Page 75 of No Greater Love
I looked down at the custody petition again, and all those old voices started whispering in my head. The ones that said I wasn't enough. That I'd never been enough.
I couldn't save those Marines in Fallujah.
I couldn't save the little girl in the pink shirt.
I couldn't make Sarah want to stay.
And now, apparently, I couldn't even keep the daughter I'd raised from the moment she drew her first breath.
Maybe I'd been fooling myself all along. Maybe Tasha and this perfect weekend had been just another temporary thing, another good moment before the inevitable collapse.
Maybe I really wasn't enough, and it never had been.
And maybe Sarah was just here to prove it.
twenty-five
tasha
By the timeNate came inside twenty minutes later, I had Paige settled on the couch with a movie and a promise that pizza was on the way. She'd accepted my explanation about "boring grown-up paperwork" with the resilience of an eleven-year-old who'd had four perfect days and wasn't going to let anything ruin her mood.
"Is 'The Emperor's New Groove' okay?" I'd asked, scrolling through streaming options.
"I've never seen it," Paige had replied, already curled up with her stuffed axolotl.
"Oh, you're in for a treat. I probably watched this a hundred times when I was your age."
Now, as Nate finally walked through the front door, his face looked like he'd aged a decade in the space of our conversation. The legal papers were clutched in his hand, and his eyes had that hollow look I recognized from the worst trauma cases in the ER.
"Pizza will be here in thirty minutes," I said quietly, nodding toward the living room where Paige was already giggling at Kuzco's antics. "She's good for now."
He nodded and sank onto one of the kitchen chairs like his legs had given out. I sat across from him, close enough to reach out if he needed it but giving him space to process.
"I haven't felt like this since Iraq," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
My heart clenched. I'd seen glimpses of what his service had cost him, but he'd never put it in those terms before.
"Tell me what you're thinking," I said gently.
He set the papers on the table between us, smoothing them out with shaking hands. "I always thought... if Sarah ever wanted back in Paige's life, she'd call. Maybe send an email. We'd talk about it like adults." He laughed, the sound bitter. "I never imagined lawyers and court papers and... this."
I picked up the documents, scanning the legal language with growing unease. "Modification of custody. That's not just asking for visitation, Nate. She's asking for joint custody."
"I know." His voice cracked. "After eleven years. Eleven years of nothing, and now she wants to take Paige away from the only life she's ever known."
"Why now?" I asked, though I suspected I already knew. "What changed?"
"I sent an email to her parents. About us. About you being part of our lives." He buried his face in his hands. "This is all my fault. I opened the door."
"No," I said firmly. "This is not your fault. You shared good news with people who should have been happy for you. For Paige. If they passed that information to Sarah with malicious intent, that's on them."
He looked up at me, and I could see all his old fears written across his face. "What if she's right? What if Paige needs her biological mother? What if I've been selfish keeping them apart?"
"Nate." I reached across the table and took his hands. "Listen to me. Sarah walked away when Paige was three months old. She made her choice. You didn't keep them apart—she chose to leave."
"But she's her mother--"
"No," I interrupted, more forcefully than I'd intended. "Being a mother isn't about biology. It's about showing up. It's about being there when your child is scared or sick or just needs someone to listen. You've been doing that for eleven years. YOU are her parent."
