Page 20 of No Greater Love
I couldn't help laughing. "Your dad is amazing, Paige. But some things are just better coming from another woman. Not because he doesn't know his stuff—clearly he does—but because he hasn't lived it."
She nodded slowly. "Like how he knows all about broken bones but still freaked out when I broke my wrist last year."
"Exactly."
As the afternoon progressed, we settled into a surprisingly comfortable routine. I found a heating pad in a cabinet, and we camped out on the couch. Paige mentioned a book she was reading, which led to a debate about the best fantasy series, which led to her showing me her bookshelf.
She gradually relaxed, her initial embarrassment fading. I showed her how to track her period on a calendar app. We talked about school, about her science project on water filtration, about her best friend Zoe.
At some point, I realized I was enjoying myself. Not just tolerating the situation, but actually having fun with this serious, bright kiddo who was so clearly Crawford's daughter in every way that mattered.
Around four, I heated up some soup I found in the freezer (labeled "Chicken Noodle - Homemade"). We were eating at the kitchen table when Paige looked up suddenly.
"Did you know my mom left when I was a baby?"
The question caught me off guard. "I think your dad mentioned it once."
She nodded, stirring her soup. "I used to think she left because of me. But Dad says she just wasn't ready to be a mom, and that was about her, not about me."
"Your dad's right."
"Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have a mom. For stuff like today. It's really nice having another girl around." She glanced up. "But Dad does pretty good."
"He does better than pretty good, Paige. He's kind of incredible."
"Yeah." She smiled, a flash of braces. "He is."
The front door opened at exactly 7:27 PM. Nathan appeared in the kitchen doorway, still in scrubs, his face lined with fatigue but eyes immediately seeking out Paige. He came over and wrapped her up in a bear hug, twirling her around once before setting her back down.
"Hey, sweetheart. You okay?"
Paige nodded. "I'm fine, Dad. Tasha helped me."
Relief washed over his features. "Good. That's good." He turned to me. "Tasha, can I talk to you for a minute?"
I followed him into the living room, where he turned to me with an intensity that was almost uncomfortable.
"What happened? Is she okay? Why was she locked in the bathroom?"
"She got her first period. At school. No supplies."
Understanding dawned on his face, followed by a complex mix of emotions: relief, empathy, and something that looked almost like wistfulness.
"Ah." He ran a hand through his short hair. "The emergency kit. I should have checked."
"You can't anticipate everything, Crawford."
"I should have," he insisted. "I knew this was coming. The statistical window for?—"
"Oh my God, you dork, shutup! You didnottalk about 'statistical windows' with Paige!" I couldn't help the laugh that escaped.
A faint flush colored his cheeks. "I may have used more age-appropriate language."
"Like 'cervical mucus'?"
His flush deepened. "She told you about that?"
"Relax, Crawford. You did good. Better than most dads would have. But some things... well, they're just easier coming from someone who's been there."
