Page 77 of No Greater Love
The lie tasted bitter. Everything about this was for her to worry about, but she didn't know it yet. Couldn't know it yet. Not until I understood what we were facing.
My phone buzzed on the counter. Unknown number, local area code. My hand hesitated over it.
"Aren't you going to answer?" Paige asked.
I forced a smile. "Probably spam."
But something in my gut knew better. I picked up on the fourth ring.
"Hello?"
"Nate?" The voice was different… older, more tentative.
But unmistakable.
"It's Sarah."
The kitchen suddenly felt too small. I stood abruptly, gesturing to Paige that I needed to take this outside. She rolled her eyes at adult weirdness and went back to her cereal.
I stepped onto the back deck, closing the door carefully behind me. "Sarah."
"I know the papers were a shock." Her voice carried a rehearsed quality, like she'd practiced this speech. "My lawyer insisted it was the best way to... formalize things. I just want to be involved in Paige's life. I've made mistakes, I know, but I've changed. Can we meet? Just to talk about what's best for her?"
My jaw clenched.What's best for her?As if she had any idea what that meant.
"You've been gone for eleven years," I said, keeping my voice level. "Not a call. Not a card.Nothing."
"I know." A pause, then her voice dropped to something that almost sounded vulnerable. "I wasn't ready then, Nate. I was young and drowning. But I'm ready now. I'm in therapy, I have a stable job—marketing, actually. Remote work with good benefits. I even bought a place in Rosewood Hills. Three bedrooms, big yard. The kind of place a kid would love."
The specificity of it set off warning bells. Like she'd prepared a resume for motherhood.
"I want to know my daughter," she continued. "My therapist says it's crucial I re-establish this relationship before I... before I move forward with my life. Paige deserves to know her real family."
Real family.As if eleven years of bedtime stories and scraped knees and science projects didn't count.
"She barely knows you exist," I said.
"And whose choice was that?" The words came out sharp, almost accusatory, with an edge of entitlement that reminded me of the Sarah who'd walked out our door eleven years ago. Then, as if catching herself, she softened again. "I'm not blaming you, Nate. You did what you thought was best. But she has a right to know her mother, doesn't she?"
The worst part was, buried under all my anger and fear, some part of me wondered if she was right. What if Paige did need her mother? What if I'd been selfish somehow, keeping them apart?
"I need to think about it," I said.
"That's all I'm asking. Just think about it. I'm staying in town, at the Hampton Inn. I can meet whenever works for you." Another pause. "Nate? I really have changed. I want to prove that to you. To both of you."
After I hung up, I stood on the deck, staring at nothing. The morning sun felt too bright, too normal for what was happening.
The sliding door opened behind me. Tasha stepped out, coffee mug in hand. She'd been staying over more often since we got back, and Paige had stopped commenting on it.
"I heard you come out here," she said quietly. "Paige said you got a weird call."
"Sarah."
Her expression hardened immediately. "What did she want?"
"To meet. To talk. To be involved." I scrubbed a hand over my face. "She says she's changed."
"Bullshit." The word came out sharp and immediate. "Nate, you can't seriously be considering?—"
