Chapter 13 - Paige Finally Has To Speak Without An Audience
Paige asked for mediation.
Not legal mediation.
Family mediation with a licensed therapist.
I almost refused.
Then I agreed under three conditions.
No Molly.
No Nathan.
No demand for reconciliation.
Just Paige, me, and the therapist.
She arrived looking exhausted.
For once, she did not dress like she was entering a competition.
The first twenty minutes were useless.
“I was young.”
“You were twenty-nine.”
“I was lonely.”
“So was I.”
“Grant pursued me too.”
“I know.”
“You act like I destroyed everything alone.”
“I never said that.”
She stopped.
Because that defense had been prepared for an accusation I had not made.
I looked directly at her.
“Grant betrayed me as my husband. You betrayed me as my sister. I don’t need one betrayal to cancel the other.”
Paige started crying.
Then she finally said the sentence I had waited three years to hear.
“I wanted something you had.”
“Grant?”
“At first, no.”
That surprised me.
“What?”
“Your life.”
The therapist stayed silent.
Paige continued.
“You were always first.”
Marriage.
Home.
Career.
Baby.
Mom bragging about me.
Dad trusting me.
Paige felt like my shadow.
None of that justified what she did.
But finally it explained the engine beneath it.
“When Grant complained about you,” she said, “it felt good.”
I swallowed.
“Why?”
“Because someone who had you still wanted me.”
There it was.
Ugly.
Human.
Believable.
“And then you started pushing us apart.”
She looked down.
“Yes.”
“Did you want him permanently?”
“I thought I did.”
“But after the divorce?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
Of course.
The affair had never really been about building a life with Grant.
It was about defeating mine.
Then I asked the only question that still mattered to me.
“Why Molly?”
Paige began crying harder.
“I wanted to hurt you.”
My face went cold.
“She is nine.”
“I know.”
“You knew exactly what that sentence would do to her.”
“Yes.”
No excuse.
No alcohol.
No confusion.
May you like
Just yes.
Strangely, that was the first moment I believed Paige understood why I might never let her close again.
