Page 47 of One and Only

“Cameron and I went on a walk today,” she said. “I told him the whole story. He’s always been a good listener. Cameron and Adaline and I were so close in age when Tim married our mom, less than eighteen months between all three of us.” From the counter, she picked up a small fidget toy that Olive used at school, small metal loops in a rainbow pattern. Greer kept it in her hand, mindlessly pushing at the loops while she spoke. “And he’s really good at hearing the stuff people don’t say. What’s underneath their words.”

“What did he hear underneath yours?” I asked.

“He asked if I needed help calling everything off.” Her gaze was unflinching. “That he’d deal with any fallout with our family if I just needed to … go.”

I released a breath through my nose, trying to picture the big strapping builder walking through the woods with my fake fiancée, a concerned brother who immediately knew something was off. He was probably spending that entire walk imagining a circular saw on my balls.

I didn’t ask Greer what she said because despite how little I knew her, I trusted her.

With this massive, important thing, I trusted her.

So I didn’t do her the disservice of asking her. And when her lips, soft and pink, edged up in a tiny smile, I knew she understood what I was doing.

“He also asked me one other thing,” she said absently. “If I’d found someone who was willing to do this for a paycheck, who had no other motivation outside of financial gain, would I have backed out by now?”

My chest clenched.

“He asked me if I was still staying in this because of you.” I couldn’t read anything in her eyes. It was the first time since I’d met her that her face was completely unreadable. “Because of what you want to do for your daughter.”

An invisible vise locked in tight around my ribs, squeezing and squeezing until I fought to take a full breath.

This time, I couldn’t stay quiet. “What did you say?”

The question sounded raw and ragged when it came out, a voice that didn’t quite sound like my own.

Instead of answering, she nudged her chin up and flipped another question back at me.

“Why is it so important for you?” she asked. “I know you love her. I know that you want more time with her, but most men would not go this far to have primary custody of their daughter when they have a good relationship with their ex.”

Before I sat down, I glanced at Olive one more time. She was still absorbed in her coloring. Greer turned, making room for me to sit on the seat next to hers.

Her legs had widened to accommodate mine, and when I set my forearm on the counter, my fingers brushed the edge of her elbow. Naturally, we’d turned in toward each other, creating a small space where she could ask me to be honest about why we were doing this. And she’d earned that.

“Your dad asked me about my parents the other night,” I started. “And I told you they’d passed away.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry they’re gone.”

My eyes dropped to where she still held the fidget. Her fingers rolled it around and rolled it around in an unthinking motion that didn’t create a sound.

“My parents were older when they had me. My mom was forty-two. My dad forty-five. They’d long given up hope that they’d ever have kids, so they’d created the life they wanted by that point. Quiet. Simple. Easy. I learned to be the same because they couldn’t really handle anything upsetting the life they’d built.” I eased my hand toward her, sliding the fidget out from her grasp and into my own. “The only place I experienced a family, the kind you’re used to, was on the football field. It was easy to make that into my life. They were tired by the time I finished high school. Exhausted by the time I graduated from college. My dad’s health made it so they never came to games, but I don’t think they would have even if he was fine.”

“Did they ever see you play in the pros?” she asked.

I shook my head. “I always offered. Tickets to a suite and a wheelchair for my dad, but it was just too much for them.”

Oh, we’ll just watch on TV. You know we can’t be bothered with all that fuss.

You can give a kid everything they need—food and shelter and clothes, drive them to practices and sign them up for clubs—and you still have every chance not to show them that they’re your world. You can go through the motions, do all the things you’re supposed to, and no one would ever be able to convince me that their little brains can’t tell the difference between that and a parent who’d light the world on fire to take care of them.

I would burn everything down for Olive. And I had to believe she could feel that.

“Josie is a good mom. Agreatmom,” I told her. “But this year might well be the only chance I ever have at uninterrupted time with my daughter. I can’t let that opportunity pass without fighting for it, no matter what I have to do.”

Greer’s attention never wavered, and I could see the way she tucked every word of my answer somewhere important. I wanted to know where she kept it. Where she locked it away. What question it answered in her mind. This answer, the biggest piece of who I was,matteredto her.

And that, in turn, mattered to me.

I let out a quiet sigh, my gaze locked onto hers. Something warm buzzed in the air between us, the slightest energy that I couldn’t quite name.

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