Chapter 7: The Conversation She Started
Tara was already awake when I came downstairs the next morning.
She was sitting at the kitchen table with her phone face-down in front of her and a cup of coffee she hadn't touched.
She was dressed.
Hair done.
The kind of ready that meant she'd been up for a while.
I poured coffee and sat down across from her.
She said, "You filed the adoption paperwork."
"Yes."
"Without telling me."
"You filed a welfare review without telling me.
You hired an attorney without telling me.
You spoke to Kayla's mother without telling me." I set my cup down.
"I'd say we're even."
Her expression didn't change, but something behind it shifted.
"My attorney called this morning."
"I expected he would."
"He says you have your own representation."
"I do."
"Patricia Osei." A pause.
"You moved fast."
"So did you."
Tara wrapped both hands around her coffee cup.
"This doesn't have to become a legal fight, Marcus."
"You made it one."
"I made it one because you wouldn't have this conversation any other way." Her voice was controlled, but there was something underneath it now — not quite anger, something more like pressure.
"I have been trying to talk to you about Lily for over a year.
About what this means for us.
About whether we both actually want this.
And every time I tried, you shut it down."
"I didn't shut it down.
I disagreed with you."
"You refused to hear me." She looked up.
"I don't want to be a mother, Marcus.
I never did.
You knew that when we got married.
And then you brought a child into this house and expected me to become one anyway."
The kitchen was very quiet.
"I never asked you to be her mother," I said.
"I asked you to be kind to her."
"Kindness isn't enough when a child needs a real family.
When she needs stability and permanence and two people who are actually—" She stopped.
"Two people who are actually what?"
She looked at her coffee.
"On the same page."
"We were never on the same page about this," I said.
"But there was a version of this where you could have been honest with me a year ago instead of going behind my back to disrupt a child's placement."
"I went to the agency because you weren't listening."
"You went to the agency because you thought if you could get her removed before I filed, I'd have no legal standing to stop it." I paused.
"That's not a marriage problem, Tara.
That's a choice."
She was quiet for a long moment.
Then: "What do you want to happen now?"
"I want the review dismissed.
I want your attorney to withdraw the welfare concerns.
And I want you to stop using Lily as leverage in whatever this is between us."
"And if I don't?"
"Then Patricia will." I stood up.
"The caseworker who was assigned to Lily's review — Donna Reyes — has nineteen years of experience.
She can tell the difference between a genuine welfare concern and a legal strategy.
She already has."
Something moved across Tara's face.
Quick.
Gone.
"She contacted you," Tara said.
"She did."
A long silence.
Tara picked up her coffee cup and set it back down without drinking.
"I'm not a monster, Marcus."
"I know you're not." I picked up my keys.
"But what you've been doing to that child is monstrous.
And I think somewhere underneath all of this, you know that too."
I left before she could answer.
When I got to my car, I sat for a moment.
Through the kitchen window I could see Tara still at the table, both hands around her cup, not moving.
My phone buzzed.
Patricia.
"Her attorney called mine twenty minutes ago," she said.
"He wants to discuss withdrawing the welfare review in exchange for you agreeing not to pursue the separation on fault grounds."
"She wants a clean exit."
"She wants the fastest exit with the least damage to her reputation." A pause.
"The question is whether you're willing to give her that."
I watched Tara through the window.
She hadn't moved.
"What does Lily get out of it?" I asked.
"The review disappears.
The adoption proceeds without opposition.
She stays."
May you like
"Then yes," I said.
"Tell him yes."
