITION FOR MODIFICATION OF CUSTODY
My blood went cold as I opened the attachment. The legal language was dense, but one phrase jumped out at me like a neon sign: PETITION FOR PRIMARY PHYSICAL CUSTODY.
Not joint custody. Not visitation. Primary custody.
"Tasha," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Tasha.”
She was already reading over my shoulder, and I felt her body go rigid. "That fucking bitch," she breathed. "She filed this before the meeting even happened."
The timestamp on the document was 4:47 PM. We'd still been in the coffee shop.
"She was never planning to take it slow," I realized. "The whole thing was a performance. Make me look unreasonable for refusing, then ambush me with this."
Tasha's face had gone pale, and she was gripping the edge of the table so hard her knuckles were white. "I think I'm going to be sick," she said, and rushed toward the bathroom.
I sat alone in my kitchen, staring at legal papers that threatened to take away my entire world, listening to the woman I loved being violently ill in the next room.
This wasn't about Sarah wanting a relationship with Paige. This was about Sarah wanting Paige, period. For whatever reason, for whatever purpose, she was going to try to take my daughter away from me.
And I had no idea how to stop her.
But as I listened to Tasha retching in the bathroom, one thing became crystal clear: I wasn't going to fight this battle alone.
We had built something beautiful together, the three of us. A family that worked, that loved each other, that made each other better.
Sarah could bring her lawyers and her money and her calculated manipulation.
But she was about to learn that some things were worth going to war for.
And she'd just declared war on the wrong family.