Page 157 of A Temporary Forever

“Is it a good time?” I walk closer.

She nods, or rather, she blinks her answer. Maybe I was too hasty in pushing for a meeting this early after her incident.

“This is my wife, Celeste.” Fuck, I’m really glad she’s beside me. “I’m sorry we’re meeting under these circumstances.”

“Nice to meet you, Reese.” Celeste steps to the foot of the bed.

Reese answers with another almost unperceivable nod.

I had played this conversation out in my head several times since we arrived at the hospital two nights ago. To be honest, I imagined it a few times since Mia showed up.

Standing here now, in a room with the woman whobrought up my amazing daughter, I’m not quite sure where to start.

“Greta told me you’d like shared custody…” Reese breaks the silence. “What about your father?”

The bitterness in her voice mirrors the bile rising in my stomach at the mere mention of him.

“We’re no longer teenagers. He doesn’t rule my life. I’m sorry for what he did to you and Mia.”

Reese snorts weakly. “It’s not like we would have driven into the sunset together. We were so young. At least he paid for my school and got me a head start.”

“He also robbed me of a decade with my daughter,” I snap.

Celeste puts her hand on my back, and my misplaced anger melts a little. But the idea of my father getting any credit, as Reese suggested, is nauseating.

“Look,” I say, hoping to redirect the conversation. “My father has no say in this. You don’t need to worry.”

“I don’t want Mia exposed to his brand of evil.”

She talks about my father, but she might be including me in his kind of evil. “She will never meet him if I have anything to say about it. And I hope I can prove to you I’m not him.”

She assesses me skeptically. “With money?”

“With actions.”

She looks away, seemingly searching for answers in the large window. Celeste gives me an encouragingnod. It helps a bit, but the heavy feeling that I’ve failed this conversation persists.

“Mia told me she’s been visiting you for months now. She seems happy to continue, so I’m not going to prevent that.”

“I appreciate that.”

“I’m not doing it for you, I’m doing it for Mia.” Reese doesn’t look at me, keeping her gaze on the window.

“I hope over time you can trust me more.” What else can I say at this point? “I’d like to help out financially. I’m starting a trust fund for Mia, and opening an account for you—”

“I don’t need your money.” She winces like she caught herself lying.

“Yes, you do, Reese. And you deserve it. For choosing to keep Mia when my father paid you to get an abortion. For bringing her up by yourself, and doing such an amazing job. For all the times I wasn’t there to help. We don’t really know each other, and I know this must feel like a power trip to you. But it’s not. Like you, I’m doing it for Mia.”

Reese studies me with a tired gaze. I can almost see how my words slowly make their way through her pride and independence, and she reluctantly accepts them at face value. Not trusting me yet, but giving our family a chance.

Instead of acknowledging her decision to accept directly, she shifts her eyes to Celeste. “I hear you’re a dancer, and you’ve been training with Mia.”

There’s a new softness in her face when she speaks about our daughter and her hobby.

“Yes, Mia is very talented and eager. I’m so glad she’s back with her hip-hop crew,” Celeste says.

“I have two left feet, so I’m not sure where she got it from.” Reese pushes up off her hands, making herself more comfortable.

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