Chapter 29
The next morning, Maris was thankfully back in Brightmoor, leaving Paisley to tend Serena’s scraped palms. The fall had been a close call; a worse injury, and Stella would have paid. Paisley had already contacted her lawyer; the school was getting a formal notice on Monday.
Gently dabbing antiseptic on Serena’s hands, Paisley winced at each flinch. “Does it hurt, sweetie?” she asked softly.
Serena bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes. “A little,” she whispered, stubbornly holding them back.
Once bandaged, Paisley hugged Serena close, kissing her head. “We’re getting you a new preschool. Never going back there, okay?”
Running into Grayson at Serena’s school had been a shock. Paisley had carefully avoided any school near the Vanderbilts, yet fate intervened.
“It’s okay, Mommy,” Serena said quietly. “I like Sophia, my teacher. And I won’t bother Grayson anymore.”
Paisley stiffened. “You took that painting from my studio to show him, didn’t you?”
Serena nodded, her eyes brimming with remorse. “But Grayson didn’t like it. Stella tore it up. I’m sorry, Mommy.” She burrowed deeper into Paisley’s embrace.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m not mad,” Paisley murmured, stroking Serena’s hair. She remembered the day after her divorce, the overwhelming urge to call Dominick, the father of her son. The panic had subsided, and that day, she painted Grayson’s portrait, pouring her heartache onto the canvas. Serena had later discovered it and asked who the boy was. Paisley had simply said, “That’s your brother.” She hadn’t foreseen the impact of those words.
“Rena,” Paisley began gently, “Grayson doesn’t know you yet. Love has to go both ways. You can’t make everyone like you.”
Serena nodded, her face earnest. “I get it, Mommy.”
Paisley held her close, a bittersweet ache in her chest. She’d once believed unconditional love guaranteed reciprocation. Life had taught her otherwise. A phone's ringtone shattered her thoughts.
Before Paisley could react, Serena wriggled free and grabbed the phone. “Mom, who’s Gregory?” she asked, her three-year-old mind already absorbing a surprising number of names.
Paisley’s eyebrows shot up. It had been years since Gregory had been in her life.