Page 147 of A Temporary Forever

Okay, I didn’t expect this turn of conversation, but let’s go with it. “Forgive me if I have a doubt or two, given that her—our—daughter found her OD’d on the floor.”

“You have no right to judge her. Where were you for the last decade?” she attacks, stepping back from me like I’m a physical threat to her.

“I didn’t know about Mia. But I think I have the right to pass judgment, given the current circumstances.”

I don’t understand what Greta’s problem is, but fuck, I’m going to do everything possible to make Mia safe and comfortable. Loved.

“You can’t take her away. Reese has lost way too much. I know you believe your money can buy anything, but if you take Mia, my sister won’t make it.” Greta’s combative attitude wanes. She sags to an empty chair, her head hanging.

“My daughter didn’t know me for most of her life, so I’m going to do all I can to make sure she has both parents well and present as much as possible.”

Greta lifts her gaze. She studies me for a longmoment before she speaks. “Reese is a self-employed bookkeeper. After Mia was born, she used your father’s money to get through school and got a CPA certification. She wanted a career that allowed her to work from home, so she could be there for Mia.”

Greta stands up and paces the small space. “Everything changed a year ago when she was in an accident. Long story short, she became addicted to painkillers, and everything escalated from there.”

From this short but efficient summary, I gather Reese is an admirable mother who became a victim of unfortunate circumstances. The knowledge offers relief and agony at the same time. “I had no idea.”

“I don’t understand how you found Mia—”

“I didn’t. She found me.”

I think of the texts from Reese, the ones that said she had no desire to see me. Those texts reinforced my belief that she was only after my money. But now I see the story is different.

“Reese lost her clients and their house. They’ve been living with me. She seemed better, and when the fridge got full again, I assumed that was the case. That she got some clients back.”

I need to move, to process, to let out the simmering frustration. “Let’s go back to Mia. She shouldn’t be alone right now.”

I don’t wait for Greta, feeling like a caged animal here.

I don’t have all the pieces yet, but even without the full picture, two things are obvious.

My daughter has more courage than me.

And I should have fucking tried harder to make our relationship legit. To find out how she lives on those days, during the long stretches of time, when she isn’t with me.

I move with renewed determination, knowing full well that I can’t fix any of those things tonight. I march back to the hallway, where Celeste sits with Mia’s head in her lap, and it hits me.

In my efforts to fix everything, I didn’t realize that sometimes all people need from me isn’t my money, or me fixing their problems.

It’s just being there for them. Supporting them. Or simply keeping them safe when they feel vulnerable.

Just like my wife is doing right now for my daughter.

I sit beside them, and Mia stirs, sighing in her sleep.

Greta doesn’t join our little circle, but sits at the end of the row across from us, closing her eyes.

“You have a smart daughter. Thank God she decided to find you when she struggled the most.” Celeste gives mea sad smile.

“I wish I’d accepted her the way she deserved.”

“You got there eventually.”

“But perhaps too late. If I’d cared about them better, I could have prevented this.”

“You had your reasons—”

“Fucked-up reasons.”

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