Written with Regret (The Regret Duet #1)(41)

I drained over half the mimosa in one long sip. “Did your friend Beth help you prep for a home visit?”

“No. My attorney Beth helped with that.” She rolled the stem of her glass between her fingers. “We knew you weren’t going to be happy with me showing back up, so I wanted to be prepared for whatever you could throw at me.”

I shook my head and sighed. “I don’t want to throw anything at you. I just want to protect my daughter.”

“I get that.”

I rested both of my forearms on the counter and leaned toward her. “I don’t think you do, so I’m going to be blunt here. I don’t trust you, Hadley. I don’t trust your motives. I don’t trust your ability to care for a child. And, most of all, I don’t trust that you’re going to stick around long enough to justify telling Rosalee that you’re her mother.”

Her mouth fell open and hurt flitted across her features.

I hated it but I didn’t let it slow me. “But…that doesn’t change that fact that you are her mother. Biologically speaking anyway. So I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m going to have to learn to accept this. But you are going to have to work with me.”

The hurt faded away as her mouth stretched so big that it was a wonder it didn’t split her face. “Done. Whatever it takes. I’m game.”

“For the next year, you and I can get to know each other. You can prove to me that not only can you handle having a child in your life, but that you actually plan to stick around long term. Then…maybe we can introduce you to Rosalee.”

She did a slow blink. “I’m sorry—did you say a year before introducing me to Rosalee?”

I had. And I’d also known there was no way in hell she was going to agree to it. But nobody started a negotiation with their best offer. She’d counter with something absurd like two weeks, I’d counter at nine months, and we’d keep going back and forth until we landed on six months. And only then would I concede.

“You’re a stranger to me. It’s going to take more than just a few days before I trust you with my daughter.”

“Oh, really?” she drawled. “So her preschool teacher had to wait a year to meet her too?”

“You’re hardly a preschool teacher, Hadley.”

“You’re right. Because I’m her mother.”

“A mother who abandoned her,” I shot back. “So that makes you a stranger to us. One year. I get to know you first before she even enters the picture. That’s my deal. Take it or leave it.”

“Uhh…I’m going to leave it. Because it’s a crap deal and you know it.”

I shrugged. “What did you expect? That you’d just waltz back in and have her calling you mommy by the end of the week? That’s not the way this is going to work.”

“I’m not asking her to call me mommy at all. Introduce me as Hadley. Your friend, your maid, the gardener, the babysitter, the—” Her eyes flared wide as she exclaimed, “Oh my God, let me teach her art!”

I already had my mouth open, ready to shut her down, when she rushed around the counter and grabbed my arm, tugging at it as if dragging me off the stool would somehow make me agree.

“I could teach her about painting and drawing at first, then graduate up to photography as she got older. Come on, Caven. It’s perfect. I’d get to spend time with her, teaching her all the things I love. And you could be there too. You could see me in action and how I interact with her. You’ll feel comfortable. She’ll feel comfortable. And I’ll get to spend time with her.”

No was poised on the tip of my tongue.

But she had a point.

In my house, Rosalee would always be safe.

I’d be there if anything happened.

And I’d be there if nothing happened—i.e. Hadley decided to hit the road again and left my girl hanging.

“And this is your long-term solution? You just become her art teacher? We all live happily ever after?”

She stopped bouncing and tugging on my arm and glared at me. “No. This is my solution to your ridiculous one-year-wait deal. I may not be a preschool teacher, but I’m damn qualified to teach her art.”

The gears in my head began to spin in every which direction. Hadley had agreed not to do anything with the courts…yet. But I wasn’t going to be able to hold her off forever. According to Doug, there was nothing I could do to keep her from walking in with her DNA test and having her name added to Rosalee’s birth certificate. And when she did, my options became even smaller, a nasty custody battle being my only way out.

That wasn’t exactly ideal, but I’d go to all-out war for my daughter…

Unless I didn’t have to.

“I want it in writing,” I announced, rising to my feet. “Legal and binding. Six months. Supervised visitation only. Supervised by me. In my home. Two days a week. One hour—”

She gave my arm another shake, her fingernails starting to bite into the feathers on my tattoo. “Two hours. I need two hours.”

“Two hours and you’ll agree to everything else?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Absolutely. I promise.”

The day I’d seen her talking to Rosalee at the party, I’d been terrified. That hadn’t changed over the last week, but for the first time in the last seven days, I felt like I was finally in control.