The morning light spilled through the kitchen windows. The clock ticked above the stove—the same clock that had been there since her grandmother’s time. The house settled around us, old bones creaking.
I lifted her hand to my mouth and kissed her knuckles.
Sixteen years of Saturday mornings.
And finally, I was exactly where I belonged.
CHAPTER 17
Grace
Diana Lawson’soffice was nothing like I expected.
I’d imagined something cold. Corporate. The kind of place where people came to divide their lives into assets and liabilities. But the room was warm, filled with afternoon light, bookshelves lined with family photos alongside legal texts. A fidget toy sat on her desk, well-worn from use.
“Riley told me a bit about your situation,” Diana said, settling into the chair across from me. She was younger than I’d expected—early forties, maybe—with sharp eyes and a calm presence that made me feel less like I was about to navigate a minefield. “She said you might need help with a custody situation.”
“I’m not sure what I need,” I admitted. “That’s part of the problem.”
Diana nodded. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?”
So I did.
Marcus. Eleven years together. The engagement that never quite made it to a wedding date. His distance over the last year, the way he’d started treating the B&B like an inconveniencerather than my life’s work. Emma, who showed up that weekend. The breakup in Gran’s garden.
And then the pregnancy test. Two lines that changed everything.
“He blocked my number,” I said. “Changed his email. I tried to reach him for weeks after I found out. Nothing. He proposed to Emma weeks after he left me.”
Diana’s pen moved in quick, efficient strokes. “And when did he come back?”
“Two months ago. After his engagement to Emma fell apart.” I pressed my hand against my belly, feeling the baby shift. “He showed up at the B&B saying he wanted to be involved. That he wanted to try again. But I don’t think it was ever about the baby. Or me. I think he just didn’t want to start over with someone new.”
“You were the path of least resistance.”
“Something like that.”
Diana set down her pen and studied me for a moment.
“Here’s what you need to understand, Grace. As the biological father, Marcus has rights. Colorado law is clear on that. You can’t make him disappear, no matter how much you might want to.”
My stomach dropped. I’d known this, on some level. But hearing it out loud made it real.
“However,” Diana continued, “having rights and exercising them are two different things. If Marcus wants to be part of this child’s life, he’ll have to demonstrate that. Courts look at patterns of behavior, not promises. And right now, his pattern is absence.”
She pulled a legal pad toward her and started sketching out a timeline.
“You have documentation of his blocked number? The changed email?”
“I have screenshots. Emails that bounced back.”
“Good. What about his involvement since he returned?”
I thought about it. The logistics conversations. The business trips. The way he talked about the baby like a project to be managed.
“He’s been staying at the B&B on and off. But he’s gone more than he’s here. And when he is here…” I trailed off, unsure how to articulate it.
“He’s present but not engaged?”
