Page 89 of No Greater Love
"She shouldn't have to. She's eleven. She should be worried about sleepovers and friendship bracelets, not whether her biological mother actually wants her."
"You're right. But this is the hand we've been dealt."
He was quiet for a moment. "Did you mean what you said? About documenting everything?"
"Yes. Sophia thinks?—"
"No, I mean... you're planning for war. Getting ready to fight this all the way."
I turned to face him. "Aren't you?"
"I keep hoping it won't come to that. That Sarah will see how happy Paige is and back off."
"And if she doesn't?"
"Then yes. War." His voice went hard in a way I rarely heard. "She can visit. She can pretend to care. But she's not taking my daughter."
"Our daughter," I corrected softly.
He looked at me, something vulnerable in his eyes. "You mean that?"
"Every word. I know I'm not her mother, but?—"
"Youare, though." Nate cut me off. "In every way that matters, you're her mom. Have been for months now, Tasha.”
The words hit me unexpectedly hard. I'd been so focused on protecting them that I hadn't let myself really feel the weight of what we'd become to each other.
"I love her," I said simply. "I'd do anything to protect her."
"I know. That's why I need you there. When Paige meets Sarah. Because I'll be too busy hoping for the best to see what's really happening."
"And I'll be watching Sarah like a hawk."
"Exactly." He pulled me closer. "We make a good team."
"The best," I agreed.
But as we sat there in the dark, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were about to be tested in ways we couldn't imagine. Sarah had played her opening move perfectly—reasonable, understanding, impossible to refuse without looking petty.
What would her next move be? And would we be ready for it?
I thought about Paige asking if she had to meet Sarah. The resignation in her voice when she'd agreed. Eleven years old and already learning that sometimes you had to do things that might hurt you, just to prove you'd tried.
It wasn't fair. None of this was fair.
But fair didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was protecting our family.
Our family. The word settled into my chest, warm and certain despite everything.
Sarah might have given birth to Paige, but we were her family. And I'd burn the whole world down before I let anyone hurt her.
Even—especially—her biological mother.
thirty
nate
I packedPaige's comfort items into her small backpack with mechanical precision, trying to keep my hands steady. Her tie-dye shirt from the beach trip, carefully folded. The stuffed axolotl she'd had since she was six. A granola bar, because eleven-year-olds got hungry at the worst possible moments.
