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"Yes, you. Is there anyone else on this line?"
"Hang onto your panties. I just want to make sure you know there's a hard limit to my involvement."
"A hard limit?" Not content with watching the child from a distance, I decide to head closer.Only to make sure she’s comfortable, and so I can see her face properly, to ensure she doesn’t need anything.
"Not going to babysit the kid. Don’t have anything against them, but no way, am I going to take on the responsibility of someone else dependent on me so completely," Connor warns.
I sit down on the bed next to the carrier, taking in her relaxed features. Her forehead is smooth. She’s sleeping deeply. Some of the tension slides off of my shoulders. I release the breath I wasn't aware I was holding. Who’d have thought getting a kid to fall asleep would be this stressful?
I rise to my feet and head into the living room again. "I’m going to have to hire a babysitter," I confess. Just not yet.The thought of having anyone else watch over her makes my stomach shrink.Watching Priscilla with her made me realize how good she was with kids.I push that thought away. I’m going to have to find someone who's half as good.
"Never thought I’d hear that word come out of your mouth," Connor marvels.
I rub at my temple. "You’re giving me a headache with your constant prattling."
He scoffs. "Likely, it’s the thought of dealing with the load of crap that got thrown your way that’s causing it."
"Don’t call the kid a load of crap." I scowl.
There’s silence, then Connor murmurs, "I meant, the paperwork you’ll have to deal with, no matter which way this goes."
"Right." I hunch my shoulders. It’s not like me to jump to conclusions. I must be more stressed than I realize. "The entire situation sucks balls," I confess.
"It does," he agrees. "Any idea who’d do this to you?"
I roll my shoulders. "Don’t have a clue. The kid’s a year old. So, she would have been conceived twenty-one months, ago.”
“Any flashes of memory? Any woman who stands out who you’d have been with then? Any encounters where you weren’t sure about the condom?”
I squeeze the bridge of my nose. “I always carry my own. And I always, always wrapped it up.”
“I’m not saying you didn’t.” Connor’s voice softens.
I blow out a breath. My brother’s only trying to help. “I wasn’t discerning in who I decided to date or have a one-night stand with at that time, but I remember every woman I slept with. And I was always careful to carry my own condoms. I never had sex without protection.
“You were in your fuck ‘em and leave ‘em phase,” he adds.
I open my mouth to argue, then shut it again. He’s not wrong. I did go too far then. But it was the only way I knew how to survive—adrift between the structure of the Marines and the corporate straitjacket of being CEO in the Davenport Group. I see it clearly now: I should’ve channeled all that restless energy into something else. Hitting the gym more often would’ve been better than what I chose.
“Is there any reason you'd be targeted this way, you think?” I hear Connor moving around. “Why would someone drop a child off onyourdoorstep specifically? Any demands from the mother?”
“None, just a note.” I recite out the contents from memory, the words burned into my brain.
Connor whistles. “She seems to be confident it’s yours.”
“Yeah.” I need something to drink. Hard liquor, preferably, so I can forget about this mess for a while. I head over to the wet bar.
Balancing the phone in the crook between my neck and shoulder, I reach over the bar counter for the bottle of whiskey, then pause. A baby. There’s a baby in the house. A tiny life I’m responsible for. Guess I shouldn’t be drinking. I set the bottle down.
“You sure you can’t think of anyone who could possibly be behind this,” he asks again.
“It’s a little hard to narrow it down when I was sleeping with so many women around the time the kid would have been conceived.”
He blows out a breath. "The perils of being a man-ho, huh?"
"Pot meet kettle," I snap.
"Big difference. I haven’t been saddled with a fruit of my loins yet," he points out.