Page 91 of Faking with Three

Charlie clears her throat, her voice calm but cutting. “Your Honor, Jax has never been responsible. If he wants to prove otherwise, he needs to end this… arrangement. It’s not stable or appropriate for Adam. Visitation rights are a luxury for him. He doesn’t even know this child.”

“The child’s mother—plaintiff Charmaine Green has been deputed overseas for the past few years, is that correct?” Jax’s lawyer says.

“Yes,” Charlie replies hesitatingly.

“And last year she was given an opportunity to opt out of service and serve close to home but she renewed her lease on the base she’s on right now. Is that not true?” the lawyer continues.

Charlie’s face turns red. “What does my sister have to do with this?”

“You’re accusing my client of not being present in his son’s life when he wasn’t even aware of his existence till a few weeks ago,” the lawyer replies calmly.

The judge is observing the proceeding. He allows Jax’s lawyer to continue till the Greens lawyer intervenes.

I’m holding my breath, my arm intertwined around Marcus’s.

“Unfortunately, we cannot spend more time on this issue than we already have. I’ve made my decision on this matter. You can choose your son, or yourfriends.”

My throat feels tight, and I want to say something—anything—to break the silence, to defend Jax. But the judge’s earlier reprimand keeps my lips pressed shut.

Jax exhales slowly, his hands gripping the edge of the table in front of him. He doesn’t look at Charlie, doesn’t glance back at us.

“Your Honor, I?—”

The judge cuts him off, his tone stern. “Mr. Thompson, this court isn’t here to debate lifestyle choices. My concern is the welfare of the child and the environment in which he is being raised. The gossip surrounding this arrangement has already placed undue attention on the boy. You need to demonstrate stability if you are serious about having a meaningful role in his life.”

I glance at Charlie, expecting to see triumph in her expression, but she just looks uncomfortable, her gaze focused on her hands folded on the table. Charmaine, on the other hand, sits completely still, her face unreadable.

The judge continues, “If you choose to maintain your current lifestyle, visitation rights will be denied. However, if you wish to pursue custody or even consistent visitation, you must make a clear and public decision to separate yourself from this arrangement. The court cannot in good conscience expose a child to this level of instability.”

“How long would I need to... distance myself?”

The judge raises an eyebrow. “That would depend on the progress shown and the feedback from supervised visits, should you choose to pursue them. But let me be clear, Mr. Thompson: any connection to this arrangement would hinder your case. Permanently.”

Silence bears down on the court.

“What is he going to do?” Ethan says.

The judge leans forward in his chair. “Mr. Thompson, have you made your decision?”

Jax straightens in his seat, his hands clasping together tightly. For a moment, the silence stretches, unbearable in its weight. Then, finally, he speaks.

“I have, Your Honor,” he says, his voice steady but low. “I choose my son.”

The words land like a blow, even though I saw them coming. My chest tightens, and I have to focus on keeping my breathing even.

The judge nods, his expression neutral but perhaps a touch softer than before. “Very well. The court acknowledges Mr. Thompson’s decision. Visitation rights will be reinstated, pending confirmation that the terms outlined by the court are adhered to. Supervised visitation will begin immediately, and the court will reconvene in sixty days to review progress.”

The judge continues. “The pending defamation case against Ms. Green will remain open, but the court advises both partiesto resolve matters amicably outside of these proceedings if possible.”

Another strike of the gavel. “This case is adjourned.”

“He made the right choice,” Marcus says quietly, though there’s a bitter edge to his voice.

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I know.”

Jax finishes speaking with his lawyer and heads toward the exit. As he passes us, he finally stops, his gaze flicking to me. There’s something in his eyes—apology maybe—but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.

Before I can respond, he’s gone, disappearing through the doors and into the waiting crowd of reporters.

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