Page 125 of The Keeper

I also knew that the latest headlines would give the Andersons fresh ammunition, and I was right. When I arrived at my mediation session with them that Friday, the first thing Oswald did was toss a copy of one of the tabloids on the table.

“This is what I mean when I say Evie is better off with us. This would’ve never happened if she were in our custody!” He jabbed his finger at the photo of a teary-eyed Evie on the ground while I confronted the photographer, my face contorted into a snarl. Oswald glared at me. “Are you really blind to the danger you’re putting her in?”

I gritted my teeth. They’re trying to get in your head. Don’t let them. Carina’s advice stopped me from acting on instinct. I took a deep breath and silently counted to three before answering. “It was a set-up. They should’ve never been there. The press knows Evie is off-limits, and they issued retractions right before this meeting. They’ve promised not to publish any more photos or videos of her, now or in the future, for as long as she’s a minor.”

My publicist had sprung into action when I called her after dinner on Wednesday night. She couldn’t get to the tabloids in time to stop the pictures from being published, but she had tracked down the culprit behind the ambush—Jack, the asshole from Unfiltered Tea. It was the same channel that had harassed Carina at her interview. I’d told my publicist to stop that video of Carina confronting Jack from being released in any capacity, using any means necessary. Somehow, she’d gotten it done, but whatever methods she’d used had earned Jack’s ire.

It didn’t take much digging to discover he was the one who’d found out about my restaurant reservation and called the paps on us. The photographers were his friends and worked for some of the seediest tabloids in the business; they were the only ones who would’ve condoned harassing a minor. They’d only pulled the pictures and issued retractions after we threatened them with a mountain of lawsuits.

My publicist had also assured me that the responsible paps had gotten sacked, which should’ve made me feel better. It didn’t.

I sat there, my jaw clenched, as Oswald continued his attack. He didn’t care about the truth behind the headlines; he only cared about getting his way. Trying to argue with him was useless.

“The retractions don’t matter,” he said. He loomed over me, his mustache bristling while Elizabeth watched and Rhonda tried, unsuccessfully, to get the situation under control. His next words landed with ominous finality. “The damage has already been done.”

We didn’t finish the session. After its ignominious start and Oswald’s refusal to heed Rhonda’s warnings, she officially ended the meeting, deeming us unsuitable for further mediation. Our next step was to take the issue to court.

I accepted it without complaint. I’d guessed all along this was where we’d end up, and I was right. Another day, another battlefront. I was used to it by now. I’d already told Harry, and we were gearing up for war. It wasn’t what we wanted, but we weren’t going down without a fight.

“You look like you could use a comfort snack.” My mom found me in the living room that night, sitting on the couch and staring at the ceiling. She carried a glass of milk and a plate of chocolate chip cookies in her hand.

“I’m not six anymore, Mom,” I said, but I took the milk and cookies anyway when she handed them to me.

The combo had been my comfort snack of choice when I was young. Missed a goal? Cookies and milk. Fell off my bike? Cookies and milk. Broken arm after I fell out of the old oak tree in our backyard? Cookies and milk.

I gave it up when I became serious about playing football, but one taste brought back the familiar warmth of sitting in my childhood kitchen, where every problem could be solved with the right food and a hug from Mom.

“No, but you’re still my son. You’ll always be six in my eyes.” She sat next to me now, her eyes sympathetic. “You should join Carina and Evie for a movie later. It’ll take your mind off things.”

Carina had moved back into the house, and she and Evie were currently watching The Princess Diaries in the screening room. I’d declined to join them. I’d needed some quiet time to process what’d happened and to hash out next steps with Harry. I’d just ended our call when my mom showed up.

“Not tonight,” I said. I stared at the cookies, the sweet taste souring in my mouth. “She hates the chocolate chips in these. Always picks them out before she’ll eat one.”

“I know.” My mom smoothed a hand over my hair. “She’s fine, you know. Kids are resilient, and her bruises are nothing compared to the scrapes you used to get into. Remember the oak tree? My God, sometimes I wondered how you made it to adulthood intact.”

I snorted despite myself. “It’s not the injuries. It’s those vultures they call paparazzi. Seeing her pictures in the tabloids, how overwhelmed she’d been…What if what happened messes her up mentally or emotionally? What if—” I broke off, unable to continue.

“That’s not on you,” my mom said firmly. “That’s on those vultures, as you call them. Despicable people, really, but you didn’t do anything wrong by taking your daughter out to dinner. I understand why you’re worried, but when I said Evie is resilient, I didn’t mean just physically. She was shaken, yes, but she’s already bounced back. And I hate to say it, but she’ll face much harder challenges when she grows up. It’s a natural part of life. As a parent, all you can do is prepare her the best you can, let her find her own way, and provide a safe place for her to land if she needs it.”

I swallowed. I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed to hear that, or how much I’d missed my mom’s advice. We talked on the phone all the time, but it wasn’t the same as having her here in person. Even though she had to return to Michigan in a few days, her presence had been a great comfort.

“Okay, enough about that,” she said, changing topics. “How did your call with Harry go?”

I told her, briefly outlining our strategy for fighting the Andersons in court. When I finished, her brow wrinkled. She appeared lost in thought for a moment before she asked, “Have you talked to them outside of mediation?”

“A little, after our first session. That didn’t go well either.”

“No, honey. I mean really talk to them.” My mom gestured at my phone. “Why are they doing this? I get that they didn’t know about Evie before, but I’m a grandparent, and while I adore that little girl to pieces, I can’t imagine spending so much money and energy to fight for custody at my age. Especially when she’s not being abused or neglected. Raising a child is hard work, and while the Andersons might have the money to hire help, I’m guessing they’re not doing all of this just so they can foist her off on someone else. There’s something else going on.”

“What’s going on is they’re entitled assholes who care more about their pride than Evie,” I said, aware I was sulking but too upset to care.

“Noah.” My mother gave me a stern look. “I’m just saying, it might be more productive if you had an open and honest conversation about what’s really going on here.”

“I’ve been trying to have an open and honest conversation for weeks. They wouldn’t know what that meant if it came and bit them on the ass. There’s a reason Sarah cut them off. If she didn’t think they were suitable to be around Evie, why should I?”

“I’m sure she had her reasons, but that was over a decade ago,” my mom said gently. “People are capable of change, especially if they’ve gone through something as traumatic as losing a child.”

I twisted my head to stare at her in disbelief. “Are you defending them?”