I pick up my wine glass again, running my thumb along the rim. “So what can I do?”
Miller leans back. “There are steps we can take. You could file for sole custody officially, get a court order in place. You could put legal protections in place that establish you as Hudson’s primary custodial parent, even if Boone decides he wants to be involved now.”
I swallow hard. “And if he fights it?”
Miller’s lips press together for a moment before she says, “Then it becomes a case. But, Lark, you have a damn good one. He’s never provided financial support, never been present, never even known his kid existed.No judge is going to look at that and suddenly hand him partial custody.”
I nod slowly, my fingers tightening around my glass.
“But,” Miller says, softer this time, “you need to ask yourself what you really want here. Are you trying to keep Hudson from Boone entirely? Or are you just scared of what happens if Boone decides he wants to be his dad?”
My chest tightens at that.
I swallow, staring into my wine like it holds some kind of answer. “I don’t know.” The words feel heavy, admitting that. “I never thought this far.”
Miller doesn’t say anything, just watches me, waiting.
“I mean, why would I?” I let out a humorless laugh. “He’s been gone fortwelveyears, Mills. That’s long enough to make you think someone’s never coming back.”
Miller lifts a shoulder, takes another sip of wine. “And yet, here he is.”
I shake my head. “So what now?”
“I think the best thing you can do is negotiate with Boone. Find a middle ground. Handle this without getting a lawyer involved.”
I blink at her. “Negotiate?”
“Yes.”
“What, so Boone all of a sudden gets him on weekends or something? Hell no.”
Miller shrugs. “I mean, that’s a good start.”
I scoff, setting my glass down harder than necessary. “Miller, I—” I pause, shaking my head. “I don’t think I can do that.”
She crosses her legs. “Then why are we even having this conversation?”
I press my lips together, because I know she’s right. I’m asking for solutions while shutting down the only ones that make sense.
But I can’t imagine it.
The house without Hudson. The quiet pressing in, the absence of his voice filling the space.
What would I even do with myself on the weekends? Wake up and drink coffee without him at the counter flipping through his baseball magazines?Cook dinner without him stealing bites straight from the pan? Watch TV without him stretched out on the couch, legs hanging off the side because he’s getting too damn tall?
What happens when I reach for his lunchbox in the mornings and remember I don’t need to pack one because he’s not here?
I shake the thought from my head. “It would feel like a piece of me is out in the world without me.” My voice cracks slightly, and I hate it.
Miller’s face softens. “I know.”
My throat burns, tears stinging my eyes. “I don’t think I can do that.”
Miller sets her glass down and reaches over, placing a steady hand on my knee. “But, Lark,” she says gently, “Hudson has a dad. A dad he should get to know.”
I tense.
Miller tilts her head. “Hasn’t he ever asked about Boone?”
