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She shrugged. “You’re not the father.”

“Of course I am!” Gage roared. “I have the paternity test to prove it.”

She let out another laugh. “I wanted it to be you, but it’s not, and you’ve made it clear tonight that it won’t ever be.”

“Why are you pulling this shit now?” His voice bellowed through the basement.

“Because you left me no choice! I wanted you to be the father, but I’ll be damned if I let you take my son from me.”

Gage clenched his teeth, but before he could unleash his anger, I entwined my fingers with his. Katherine had blindsided him with this, possibly to provoke him into doing something he’d regret.

He inhaled then let the breath out five seconds later. “We did a paternity test,” he reminded her, his tone calmer than she deserved.

She shrugged. “You share DNA with the father, so that test gave a false positive. But Conner’s not yours. It’s impossible, based on the date of conception.”

“WhoisConner’s father then?” The question echoed off the walls, but he already knew the answer, same as I.

“Ian.” She lowered her head, fingers thumbing the restraining order. “I slept with him a few weeks after you broke up with me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Or hell! Why didn’t you tell Ian? You fucked with Conner’s head for years.”

“Because I wanted you back!” she shouted. “If you’d known I’d gotten knocked up by your brother…? C’mon, Gage. We both know you would have never spoken to me again.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

“Ain’t that poetic justice.” She folded the papers and gripped them in both hands. “I have more in common with Liz that you ever knew. Your brother knocked us both up.” She headed for the stairs, and Gage worked his jaw, watching in a state of anger and shock and disbelief as she climbed to the top.

“I guess that makes you his problem then!”

The door slammed shut, leaving us in the wreckage of a plan that had backfired horribly. Gage pushed his hands through his hair, breathing hard, but when his eyes met mine, that was my undoing. I crossed to him, but he slid to the floor before I could touch him.

“He’s not my son.”

Falling to my knees in front of him, I wedged between his legs and grabbed his face. His eyes glassed over with tears, and one slipped free, hanging on his lashes before dripping down his cheek. I brushed it away, wishing I could wipe away the devastation I saw in the slump of his shoulders and the sheen of his eyes.

“He’s not my son,” he repeated as if saying it again would make it sink in. “But I love him like my own.”

“I know.” I had no words to take away his pain, so I wound my arms around him and held on. Getting through this seemed impossible just then, but we were stronger together, and I knew we’d find a way to overcome Katherine’s final curveball.

27. The Devil's Grace

Five and a half months later…

“I fucking hate you!” Holding Gage’s hand with enough force to crush bones, I screamed through another contraction. I was certain his fingertips had gone white, cut off from blood flow by my unnatural grip, but he didn’t seem to care. Using his free hand, he wiped the sweat from my brow.

“You’re almost there, baby.”

“I’m hurting you,” I groaned, squeezing tears from my eyes. They dripped down my flushed face. “Your fingers…”

“It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.” As if to get his point across, he rubbed a thumb over the back of my hand.

The horrid peak of the contraction subsided, and I collapsed against the pillows, trying to catch my breath. How was I supposed to push a baby out when I had no strength left? I hadn’t given birth in over six years. Funny how time had a way of erasing just how fucking insane women were for going through this again and again and again.

Fucking loons.

Forty seconds later, another contraction began the climb to agony, and I looked at Gage, tightening my jaw in panic.

“Oh no…another one…”