“I know I’m Finley’s mother. What am I to you?”

Shit.

“You’re Fin’s mom. That’s it, Claire.” I gentled the words as much as possible, but she flinched.

“You used to love me,” she argued.

“Yeah, I did. But I don’t anymore. I care for you deeply, and I always will. But there’s no chance for us. If you’re staying in Cape Hatteras, you have to accept that.” Each word was clear in the hopes that my meaning was, too.

“But…” She shook her head. “This is what you wanted!” Her legs slid off the couch, and she leaned toward me. “You told me you’d wait for me! That I could come home and we’d be a family again!”

“You left five years ago!” I cringed, then got a grip on my temper and my tone. “Finley was two the last time I told you that. I held onto the hope that you’d come home for years, Claire. But eventually, I let you go.”

“I never let you go!”

My eyes flew wide, and I stood. “We can’t do this. Not today. Not with Fin right upstairs.”

“Jax, please!” She got up and came toward me. “I gave it all up for you, for us! So we could be the family you wanted. Are you seriously telling me that you don’t want Finley to have her mom and dad under the same roof? Happy? In love again?”

That’s exactly what I’d wanted. What I’d prayed for. But not anymore.

“You’re too late,” I said simply and backed away from her. There was zero chance I was getting into any position with Claire that I’d have to defend to Morgan. None. “What Finley needs are a mom and dad who are happy and love her. Loving each other isn’t an option anymore.”

“You really mean that?” Her face crumpled, and a single tear slid down her left cheek. My jaw ticked. That was the side she cried out of for every play I’d ever seen her in.

“Yeah. I do, and I’m sorry if it hurts you, but you need to know the truth.”

Her tears dried as she studied my face. “You’ll change your mind.”

“I won’t. Now, if you’d like to discuss a schedule to see Fin so she knows when she’ll see you, then let’s do that. But this topic is closed.”

She took a steadying breath. “Okay. Why don’t we just split time? One week at my house, one week at yours?”

I blanched. “Out of the question.”

“I’m her mother!”

“Claire, I can’t even trust you to show up to Mother’s Day tea on time, and you think I’m going to give you every other week with her?” I turned and walked into the kitchen, knowing she’d follow me, which she did.