Chapter 8

I thought about how the interview had gone, and it didn't seem like my chances were great. My mood sank a little lower.

When I got home, I froze at what I saw.

Natasha was sitting on our couch, holding Wendy's hand, wiping tears from her eyes, and talking in a low voice.

She heard the door open and saw me walk in, then jumped to her feet with a big, warm smile.

"Sarah! You're back!" she said brightly. "I kept calling you, but you never picked up, so I just came over!"

Wendy's eyes were red and puffy. She had clearly been crying right along with Natasha. That was just how she was. Her heart was too soft, and a few kind words from anyone could break her down.

Wendy stood up and said, "Sarah, Natasha's here! Come sit with her for a bit. I'll go start dinner. Emily should be home soon!"

I set my purse down. I didn't want to be here for this, but I put on a polite face anyway.

"Mrs. Harris," I said with a thin smile. "What brings you by?"

Natasha reached for my hand, but I pulled away.

She awkwardly withdrew and forced a smile. "You left without a word, and Emily hasn't been back in so long. I just wanted to come check on her."

I gave her a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "You're really here to see Emily?"

She showed up empty-handed to visit her granddaughter. Unbelievable.

Natasha's smile faded, and she looked ready to snap, but then she seemed to think of her son lying in that hospital bed. She swallowed her anger.

"Sarah, we all saw the photo you sent David. It was a misunderstanding," she said, her tone shifting to something almost rehearsed.

"David is a family man. He would never go behind your back like that. I asked him about it. That pregnant woman is the wife of one of his friends.

"He ran into her by chance, and she was so far along that he was afraid she might fall, so he helped steady her. That's all it was."

"Whether that woman is David's mistress or not, you and David both know the truth," I said flatly. "We're divorced now, so it's none of my business anymore."

Natasha slid closer to me on the couch. I stood up and moved to the armchair.

"Sarah, no matter what happened, David is still Emily's father," she pressed. "You were together for years. How can you be this cold? How can you just turn your back on everything?

"David is lying in a hospital bed right now. He can't move, he can barely talk, and he needs help with everything. He needs someone to take care of him. How can you just walk away from that?"

I shot to my feet, my voice sharp. "Mrs. Harris, are you serious right now? Yes, he's Emily's father. So what? Emily is a child. Are you suggesting she go take care of him?"

Natasha jabbed a finger toward my face and snapped, "Is that what I said? You're his ex-wife. Why can't you go take care of him?"

"Show me the law that says an ex-wife is obligated to take care of her ex-husband," I fired back. "You're his own mother. Why can't you take care of him yourself? And if you can't handle it, hire a nurse. That's what they're there for."

Natasha was shaking with rage.

She snapped, "If I could move him myself, do you think I'd be here asking you? Don't say we never gave you a chance.

"Look at yourself. You're past your prime, and no man is going to want you. And don't even think about getting child support from David!"

I shot back, "Whether anyone wants me is none of your business. You'd better worry about your own mess first."

Natasha jumped to her feet, stormed to the door, and walked out.

The door slammed shut behind her.