Page 21 of Nolan

The drive home is a blur of traffic lights and shortcuts. When I pull into the driveway, I spot Lisa immediately, perched on my porch swing like she belongs there, like she didn't forfeit any right to my life and home the day she walked out.

I'm out of the truck and up the walkway in seconds. Lisa stands, arms crossed, looking exactly as I remember but somehow less. Less vibrant. Less important.

The door opens before I reach it, and there's Annabelle, concern etched into her features. Something in me softens at the sight of her.

"Where's Ashlynn?" I ask, keeping my voice low.

"In the backyard. We're doing crafts." She steps aside, making room for me to enter.

"Good." I nod, grateful for her quick thinking. "Keep her there, please."

Our eyes meet briefly, and for a moment, I let myself remember how it felt to kiss her, warm, right, inevitable. Then I turn to Lisa, steeling myself for the conversation ahead.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I demand, not bothering to hide my anger.

Lisa's gaze shifts from me to Annabelle, who's backing away, giving us space.

"I'll go check on Ashlynn," Annabelle says softly, and I appreciate her discretion, even as part of me wishes she would stay.

Once she's gone, Lisa's expression hardens. "So this is why you won't answer my calls? You've got yourself a little girlfriend playing house with my daughter?"

Her words ignite a fury in me that I've kept banked for three years. "What does it matter, Lisa?" I snap, my voice rising. "The two of us haven't been together in years, and I'm free to live my goddamn life, since you threw me and your daughter away."

"I didn't 'throw her away,'" Lisa hisses, stepping closer. "I was twenty-two, Nolan. I wasn't ready to be a mother."

"And I was twenty-three. You think I was ready to be a single father?" I run a hand through my hair, exasperated. "But I stepped up. I did what needed to be done."

She scoffs, looking past me into the house. "With help, apparently. Your nanny seems quite... invested."

"Don't." I step between her and the doorway. "Don't talk about her. She's been more of a mother to Ashlynn than you ever were."

"For now." Lisa's smile is cold, her face pale by the burn I just dropped on her. "But we both know nannies come and go. I'm her real mother."

"No." I shake my head, disbelief mixing with anger. "You signed away your rights. Legally, you're nothing to her."

"About that." She reaches into her purse, pulling out a folded document. "I've been talking to a lawyer. There are provisions for reinstating parental rights, especially when the child's welfare is at stake."

"At stake?" I snatch the paper from her, scanning it quickly. "What the fuck are you talking about? Ashlynn is healthy, happy, and well-adjusted."

"Being raised by a single father who works sixty hours a week and a nanny he's clearly sleeping with? That's your definition of 'well-adjusted'?" Her tone is condescending, dripping with fake concern.

"I'm not sleeping with Annabelle," I growl, though the admission costs me something. "And even if I was, it would be none of your business."

"It becomes my business when it affects my daughter."

"She's not your daughter." I step closer, lowering my voice. "You abandoned her. You don't get to waltz back in here and pretend to care about her welfare."

Lisa's expression shifts, softens into something that might pass for regret if I didn't know better. "I made a mistake, Nolan. I was young and scared and overwhelmed."

"And now?" I fold my arms, unmoved by her sudden display of emotion. "What's changed?"

"I've changed." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture I once found endearing. Now it just seems calculated. "I'm stable now. I have a good job, a nice place. I'm ready to be a mother."

"Three years too late."

"It's never too late to make things right." She reaches out, touches my arm. I jerk away as if her touch burns me. "We could start with visits. Just an hour or two, supervised if that makes you feel better."

"No." The word is final, brooking no argument. "Ashlynn doesn't know you, Lisa. You're a stranger to her."

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