With just a few signatures—and a shit ton of money, Tiffany would be out of our lives.
Fuck, I wanted Fiona here. I wanted to know what she thought about all this. I wanted her advice, her opinion. I just wanted her. But after the first dozen calls and texts had gone unanswered, I’d gotten the fucking point.
Fiona didn’t want to be here.
“As we went over on the phone, this is a one-time offer,” Houston said with that austere professionalism only attorneys were capable of. “The settlement amount is listed here,” he tapped on the bold-typed figure on the first page. “And covers what was mutually agreed upon as twelve months of child-support. Nine for your pregnancy, and three for the minor’s first three months of life.”
The minor was Skye Miller. Tiffany hadn’t given Skye my last name, which was one of the first things I’d remedy once this was over. My daughter sure as hell wasn’t going to carry the name of a mother who had never wanted her and only used her for financial gain. Fuck that noise.
“Where is she now?” Tiffany asked through her perfectly lined lips. “Skye?”
My first instinct was to mouth off and tell her Skye’s location was none of her fucking business, but I wasn’t about to blow this deal by letting my temper get the best of me.
“In a friend’s office down the hall,” I answered. “Why? Would you like to say goodbye to her?” Skye was in Langley’s office with Mia, Evie, Maxim, and half the Reaper team standing guard.
Evie had saved my ass during the game last night, and there was only God to thank for the coincidence that we’d been playing at home this week. I couldn’t have gotten on a plane with all this shit going on. But what really floored me? Fiona had been the one to call Evie and ask for help. She might be pissed as hell at me, but she still managed to show up for Skye.
Tiffany tilted her head as if giving the idea some thought. “Would you let me?”
Would you charge me for the privilege?
“Yes,” I ground out.
“Really?” She tapped her pen against her chin.
“Really.” I shifted in my chair and did my best not to glare at the mother of my daughter.
“Why?”
I sighed and raked my fingers through my hair in agitation. “Because one day Skye will ask about this moment, Tiffany. She’ll ask about her mother. She’ll want to know why you walked away and why I let you. She’ll probably think she did something wrong, something to deserve the hot fucking mess her first seven months were, and why she wasn’t enough to get you to stick around.”
Tiffany paled.
“And it’s my job to make sure she knows that this,” I gestured to the paperwork, “had nothing to do with her and everything to do with you and your choices. I will have to look her in the eye and tell her that I offered you every reasonable arrangement and the chance to stay in her life, and you chose money.” I hated that word and everything it represented. “And I’ll have to do it in a way that doesn’t make you out to be a total monster just to make her feel better about where she comes from. But you bet your ass the one thing I’ll never do is lie to my daughter, Tiffany. So yes, if you want to say goodbye to her, then you absolutely can, because I’ll never be the one who cut her off from you. You’re choosing to do that all on your own and that’s on you.”
We’d gone back and forth for days with the attorneys, hammering out an offer Tiffany would accept. The urge to be viciously petty had been overruled by wanting to do what was best for Skye, so we’d offered visitation—supervised of course, and full contact, but that had been the only thing Tiffany hadn’t wanted. Apparently, she’d had her fill of motherhood during those three months, and wanted what she called a clean slate—enough money to start a new life, and zero legal obligation or connection to Skye.
The relief I felt that she’d never be in a position to abandon Skye again was secondary only to the pain of my heart fracturing for my daughter at her own mother’s callous disregard.
“Is that what you want?” I asked, leaning forward on my forearms. The suit felt too constraining, the tie, too tight, the air too stuffy to truly breathe. “To say goodbye to her?”
Tiffany swallowed and looked away, then shook her head.
Pure loathing flowed through my veins for the woman sitting across from me. I was supposed to be happy, right? Fuck her. She didn’t deserve another second of Skye’s time. But I was all too aware that I’d told Tiffany the truth. One day I’d have to answer to Skye about what went down in this room—her mother’s disinterest and my blatant pay-off disguised as a one-time payment of a million dollars in child support.
“I need to know why.” I bit out every single word.
“Why I won’t say goodbye?” Tiffany clarified as she flipped to the second page of the contract.
“Why you left her on the porch that day.” It was the one subject she had shied away from, probably due to the criminal neglect of it all.
Tiffany looked up slowly, then set the papers on the table. “To get your attention. Obviously, it worked.”
I shook my head. “She had a car seat. Clothes. She wasn’t malnourished. You took care of her for three months and then…” I fumbled for words. “I need to know why.”
Her lips pursed. “And you won’t tell her?”
“I already told you that I won’t lie to her.”
She clicked her tongue, then sighed. “Fine. I wasn’t sure you were her father, to be honest. I’d done the math and knew that was a possibility, but that weekend was…” She shrugged. “Anyway, when she was about six weeks old, she scowled at me, and damn if she didn’t look just like you.” She narrowed her eyes. “And don’t you dare judge me for not knowing who her father was.”
I put my hands up. “Zero judgment here since I didn’t know who her mother was.” Everything I judged her for came after conception.
“Right. The whole motherhood thing never clicked with me. I mean, she was fun to dress up, but she cried incessantly, and I just never felt it—that whole connection you’re supposed to have with your kid. She was just…there. I knew what happened to models who were mommy-tracked.” She gestured down her body. “This is not a catalogue body. This is a runway body, and when I was offered a show in Italy, I took a gamble that you were her father, and decided it was my turn to get my dream job and your turn to have your life turned upside down.”
“She’s mine,” I declared just in case she needed to hear it. “We did a paternity test and everything. Just so we’re clear.”
“I figured, or we wouldn’t be sitting here.”
“And why show up now?”
“It was convenient timing. I happened to be in Charleston, and I happen to be leaving tonight.” Another fucking shrug. How could I have ever found this woman attractive? Her cold, calculated features were nothing compared to the warmth of Fiona’s smile, or the way her face softened when she held Skye.
My heartbeat stuttered, but I forced myself to focus.
“Plus, I’d gotten a call from my great-aunt that she’d been notified there was a new member of the family thanks to some genealogy test, but don’t worry, my parents are dead and no one else is going to come looking for Skye. Now are there any other touchy, feely questions, or can we get this over with?”