Page 95 of No Greater Love
The color drained from his face. "That's... that's legal?"
"Technically, maybe. Ethical? Hell no. But if no one reports it..." I felt rage building in my chest, white-hot and consuming. "She's been planning this, Nate. The timing, the lawyer consultations, everything. This isn't about wanting a relationship with Paige. This is about destroying you."
Nate slumped against the car like all the air had been knocked out of him. "So what do I do? I can't afford the expensive ones. The affordable ones aren't available or conflicted out. The hearing is in six days."
The words hung in the air between us, heavy with implications: a single father, representing himself against a woman with money and a high-powered attorney.
"I don't know anything about family law," he said. "I'll lose. She'll take Paige."
"Maybe. Or maybe the judge will see what she's doing. The consultation thing, the timing, the way she's been manipulating everything." Even as I said it, I didn't believe it. Judges dealt with facts and legal arguments, not righteous indignation.
Nate straightened up, and I recognized the expression that crossed his face. Military bearing, kicking in when everything else failed. The same look he'd had when he'd defended me from that racist patient.
"Okay," he said quietly. "I'll do it myself."
"Nate—"
"No, it's okay. I'll figure it out. I'll research family law, I'll prepare arguments, I'll..." His voice cracked slightly. "I'll do whatever it takes."
I wanted to tell him it would be okay, that love and dedication would triumph over money and manipulation. But standing there in that parking lot, looking at this good man who was about to walk into a legal slaughter, I couldn't find the words.
Sarah had played this perfectly. She'd taken away our options, our time, and our hope, all while maintaining the facade of being the reasonable one.
And the worst part was, it was probably going to work.
thirty-four
nate
"Daddy,can you sing the bird song?"
Paige was already tucked into her bed, her stuffed axolotl under one arm, but she was looking up at me with those eyes that could make me do absolutely anything. The "bird song" had been our bedtime ritual since she was maybe three years old, though I hadn't done it in months.
"I figured you were getting too old for lullabies," I said gently, smoothing her hair back from her forehead.
"No. And it's not a lullaby, it's about not worrying." She paused, studying my face with that uncomfortable perceptiveness eleven-year-olds sometimes had. "You look worried, Dad."
She was right. I was worried. Terrified, actually. In five days, I was going to walk into a courtroom and try to convince a judge that I deserved to keep the daughter I'd raised alone for eleven years. Against a woman with money and lawyers and a story that would sound reasonable to someone who didn't know the truth.
"Okay, kiddo," I said, settling on the edge of her bed. "But just this once."
I started to sing softly.Three Little Birds, Bob Marley's words carrying the same comfort they had for years.
By the second verse, Paige's eyes were getting heavy. By the time I reached the final line, she was breathing deep and even, her face peaceful in the glow of her nightlight.
I kissed her forehead and whispered what I'd been whispering every night for eleven years: "Sweet dreams, baby girl. Daddy loves you."
In the hallway, I found Tasha leaning against the wall, tears streaming down her face.
"'Three Little Birds,'" she said softly. "Bob Marley."
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
"How long have you been singing that to her?"
"Since she was little. She used to have nightmares, and it was the only thing that would calm her down." I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. "She probably doesn't even need it anymore, but..."
"But you do," Tasha finished gently.
