36. Nora
NORA
The lawyer's office is downtown, tucked between a coffee shop and a real estate agency, and we arrive with ten minutes to spare.
Harper's fussy in her carrier, picking up on all the tension, and I'm carrying the diaper bag plus a folder stuffed with every document we could think of. Tyler's got his own folder, equally thick, and we probably look like what we are: two people preparing for war.
The receptionist looks up when we walk in. "Tyler West?"
"That's me."
"Ms. Chen will see you now. Conference room on the left."
Jennifer Chen is probably in her fifties, with sharp eyes and an efficient manner. She shakes both our hands, gestures for us to sit, and immediately opens a legal pad.
"Tell me everything," she says. "From the beginning."
Tyler takes the lead, explaining how Jessica left Harper on his doorstep six months ago. He shows her the note, the photos from that first day, and the text messages where he tried to find Jessica with no response.
I watch him lay out the evidence methodically, and I'm struck by how calm he sounds despite knowing he's terrified.
"And today?" Ms. Chen asks.
"Today she showed up at my house around two thirty-four p.m.," Tyler says. "High on something. Dilated pupils, erratic behavior, and aggression. She pushed past Nora and started making demands about wanting Harper back."
"Did she threaten you?" Ms. Chen looks at me.
"She said she'd get a lawyer. That the courts favor mothers. That Harper was hers, and Tyler couldn't keep her." I pull out my phone and show her the timeline I documented. "She wouldn't leave when asked. Tyler had to threaten to call the police."
Ms. Chen takes notes rapidly. "And you're certain she was under the influence?"
"Positive," Tyler says. "Dilated pupils, the way she was moving, the way she couldn't track. I'm not a clinician, but I know what high looks like. She was high."
"Do you have any proof of her drug use? Text messages, photos, police reports?"
Tyler shakes his head. "Nothing documented. Just what I witnessed today."
"That's going to be a problem." Ms. Chen sets down her pen. "Without documented proof of her substance abuse, it becomes he-said-she-said. And biological mothers do have significant rights, even when they've abandoned their children."
My stomach drops.
"But she left Harper," I say. "For six months. That has to count for something."
"It does. But she could claim postpartum depression, financial hardship, or any number of mitigating factors.
" Ms. Chen looks at Tyler seriously. "The fact that there was never official custody established works against you.
In the eyes of the court, Jessica still has parental rights unless they've been legally terminated. "
"So what do we do?" Tyler's voice is tight.
"We file for emergency custody immediately. Document everything from today: times, statements, and her condition. Install security cameras so that if she shows up again, we have footage. And we prepare for her to file her own custody petition."
"How long does this take?"
"Depends. An emergency custody hearing could be within a week. Full custody battle could take months." Ms. Chen looks between us. "I need to ask. What's your relationship with Ms. Collins here?"
The question hangs in the air, heavy and dangerous.
Tyler doesn't hesitate. "She's Harper's nanny. Has been since the beginning. She lives with us and helps me take care of Harper. She's essential to Harper's stability."
"Just the nanny?" Ms. Chen's eyes are sharp.
I feel Tyler tense beside me.
"She's family," he says carefully. "Harper's attached to her. Removing Nora from the home would be traumatic for Harper."
Ms. Chen makes a note. "I'll need the rest. Mr. West, I read about you in Puck Daily. The team's statement. The relationship is public, so the opposing counsel will know within an hour of being retained. So let's not pretend when we’re in here."
Tyler exhales slowly. "She's my partner. We've been together since January."
"Living together since August."
"Yes."
"Sleeping in the same room?"
A pause. "Not consistently. Mostly separate rooms. We'd been keeping it that way intentionally for Harper's sake, for exactly this kind of scrutiny."
Ms. Chen makes another note. Doesn't comment. Then she sets down her pen and looks at both of us, and her expression has softened a fraction. Not warm, but something less sharp.
"The court will scrutinize your living arrangement," she says.
"A single father living with his attractive young nanny who became his girlfriend.
You should prepare for that to be ugly." She turns to me.
"Ms. Collins, I'm going to ask you something I have to ask.
Have you considered that your presence in the home, in this configuration, complicates Mr. West's case?
That stepping back or moving out, and returning to a strictly professional arrangement—possibly even suspending the relationship publicly—might give him a cleaner argument in court? "
The words hit me exactly the way she intends them to.
They've been there since Jessica was in our living room.
They've been there since the practice facility’s no-trespass notice.
They've been there, honestly, since the first time someone in a coffee shop assumed we were a family and I didn't correct them.
I've just been refusing to let myself look directly at them.
Tyler's hand finds mine under the table, gripping tight.
"No," he says firmly. "Nora's not going anywhere."
"Mr. West—"
"She's been Harper's primary caregiver for six months. Harper knows her, trusts her, loves her. Taking that away would be cruel and stupid." Tyler's voice is rising now. "And frankly, Harper having a stable, loving caregiver should help my case, not hurt it."
"In theory, yes. But—"
"There's no but." Tyler stands up, pulling me up with him. "We came here for legal advice on how to protect my daughter from her unstable biological mother, not to be told that the woman who's helped me raise Harper should leave. If that's your advice, we'll find another lawyer."
"Sit down, Mr. West. I'm not telling you what to do. I'm warning you about what opposing counsel might argue. Better you hear it from me now, than be blindsided in court."
Tyler sits slowly, but he doesn't let go of my hand.
I don't say anything. Ms. Chen has just suggested out loud the thing I have been thinking about, in pieces, since Jessica was in our living room.
The thing I haven't let myself fully say. The thing Tyler has just refused to consider on my behalf, in front of a lawyer, while he’s holding my hand under a table.
I let him do that. For now. Because we are in front of a lawyer, arguing about it here would be the wrong way to argue about it.
But I haven't agreed to anything.
"That said," Ms. Chen continues, "Ms. Collins's presence could also work in your favor. It shows Harper has consistent care, a stable home environment, and multiple caring adults invested in her well-being. We just need to be prepared to defend it."
The meeting continues for another thirty minutes.
Ms. Chen outlines our strategy: file for emergency custody, document everything, and prepare for Jessica to fight back.
She gives us homework: a detailed timeline of Harper's care, character references, medical records, and proof of Tyler's involvement in Harper's life.
We leave with a retainer agreement and a court date pending.
The drive home is silent.
Harper's asleep in her carrier, exhausted from the stressful day, and I'm staring out the window with my hands folded in my lap, thinking.
Tyler reaches across the console for my hand. I let him take it. I don't squeeze back.
He notices. Of course he notices. He doesn't say anything.
We pull into the driveway at six. Tyler unbuckles Harper and carries her inside, while I follow with the diaper bag. The house is quiet, exactly the way we left it, and somehow that's worse, like the world hasn't registered what happened today, like it's just us absorbing it.
I put the diaper bag down. Tyler hands me Harper, who's stirring, and I take her toward the kitchen for a bottle.
"Red."
I stop. I don't turn around.
"Let's get her settled," I say. "We can talk after."
"Okay."
We do the bedtime routine the way we always do. Tyler runs the bath, I get her in pajamas, he gives her the bottle, and I read the story. The choreography is muscle memory now. Neither of us says anything that isn't directed at Harper.
She goes down at seven-forty-five. We stand in the nursery doorway watching her settle into sleep, the way we always do, and Tyler's standing close enough that I can feel the heat of him.
I move first. Down the hall, toward the guest room.
"Nora."
I stop in the doorway with my back to him.
"You're going in there?"
"Yeah."
"You haven't slept in there in a week."
"I know."
"Red."
I don't turn around. If I turn around, I'll cry. He's still standing in the hallway. I can feel him there.
"Talk to me," he says. "Please."
I turn around.
He looks tired. Not the kind of tiredness that goes away with sleep. The other kind.
"The lawyer scared me," I say.
"Jessica scared you."
"Yeah. Both of them. But the lawyer scared me more."
He waits.
"Jessica scared me because she was in our living room. The lawyer scared me because she made it sound like the most damaging thing in your life right now isn't Jessica showing up high, it's me—being here—the way it looks."
"She's a lawyer. She gets paid to think like the other lawyer."
"I know."
"So don't take it personally."
"She wasn't wrong, though, Tyler. About how it looks. To a stranger. To a judge who doesn't know us. That part of what she said is just true."
"Doesn't matter what's true."
"It does matter what's true. That's the whole problem."
He runs his hand through his hair. I can see him wanting to argue, but deciding not to.
"Okay," he says. “So what are you saying?”
"I'm saying we should be careful until the hearing."
"Define careful."
"I sleep in here. Until the hearing."