“No. Yes. I don’t know.” He scratched his head, which left a few pieces sticking up in the back. His eyes were still dazed, and he was sitting in a way I had never seen him sit before, sort of slouched over, defeated. He looked like he’d been hit by a bus.
“I’ll get you some water,” I said, heading for the kitchen. The baby was finally quiet in my arms, as if distracted by the show. I found a glass in a cupboard, threw a few ice cubes in it, and filled it from the water dispenser in the freezer door.
Part of me simply couldn’t believe it. Nate didn’t seem like the kind of guy this could happen to—he was too clever, too together, too lucky. Another part of me wondered if, when you had as much casual sex as Nate did, your luck was bound to run out at some point.
I looked down at the baby in my arms. Her expression seemed to mirror Nate’s—a mix of befuddlement, anger, and fear. I searched for a resemblance and thought I found one in the shape of her big gray-blue eyes. Holy shit, maybe she really was his daughter.
Back in the living room, I handed him the water and watched as he downed the entire glass without taking a breath. Then he lowered it to his lap and stared at the baby, blinking repeatedly as if he thought maybe he’d imagined the whole thing and she simply wouldn’t be there when he opened his eyes.
“Are you okay?” I perched at the other end of the couch, but as soon as I sat still the baby started to fuss, so I stood up again and started twisting at the waist from side to side—one of my old nanny tricks for calming a fussy baby.
“I’m fine,” Nate said, but it came out as more of a whisper. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m fine.”
“Okay. But you should stay seated. Sometimes after you faint, you—”
His brow furrowed. “I didn’t faint. I tripped, that’s all. On that thing.” He gestured toward the car seat.
Again, I bit my tongue. “So what did the letter say?”
But Nate didn’t answer. Instead he stared straight ahead, murmuring something that sounded like this can’t be happening to me. When it was obvious he wasn’t going to tell me anything, I went over to where the note had slipped from his hand when he’d “tripped” and scooped it up off the floor, which wasn’t easy while holding a baby in my arms. Planting my feet wide, I had to do sort of a grande plié, keeping my back upright and blindly reaching for it with my free hand. I made a mental note to thank Maren for dragging me with her to ballet class all those years.
I read the letter a few times, and found my heart beating faster each time through. “Holy shit, Nate. You’ve got a daughter.”
He finally looked at me. “I changed my mind. I’m not fine. I’m dying.”
“You’re not dying.”
“I am. My life is flashing before my eyes.”
“You’re not dying.” I glanced at the letter once more. “You’re just…a dad.”
He groaned and clutched his stomach. “Don’t say that word.”
“Fine, I won’t. But I think it might be true.” I put the letter on a table near the door, right next to Nate’s keys. “Who’s Rachel?”
Nate sighed, his eyes closing a moment. “She’s a woman I met at a tax law seminar last year.”
“Met?”
Nate pressed his lips together. “Slept with.”
“At a tax law seminar?”
“The seminar was boring. She had a hotel room.”
I nodded, ignoring the quick dart of jealousy, the same one I sometimes felt when I saw women leaving his apartment in the morning. It made even less sense right now. “And was that”—I did some quick math—“roughly eleven months ago?”
He nodded slowly without meeting my eyes.
“And you weren’t careful?”
“Of course I was careful,” he scoffed. “I’m always careful.”
“Right. Well, you’ll forgive my confusion as I seem to be holding evidence to the contrary in my arms.”
At that Nate jumped off the couch and began to pace back and forth in front of the window, grabbing onto fistfuls of his hair with both hands. “No. This can’t be. I protected myself.”
“Everyone gets carried away sometimes, Nate.”
“Maybe you do, but I don’t. Never. Not once. I’m always in control. Always.” He stopped pacing and looked at me, his eyes bloodshot and glassy, his hair a disaster. The muscles in his neck flexed as he swallowed hard. “I wore a condom every time. I know I did, because I always do. It’s a rule.”
“No form of birth control is one hundred percent effective.”
He opened his mouth like he was going to argue, but then closed it.
“Unless you think she’s lying…” I challenged.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Did she seem like the kind of person who’d make this up? I mean, she’s a lawyer too, right? She’d know paternity could be legally proven or disproven with a test.”
He exhaled, his shoulders slumping. “I know. You’re right. It’s… She’s…” He braved a glance at the baby in my arms. “She’s more than likely mine. I just…can’t believe this is happening.”
I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. A lot of guys like Nate—especially lawyers—would probably be screaming get me a paternity test right the fuck now! He didn’t need someone to scold him or shame him or be judgmental—he needed a friend. He needed a voice of reason. He needed confidence.
And frankly, I needed to see a man step up and be a man. It couldn’t all be a fantasy.
“What am I going to do?” he moaned, dropping onto the couch again, holding his head in his hands.
“You’re going to take care of her until her mother comes back,” I said firmly, taking a seat next to him.
“When’s that going to be?”
“I’m not sure, she didn’t say. But I can’t imagine more than a day or so.”
“I know I’m an asshole for this, but I don’t want a baby, Emme. Not even for a day or so, even if she is mine.”
I kept trying. “What you want doesn’t really matter. She’s here.”
Nate looked at his daughter. “I am the least qualified person in the universe to parent a child.”
“What makes you so unqualified? You’ve got money. A good job. A place to live.”
“That’s economics, not parenting. I’ve never wanted kids. I know nothing about taking care of them, especially a girl. And a baby? Forget it.” He stood up suddenly, fisted his hands at his sides, and stared down at me. “You have to take her.”
I shook my head and stood up too. “No way, Nate. I’m not taking her. She’s your daughter.”
“God, this is such a nightmare.” Nate yanked on his hair and started pacing again. “What the fuck was Rachel thinking? Why didn’t she tell me? I could’ve…could’ve…”
“Could’ve what?” I asked. “What would you have told her to do?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
“Maybe she was scared of your reaction. Maybe she didn’t want to tell you because she thought you wouldn’t handle it well.”
“I’d have handled it fine!” he yelled. “Because I’d have been prepared for this insanity, and not fucking blindsided!”
“Okay, okay.” Paisley had started to fuss again. “Lower your voice. Look, let’s focus on moving forward. Do you have contact information for Rachel? A cell phone number, or an email address?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Do you know what firm she works for?”
“No.”
“She was staying at a hotel, so is she from out of state?”
“I don’t think so. She might be from Kalamazoo. Or Battle Creek? Somewhere in the middle.”
“How about a last name?” I was sort of kidding, so I was stunned when he shook his head again. “Jesus, Nate.” I switched Paisley to my other arm and forgot not to be judgy. “You might think I date assholes, and maybe I do, but I at least know their last names and how to find them.”