Page 106 of Wrong For You

“They’re probably almost—” My assumption cuts in half when I spot Morgan fleeing Bean Me Up.

“There goes my old mommy.” Syd’s whisper is swept away by a gust.

I hold steady to let my daughter decide our next move. She grabs my hand, looks both ways, and yanks me into action. My extended stride covers the ground, but I’m no match for her haste. There’s still a choice to be made when we reach the opposite curb. For a brief moment, I’m not certain what direction she’ll choose. But I should’ve learned by now not to doubt her authority.

Sydney tugs at the heavy door. “C’mon, Daddy!”

We storm into the coffee shop, leaving the past to eat our dust. My daughter doesn’t appear concerned about Morgan in the least. Her only worry revolves around the woman currently racked with sobs, hunched over a table across the room.

Upon hearing the chaotic whirlwind that accompanies our approach, Harper lifts her tear-streaked face. The sight of her swollen eyes guts me. I’m not alone in that sucker punch either.

Sydney gasps and rushes into her open arms. “Why’re you crying, Harpy?”

She nuzzles her wet cheek into my daughter’s shoulder. “I’m just… draining my pain and doubt.”

“Do you mean in a sink?” Syd’s features twist as she tries to comprehend the explanation. “Your nose and eyeballs are dripping. I guess you could be a faucet.”

Harper laughs, but the sound is a pitiful rasp. “You’re very clever, superstar. It’s just…” She draws in a shallow breath. “I can’t believe this is real.”

My tolerance for the guessing game snaps along with my clenched jaw. “What did she say to upset you?”

“Nothing—”

“Baloney,” I spit. “There’s no reason to protect her, Pitch.”

Harper wobbles to her feet. I reach out to grip her elbow for support. Shock slaps me when she rips herself from my grasp.

“Don’t speak ill of her.” She stabs a finger into my chest with a brute force that doesn’t belong in her arsenal while in such a mournful state. “Morgan isn’t our enemy.”

I recoil at her defensive actions. My mouth works silently, chewing on this unexpected turn. Confusion swirls even if I redact my personal bias from the record. “Countless empty promises and years of witnessing my daughter’s disappointment suggest otherwise.”

“Be that as it may, she isn’t a villain. She’s a mother, but never truly felt like one. Morgan is the bravest woman I’ve ever met.” Harper’s chin quivers and fresh tears pool in her eyes.

I’m stunned still again. “You’ve lost me.”

“Her selflessness is”—she flails a hand while searching for a proper term—“courageous and inspiring and wonderful.”

My pulse thumps faster as the ground seems to shift. “What the heck did I miss?”

“There’s something you need to see.” Harper lifts an envelope from the table. “She left this for you.”

I rip open the sealed tab without further instructions. My eyes scan over the fine print, not digesting much more than our names and personal information, until the bold purpose of the document finally registers. “What…?”

Harper is already nodding. “She granted full custody to you.”

“To us,” I correct.

Her lips tremble. “That’s another process entirely.”

I drift a palm down her arm to interlock our fingers. “Which we’ll begin when you’re ready.”

“Okay, but that’s not all.” Harper points at a single piece in the stack.

Behind the legal paperwork, there’s a letter. I read the words with the respect they deserve. Morgan outlines her decision, telling me to ask Harper if I need more details. “Why didn’t she tell me sooner?”

“That’s a question to ask yourself,” she murmurs.

“I never gave her a chance.” Which hurts more than I’d prefer to admit.

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