His eyes harden. “Watch your tone, Kate.”
My heart jumps, traitorously, at the familiar reprimand. It’s the same tone he used whenever I dared to question him. The same tone that taught me how to shrink. The same tone I swore I’d never allow to have power over me again.
I swallow down the instinct to apologize. “Why are you here?”
He exhales like I’m being dramatic. “My lawyer instructed me to stay involved prior to the hearing. Appear interested. Be present.”
Appear interested. Not be a father, just look like one.
“So all it took was a lawyer to suggest that you be involved? You’re unbelievable,” I whisper.
He shrugs. “You’re blowing this out of proportion. I might have needed time to adjust to the thought of being a father, but I’m ready now. This doesn’t have to be difficult.”
“You’re ready now? It took you five years to be ready?” I blink at him, baffled. “And yes, this is difficult. You filed for custody,Daniel. You want to take her away half the time. And you expect me to be…what? Calm?”
He rolls his eyes. “Plenty of parents share custody.”
“She doesn’t know you.” My voice cracks against my will. “She doesn’t know your voice or your laugh or your wife. She doesn’t know anything about you because you chose that.”
He stares at me, and something cruel curls at the edge of his mouth. “She’ll know Elizabeth and I soon enough.”
My breath stutters. “You didn’t want her,” I say quietly. “You told me to handle it. You said you weren’t ready. So I handled it.”
He laughs—a short, humorless sound that makes the rage under my skin burn hotter. “How noble.”
I stare at him, stunned. “What is wrong with you?”
“I’m simply trying to see my daughter,” he snaps, motioning toward the house. “So again—she’s not here?”
“No.”
“And when will she be back?”
“I don’t know.” It’s a lie, and I hate how easily it comes, but instinct kicks in. Protect Evie first. Figure out the rest later.
His gaze sweeps over me, over the house, over the stack of mail, the mismatched shoes by the mat—like he’s taking inventory of every flaw.
“You look tired,” he comments. “Overworked.”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I said I’m fine.”
He smirks, victory glinting in his eyes. “You always were stubborn.”
“And you were always condescending,” I mutter, though my voice trembles just enough for him to notice.
He watches me with a calmness that feels dangerous. “The court may agree with me,” he says. “About all of this.”
Ice threads through my veins. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“That you’re overwhelmed. You’re balancing too much.” He gestures around us. “It shows.”
Shame hits me hard—even though I know better. Even though I’ve kept this house running, kept Evie happy and thriving, kept every piece of our life stitched together with my bare hands. But Daniel always knew how to say the one thing that would cut deepest.
“You have no right to judge me,” I whisper.
