Page 92 of No Greater Love
As we gathered our things, I caught Sarah watching Paige with an expression that made my skin crawl. It wasn't sadness or longing or even hurt. It was calculation. Like she was already figuring out how to use this interaction to her advantage.
Outside the coffee shop, Paige immediately reached for both Nate's and my hands.
"I don't like her," she said simply. "She doesn’t feel right."
"What do you mean, kiddo?" Nate asked.
Paige was quiet for a moment, trying to find words for something she felt but couldn't fully explain. "She wasn't asking about me because she wanted to know. She was asking because... because she thought she was supposed to. Like when kids at school pretend to be your friend because the teacher told them to include you."
Out of the mouths of babes. My eleven-year-old had just perfectly diagnosed narcissistic manipulation.
"You did great in there," I told her, squeezing her hand. "You were honest and polite, and that's all anyone can ask."
"Are we going to have to do that again?" Paige asked.
Nate and I exchanged glances over her head. "I don't know, sweetheart," he said honestly. "I hope not."
But even as he said it, I could see the wheels turning in his head. Paige's clear rejection of Sarah would look bad in court. A judge might see it as evidence that Nate had poisoned his daughter against her biological mother, rather than what it actually was—a child recognizing that someone claiming to love her actually felt nothing for her at all.
Sarah had gotten exactly what she needed from this meeting. The question was: What was she going to do with it?
thirty-two
nate
That evening,after Paige was safely in bed, I sat at my kitchen table staring at my phone. I'd been holding it for twenty minutes, Sarah's contact information pulled up, cursor hovering over the call button.
"You're not actually thinking of calling her," Tasha said from the doorway.
"She'll want to know how I thought it went."
"How you thought it went!?" Tasha moved into the kitchen, settling across from me. "Nathan James, your daughter told her biological mother to herfacethat she didn't want a relationship with her. That woman got angry at an eleven-year-old for not performing gratitude. How do youthinkit went?"
I set the phone down, scrubbing my hands over my face. "It was a disaster."
"For Sarah, yes. For us... it was Paige being honest about what she wants. Which should matter more than some legal strategy."
"You saw her face when Paige said that about you being her mom."
"I saw her calculating how to use it," Tasha said grimly. "That wasn't a hurt mother, Nate. That was someone realizing their plan had hit a snag."
My phone buzzed.
Sarah
Nate, I think today went well, all things considered. Paige just needs time to warm up to me. Perhaps we could try again next weekend? - Sarah
I showed the text to Tasha, who read it with growing incredulity.
"Went well?" she said. "Your daughter literally rejected her to her face, and she thinks it went well?"
"She's delusional."
"No," Tasha said, her voice sharp with sudden understanding. "She's not delusional. She's playing a longer game. Think about it. If she acknowledges that today was a disaster, she has to explain why. But if she pretends it went fine and asks for another meeting, and you say no..."
"Then I'm the one being difficult. The one keeping them apart."
"Exactly." Tasha leaned forward. "She's setting you up, Nate. Every text, every request, every 'reasonable' suggestion—it's all building a case that you're the obstacle."
