He clasps my hands between his two palms.
“You promised you’d keep your mouth shut,” Nate warns him before looking me in the eyes. “It’s perfectly natural to be nervous.”
Legend snorts at Nate repeating his words.
I roll my lips between my teeth to keep from smiling.
“Why do they want my baby so badly?” I whisper.
“I have no idea,” he answers, and that’s part of his truth. He’s not going to tell me that they’re just messing around or trying to exert their power over a situation. He’s not going to tell me that they’ll give up and we won’t have to worry.
And it scares me a little more that he doesn’t have the answer.
“We can’t sit in here all day. The meeting is scheduled to start in five minutes,” Legend says.
“He’s right,” Nate says, his face twisted like he hates admitting that Legend is making sense. “We’re going to be fine. I’m going to be there every second. Faith is going to be there.”
“I’m going to be there,” Legend chimes.
“You’ll be in the waiting room. That’s as far as you go,” Nate snaps.
I’m helped out of the back of the SUV, and Nate places his hand at my back, guiding me but somehow still keeping his body between mine and anything that can harm me. It’s a skill I’ve come to appreciate from the man.
We’re greeted by someone at the front desk when we enter.
“Faith will be right out. Have a seat—oh there she is.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Fosse. Good to see you again.”
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to hearing someone refer to me as Mrs. Fosse.
“If you’ll follow—”
“Ethan Packwood,” Legend says with a wink as he shoves Nate a little to the left so he can step up and present his hand to Faith. “You can call me Legend. Ask me why.”
Did he just wink at her a second time?
“I’m going to call the police if you continue to harass me, Mr. Packwood.” She pulls her attention from Legend and looks back at us. “The other party is already here. Do you have any questions before we join them?”
I shake my head, looking up at Nate.
“No decisions are made today, right?” he asks.
“None,” she answers. “Think of this as an opening dialogue.”
Nate nods, his fingers flexing on my back, and we follow Faith into a conference room.
All eyes snap in our direction. There’s a man sitting at the head of the table, another man sitting beside whom I have to assume are Cory’s parents, and there on the far end is Cory himself. I’m so shocked to see him in the room, my feet skip, and I nearly stumble.
“You okay?” Nate asks, his mouth low to my ear.
I nod because it’s all I can manage with the entire row of people looking at me like I’m complete trash.
Faith steps to the side introducing the man at the head of the table as former district judge, John Wellson, and the man who is tasked with mediating. The Clarks’ attorney is introduced who then introduces Cory’s parents—Serena and Henry—before she motions with her hand and says Cory’s name.
Nate pulls out my chair for me, taking care to make sure I’m comfortable when I know he wants nothing more than to jump across the table and strangle the man that hurt me in the past before moving on to the couple who’s causing so much pain right now.
“We’re going to start by listening to what the petitioners’ expectations are before the respondents speak. We’re going to keep this civil. Does everyone understand?” Mr. Wellson says.
We all nod.
“Mr. Clark, please begin.”
Henry clears his throat before leaning forward, a clear power play on his part. It’s an intimidation tactic. Charles used it all the time, invading our personal space all the time to get his point across. “We think that—”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Henry Clark. I need to hear from Cory,” the former judge says, his eyebrows cocking up as if this just got a little more interesting for him.
“Me?” Cory asks, pointing to his chest. Has he always been so aloof? Why in the world did I ever find him attractive?
“You,” the mediator clarifies.
Cory looks confused, his eyes darting to his parents, seeking help.
Nate huffs as he sits back further in his chair, relaxation flowing from his large body. I want to inch closer to him. He’s so handsome in the suit he wore when we said our vows before the magistrate. I just hate that the sight of him in it is now going to be tainted with the memories from today.
“Cory?” the mediator prompts. “If the child is determined to be yours, what do you want the custody agreement to look like?”
He shakes his head as if rejecting the idea. His parents glare at him, the threats clear on their faces.
“April is living in sin,” he says, his eyes finding mine across the table.