Who's Your Daddy? Read Online Free PDF Page B

Isaac asked.
    “ Yes .” I took a step toward the stairs but stopped. “You don’t mind? If we—”
    “Don.” He shot me a pointed look. “I’ve had half the day to let this sink in. There’s no reason you can’t take a little time too.”
    “Okay. Thanks.” I came around the kitchen island and kissed him gently. “We’ll figure this out. With her. One way or another.”
    “I know,” he whispered. I couldn’t tell which of us sounded less certain, and as we held each other’s gazes, the palpable worry in his eyes probably resembled the fear and concern in my own. He undoubtedly hoped for an “everything will work out” answer from me, just as much as I hoped for one from him.
    Not tonight, I’m afraid.
    “Go on upstairs,” he said softly, nodding in the direction I’d been headed a moment ago. “It’s not like anyone has to have the magic fix-it-all plan right this second.”
    I forced a smile. “Thank God for that.” Then I kissed him once more, and headed upstairs.
    In the shower, I closed my eyes and stood under the water. I needed to process this. I needed to try to process it. I needed to make some sort of futile, flailing attempt to maybe process it.
    As if my head could take much more today. On top of the bomb Isaac had just dropped, my shift wasn’t as boring as I’d let on. Yeah, we’d spent a fair amount of time with the Xbox today, but there’d been a hell of a wreck on the freeway this morning. Someone driving too fast, someone not paying attention, and the next thing everyone knew, four cars were in pieces across three lanes.
    I shuddered. At least the parents of the teenage driver had gone straight to the hospital instead of coming to the scene. No one should have to see their child in what was left of a car. She’d be all right, but the accident wasn’t pretty. Scenes like that always gave me chills when kids were involved. Even with all my training, I’d have panicked if I ever saw that much blood, broken glass and twisted metal around my own kid.
    My kid. My one kid.
    And now, another? Biologically, maybe or maybe not. But any child of Isaac’s was a child of mine, and…
    I scrubbed my hands over my face. I’d been a parent for sixteen years, and the idea of starting again from the very beginning was…daunting.
    What about Isaac and me? If he was the father, would he resent me for being less obligated to stay involved? If I was the father, would he feel left out? I knew he wanted children of his own, even if he hadn’t mentioned it in the last year or so, and if I ended up fathering a second after I’d been less than enthusiastic about the two of us adopting, I couldn’t fault him for being bitter.
    This would affect our relationship. How and to what degree? Impossible to say.
    And Carmen. My God, Carmen did not need this. My chest ached with worry for her. Her divorce had been bad enough. That piece of shit she was trying to divorce kept finding ways to draw out the proceedings as long as possible, damn near bankrupting her in the process, and she’d only just started getting her life back in some semblance of order.
    Then there were her parents. During the year-long divorce battle, they didn’t go a week without making sure Carmen knew just how much upheaval she was causing in the family.
    I shook my head, then leaned back and let the water hit my face for a moment before I stepped back and ran a hand through my soaked hair.
    Her parents always were more concerned with themselves and keeping up appearances. It was just as well they’d never met my father. If they were ever in the same room, the three of them would probably combine and create some sort of mega parent. The Voltron of shitty parents.
    The thought persuaded a quiet, half-hearted laugh from my lips, but it didn’t last long. I could only imagine how Carmen was dealing with this. How her parents would take it. How my dad would take it. I shuddered.
    Hell, I didn’t even know if Carmen wanted to keep