“Are you going to see Dad today?”
My chest tightens. “Yeah, I am.”
“Is he going to try to take me away?”
The question is so direct and unexpected that I physically recoil before I can even begin to think of a reply. Thankfully—and as always—Grant is right by my side to help.
“No.” His voice is firm and definitive in a way that makes it sound like the case is already closed. “That’s not going to happen.”
April looks at him, then back at me. “Do you promise?”
I reach back and take her hand. “I promise I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you stay with me. That’s what today is about. Making sure we can keep being a family, just the two of us.”
“The three of us,” she corrects me, glancing at Grant.
My heart squeezes. “The three of us.”
April squeezes my hand. “You’re going to win, Mom. I know you are.”
“What makes you so sure?” I force a tight smile even though I’m struggling to keep it together through this conversation.
“Because you’re the best mom in the world. And because Grant is helping you. And because Dad is…” She pauses, choosing her words carefully. “Dad isn’t a good person. I know I’m not supposed to say that, but it’s true. He hurt you, and he was mean to you, and he doesn’t deserve to be around us.”
I’m shocked. I’ve tried so hard to shield her from the worst of what Steven did, to never speak badly about him in front of her, and to let her form her own opinions. But she’s obviously seen more than I’ve realized, and she understands more than I’ve given her credit for.
“Oh, sweetheart.” I unbuckle my seat belt and twist around so I can hug her properly. “You’re so smart. And so brave. I’m so proud of you.”
“I’m proud of you, too, Mom.” She hugs me tight. “You’re going to do great today. I know it.”
When we finally pull apart, Grant is watching us in the rearview mirror with a hint of a smile on his face.
“You should get to class,” I tell April, smoothing her hair back. “We don’t want you to be late.”
“Okay.” She grabs her backpack and opens the door, but before she climbs out, she leans forward and gives Grant a quick hug too. “Take care of my mom today, okay?”
“I will,” he promises. “Always.”
The courthouse looks more like a prison, and I have to remind myself that we’re here for a good reason and that we’re going to get the outcome we want. The one we need.
Probably.
Almost certainly.
“Hey.” Grant’s hand finds mine. “Don’t forget to breathe.”
“I’m breathing.”
“Slower. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”
I follow his instructions and force my lungs to cooperate. After a few breaths, the crushing doubts and fears recede enough to keep moving forward.
This is the way the past few weeks have been—one step forward, panic, two steps back. Then Grant will reassure me and the process will start all over again.
“I’ll just be so glad when this is all over,” I say after another big inhale and exhale. “When I don’t have to jump every time my phone rings and you can get through an entire practice without—oh, shit. You’re supposed to be at practice right now!”
“This is about a hundred times more important.”
“So you got out of practice to be here with me?” It’s not that I’m surprised, it’s just that I know how much his practice time and his routines mean to him. The fact that he has to keep giving up his time to support me hits me right in the heart.
