My lips parted, and I felt my face go white.

“Lucy doesn’t care what Rachel is,” Trent said, his voice barely above a whisper. “That’s the world I want her to grow up into, and by God, Ellasbeth, if I find out you said anything to make Lucy or Ray question Rachel’s worth, I will never let you see either of them again.”

“Then . . .” Ellasbeth’s voice went wobbly. “I thought . . . you were very clear on your stance at the zoo.”

“Ah, Ellasbeth?” Landon said, as if not liking the hope in her voice any more than I did.

“You were trying to take her by force, demanding I sell Lucy to you for a birthright that was already mine. Stop pushing me into a corner, Ellasbeth. Stop trying to control the situation. You are not in charge. I am.”

A cold feeling started in my middle. I knew who Trent was, what he was morally capable of doing, seen it firsthand and tried to pretend it wasn’t there. Don’t call his bluff, Ellasbeth. Don’t. But . . . if Trent and Ellasbeth found a way to make this work . . . Damn it, that was why she was here, I thought, seeing everything Trent and I had found ending far too soon.

“I just want to see my child,” Ellasbeth pleaded.

Jenks snorted, his dust shifting to an irate orange. “What a little squirrel sack.”

“I find that hard to believe when you show up with Landon,” Trent said, and I waved Jenks off the doorknob.

Jenks flew up, startled. “They aren’t done yet!” he protested, and I tugged the door so it would squeak. “Rache, you need to work on this spying thing. Your timing sucks fairy dust.”

“I need to get in there before he does something dumb, like open up joint-custody talks again,” I said, and the pixy snickered. From inside came a shuffling of motion. I knew my face was red, and I took a slow breath as I paced through the back living room, trying to get the ugly look off my face before I went into the kitchen.

But it was obvious I’d heard something. Ellasbeth’s cheeks were a bright red against her straw-blond hair. She sat stiffly at Ivy’s big farm table, her hands clenched on a trendy purse, knees tight together, and a cream-colored skirt showing a respectable amount of leg. Her coat was still on, and it matched her heels. If I had to describe her in a few words, it would be professional, smart, classic beauty, and probably in that order. Devious, backstabbing, and self-serving would also be on the list.

On the surface, she was a perfect match for Trent’s perfection—except he didn’t love her. It hadn’t mattered before, but after having gotten a taste of freedom, he was resisting going back. I felt a flash of pride that I’d been a part of that. But now . . . I wasn’t sure.