Page 95 of Faking with Three

She nods slowly, her expression thoughtful. “Mom says you can’t love more than one person like that.”

“Do you think she’s right?” I ask gently.

Jill bites her lip, thinking. “I don’t know. I think… maybe you can love people in different ways. Like, I love you and Mom, but it’s not the same. And I love Katie, even though she drives me crazy sometimes. It’s still love, right?”

Her insight stuns me. She’s twelve, but she speaks with a wisdom that feels far beyond her years. “Exactly,” I say, my voice soft. “Love doesn’t have to look the same for everyone. It’s not about fitting into a box or following rules. It’s about being honest, about caring for people the best way you know how.”

She nods, satisfied with my answer, but the conversation isn’t over. “Do you think Mom will ever understand that?”

I want to say yes. I want to believe that one day, her mother will stop seeing me as the enemy. But the truth is, I don’t know. “I hope so,” I say finally. “But sometimes, people hold on to their pain because it feels safer than letting it go.”

Her brow furrows, and she pokes at her ice cream. “I think that’s sad.”

“It is,” I agree. “But it’s not something we can change for her. She has to figure that out on her own.”

Jill looks up at me, her gaze steady. “Maybe you should talk to her. Like, really talk to her. Not yelling or anything. Just… tell her how you feel.”

I laugh lightly, though it’s tinged with disbelief. “You think that’ll work?”

She shrugs. “It’s better than not trying. You always tell me to try, even if something’s hard.”

I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. “You’re too smart for your own good, you know that?”

She grins. “I get it from you.”

She’s right. I know she’s talking about her mother, but the same truth holds for Charlie. As much as I despise what Charlie’s done—how she’s twisted things, made it harder for me to be a part of Jill’s life—I can’t keep avoiding the confrontation. If there’s any chance of fixing this mess, it starts with a conversation.

When the last of her ice cream is gone, I walk her back to the spot where she’s supposed to be “studying” with her friends. She gives me a quick hug before running off, her backpack bouncing as she goes. I watch until she disappears around the corner, my resolve solidifying. I need to talk to Charlie Green.

The park is peaceful, the kind of quiet that presses against you like a warm blanket. I sit on a wooden bench near the edge of the playground, watching kids climb over monkey bars and swing as high as they can. I remember bringing Jill down here on weekends, back when my marriage hadn’t imploded.

I never thought I could find that kind of happiness ever again. But with Olivia, I could dare hope.

When Charlie Green finally appears, she’s wearing a fitted blazer and sharp heels that don’t belong in a park. She spots me, her expression already skeptical, and walks over with measured steps. She keeps a good two feet of space between us as she stands in front of the bench.

“Marcus,” she says, her tone clipped. “Why are we here? If this is another attempt to ambush me?—”

“It’s not. I just want to talk to you,” I say.

“Why would I believe that?”

“Because I’m a psychiatrist,” I say with a small shrug. “And we tend to deal better with real dialogue than theatrics. If nothing else, consider this therapy. Free of charge.”

Charlie’s lips twitch, almost like she wants to smile, but she quickly shuts it down. After a long pause, she sits at the opposite end of the bench, her posture stiff and guarded.

“You’ve got five minutes,” she says. “Talk.”

I turn slightly to face her. “I wanted to hear your side of things. Not from gossip blogs or legal filings—from you. What is it that’s really bothering you about Jax being in Adam’s life?”

She scoffs, crossing her arms tightly. “You mean besides the fact that he was absent for years and now wants to swoop in like some kind of hero? Or that he’s part of this… circus you’re all running?”

I nod, staying calm. “Besides that.”

Her eyes narrow, like she’s expecting me to argue with her. When I don’t, she exhales sharply and looks away, her gaze settling on the playground. “He doesn’t know Adam. He’s never dealt with the day-to-day reality of raising a kid. And now that he wants to be a part of it, I’m supposed to just… trust him? Trust that he’ll stick around, that he won’t hurt Adam?”

“Charlie, Jax didn’t know Adam existed until recently,” I say softly. “You and Adam’s mother made sure of that. But now that he does know, he’s doing everything he can to step up. Isn’t that what matters?”

She flinches, just barely, but I catch it. “And what about the rest of you?” she shoots back, her tone sharp again. “This unconventional arrangement of yours—it’s not something Adam should be exposed to. He needs stability, not… whatever it is you’re doing.”

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