I set my purse on the counter and then walk over to him, placing my hand on his shoulder. “What’s going on?”
He tilts his head my way. I see just how horrible he looks—bloodshot eyes with dark circles underneath them—and it freaks me out. My easygoing employee looks like he’s been through hell.
“Shawn, what happened?” I ask, my voice laced with concern.
“I went through the calendar some more and matched the dates with when I was hooking up with Lauryn.”
My heart, which I thought was going to jump out of my chest earlier, now feels like it just stopped beating.
When I don’t say anything, he lets out an audible sigh. “Yeah, my thoughts exactly.”
“Do you honestly think Oliver is your son?” I ask barely above a whisper.
He nods his head vehemently, and that’s when I smell the alcohol on his breath.
“Are you drunk?”
He lifts a bottle of Jameson from between his legs. “Bottoms up!”
I lean back and take a breath, not sure how I feel about this situation. On one hand, I walked in on my employee when he shouldn’t have been here, and to make it worse, he’s drunk. Yet at the same time, I feel sorry for him, and I guess I’m thankful that he felt this was a safe place for him to come and work through his problems.
I pull out a stool and sit next to him. “Tell me about the time frame.”
I grab the bottle from him since he’s had enough. Thankfully, he doesn’t fight me.
He crosses his arms over the counter and lays his head down. “We met at the lodge at Camelback Mountain. It was the afternoon, and everyone got lit at the bar. She and I got to talking and never made it out to the slopes for the second ski run of the day. Instead, we went back to my hotel, where they had this awesome—”
“Martini-shaped hot tub. You mentioned it.”
“She thought it was hysterical, and it’s probably the only reason she went home with me. I was pissed when she said she was going back to the city to see her boyfriend. You know me—I do not get involved with girls in a relationship. Shit always goes south. I remember the boyfriend was a lawyer. Funny how you forget details until the moment you need them, and they suddenly come flooding back.”
“I’m guessing your fling was around thirty-six weeks ago now.”
He nods, and I close my eyes, wishing this weren’t happening.
“What are you going to do about it?”
“Nothing,” he mumbles.
I wrap my fingers around his elbow and give him a tug, so he sits up and faces me. “You can’t do nothing.”
He grits his teeth and stares up at the ceiling. “I know. That’s why I’m here. Drunk. I came here because I wanted to blame this place. If I didn’t work here, I’d have had no clue this baby was even born.”
“But you do know. So, now, you have to face it.”
He snaps his face toward me. “I will not be a father to this kid.”
I blink, shocked at his demeanor and praying it’s more the alcohol talking rather than the real Shawn because this is definitely a side of him I’ve never seen.
“If it’s yours, then you won’t have a choice.”
I jump back when he slams his fist on the counter. “I’m not ready to be a parent. I don’t want this.”
All I can think about is the difference between Shawn and Sebastian. Here’s Shawn, acting like a fool over the thought of Oliver possibly being his, while Sebastian has embraced it with so much love and excitement that I don’t know if he’ll ever recover if he finds out the baby is not his.
My phone rings, and when I see Sebastian’s face, my stomach drops.
“Don’t you dare say anything.” Shawn sits up, pointing at me.
I glare at him and swipe the call. I can understand the shock of maybe being a father, but his reaction is really starting to tick me off.
“Hello?” I answer, trying to act normal.
“Hey. I was going to grab lunch. Want me to bring you something too?” he asks.
I smile at how sweet this man is, especially compared to the guy sitting next to me right now.
I take in a breath and know I need to rip off the Band-Aid, or this will eat away at all of us. But it needs to come from Shawn.
“Sure, I’m at the shop. I’d love it if you could bring me something here.”
Shawn grabs my arm with his eyes wide open, but I push him off of me. He needs to pull up his big-guy boxers—if there is such a thing—and face the music.
“Perfect. I’m actually right around the corner from you already. I’ll be right there.”
We say our good-byes, and Shawn grabs the bottle from me, takes a swig, and then drops his head to the counter again. Right now, I don’t care what he does as long as it doesn’t include running out that door.
The silence is deafening as we wait for Sebastian to arrive.
For twenty-four hours, I’ve contemplated talking to Sebastian. I’ve been a coward because it’s too hard a conversation to have, especially without Shawn being one hundred percent certain that the timeline matches. Now that I know it does, that there’s a real possibility that another man could be the father, I can’t see how we don’t have the conversation, no matter how difficult it will be.
“Are you going to tell him, or am I?” I ask after a few minutes.
“You,” he grumbles.
I let out a breath, feeling uncomfortable about having to be the one. “I think it’d be better, coming from you.”
“Yeah, well, I’d rather ignore the situation altogether, but somehow, my life is fucked up enough to have Karma bite me right in the ass. I knew I should have stopped playing the field. The game eventually catches up to you.”
“You need to man up, Shawn.”
“I thought I was. I finally got a full-time gig at my dream job, decent cash in my pocket, and I was gonna get an apartment.”
I want to smile at his dream job comment, but I know that’s not what I should be focusing on right now. “You’re not losing your job, if that’s what you’re worried about. Mistakes happen. It’s how you deal with them in the end that matters.”
I run my hands through my hair and go over the thousand possible ways that I can break the news to Sebastian, and they all make me coil in a pool of nerves. My body starts to shake, and my hands turn clammy when I hear the back door open and watch as Sebastian walks through.
Shawn groans with his head still down while I say a silent prayer to myself, hoping this goes smoothly.
“Hey, beautiful,” Sebastian says as he leans in to give me a kiss. For a man who has been going nonstop on little sleep, he looks immaculate in his blue V-neck T-shirt and khaki shorts.
He stops short when he notices Shawn still leaning over, basically laying on the table. “Everything okay?” He points to Shawn and then looks back at me.
I inhale a deep breath and then go for it. “You might want to have a seat.”
Sebastian eyes the two of us while he pulls up a stool and moves the food he brought to the side, sensing this is not a casual conversation to have over a meal.
“I-I …” I stutter with a swallow. “I don’t know how to say this.”
He sits up tall, bracing himself. “Are you breaking up with me?” His eyes narrow in confusion.
“Oh God. No.” I grab his hands and give them a squeeze. “I’m so sorry to give you that impression. I love you very much.” I pause as he smiles in relief while I rub my lips together. “I’m telling you this because I care about you.”
His smile drops slightly, and his chest rises. “Does this have anything to do with Shawn being drunk and half-passed out in your kitchen?” he asks slowly.
I glance to Shawn, who’s still lying here with his head down. I close my eyes and turn back to Sebastian. When I open them, I see the man I love, and I don’t know if I can crush his soul like this. Maybe it is better if we just don’t say anything. It’s obvious who wants this child and who doesn’t.
“
Amy, you’re freaking me out here. What’s going on?” Sebastian asks.
“I just—”
“Is this your baby’s mom?” Shawn holds out his phone to Sebastian, keeping his head down.
Sebastian looks at me and then at the phone with his eyebrows pinched in. “Yes,” he says like he’s not sure if that’s a good answer or a bad answer.
Shawn brings the phone back to himself, swiping a few things before holding it back up to Sebastian to show the picture of Shawn and Lauryn at the ski resort the day they hooked up. “The date on this photo, is that around when you guys conceived your baby?”
Sebastian doesn’t bother looking at the phone. He keeps his eyes glued to me. I watch as the wheels in his head turn, making his softened face harden into a tight-jawed bite of anger.
“What’s going on here?” he asks through a tense jaw.
My breath staggers. “I was making you a surprise chocolate bar yesterday, and Shawn recognized the Deveraux name as a woman he hooked up with.”
“When?” His tone grows defensive as his hands retreat from mine.
I sigh and shrug. “I’m so sorry, Sebastian, but the date lines up. There’s a possibility Shawn is Oliver’s father.”
Sebastian stands so fast that the stool he was sitting on gets thrown back and falls on the ground, making a loud thud that startles me in the quietness surrounding us.
“Did you just shrug while standing here, telling me that this guy”—he points to Shawn but keeps his sight glued to me—“might be the father of Oliver instead of me?”
My mouth parts to speak, but I stammer. My eyes look down and up and all around, as I’m unsure of what to do or say. “This is an uncomfortable situation. I don’t know what to do with my shoulders.”
“Then, use your voice and spell it out.”
I cross my arms and then drop them before lifting my chin and looking Sebastian in the eye. “Shawn slept with Lauryn at the time she conceived Oliver.”
Sebastian places his hands on his hips and shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable.”
I raise my hands to put on his chest, but he pushes me off. I gasp in surprise.
“I’m not trying to upset you. It’s just … if there’s a chance Oliver is—”
“No!” Sebastian yells. “You are not going to assume this baby isn’t mine because your deadbeat employee can’t do fucking math. Oliver is mine. I’m his father.” He pounds on his chest.
“But don’t you want to at least think about this? What if—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” He steps up closer to me. The man who is always cool and controlled has fire in his eyes. My larger-than-life Leo, my optimist, the commander, has a dark side. A place of scorn and stubbornness. “You never wanted Oliver. You said you were okay with it, but you never were.”
“How dare you say that when I have done more than most women in this situation! I’ve sat idly by while you basked in this time. I’ve been supportive, devoted.”
“Then, why are your clothes still here when I have an empty closet, just waiting for you to finally take the leap? There never was a world where you and Oliver slept under the same roof. You were always the first to say that you shouldn’t be a part of the baby planning, shower, birth. You’ve excused yourself from everything, and it’s never been for me. It’s for you. You’ve always wished he never existed. I bet a piece of you is excited with the prospect that he could be Shawn’s.”
He paces a step and then looks back at me before continuing, “You never gave Oliver a chance, and you never gave me one. I never had a hundred percent of you. You always had one foot out the door, ready to run. I just could never figure out if it was me you were unsure of or Oliver. Now, I know it was both.”
“Sebastian, that’s not entirely true.”
He closes his eyes and lets remorse cover his face. “The fact that part of that speech was true is enough to break my heart.”
The tic in his jaw tics, his face as sharp as granite. With a hardened stare, he walks toward the door.
“Please, don’t leave,” I beg, but it’s no use.
Sebastian storms out, leaving me breathless—and for the first time since I met him, not in a good way.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sebastian
I leave Amy’s place in a mad rush, my knuckles reddened with how fierce I’m gripping the steering wheel. I’m used to stressful situations, I thrive in intense environments, but hearing Amy suggest that I might not be the father of Oliver is too much for me to handle. It’s like a knife to the stomach, only it’s not just one, but a thousand pulling in and out, like they’re trying to kill me all at once.
Red. I see it everywhere. I stormed out of there because if I hadn’t, I would have lost myself to the fire burning inside me and raged—which is not something I do often. I like being calm, organized, and just. What happened in there was torture to my heart.
Amy’s never been okay with me having a baby. The first night I told her about the pregnancy, I saw it on her face. The shock, the despair, the disappointment. It was understandable. We’d just started dating, and that was a huge ball for me to drop.
Still, I pursued her. I wasn’t lying when I said I’d never felt for another woman the way I do about her. She’s feisty and intelligent, funny and enchanting. Her beauty is immeasurable, and we’re attracted to each other with a fierceness of animals pawing at one another in the dawn of heat. Damn, if I haven’t spent many nights watching her naked form, asleep in my bed. Her dark hair splayed on my pillow and her long lashes fluttering as she dreams. The face of an angel, the heart of a saint, and the body of a vixen. She calls to me—mind, body, and soul—in ways that bring me to my knees.
Until tonight.
Shawn and his pathetic drunken state. He’s no man, behaving like that. I’m sure he believes the story he’s drinking his sorrows over, which is disgusting, to say the least. A man takes responsibility for his actions with a barreled chest and a strong gut. He doesn’t cower in a bottle of cheap booze.
“Fuck!”
The way Amy jumped on the believability train has me cursing. I bet she never questioned his story, the timing, the details. Her heart wants this to be true, so she was more than eager. I thought I knew her, that I loved her, but how can I love someone who would try to hurt me this way?
“Ahh!” I roar into the cabin of my car as I careen down the highway.
Wrath at Shawn and his story. Resentment at Amy and her reaction. Fury at myself for still loving her despite the fact that she doesn’t want the one thing I love as much as her.
Oliver.
My son.
MY.
SON.
He has to be mine.
My foot hits the gas pedal. I’ve never driven this fast. I don’t know where I’m going, and if I keep this up, I’ll crash, so I exit and pull over at the first opportunity and slam my fist against the steering wheel.
“Goddamn it!” I yell out.
A man walking by is startled by my outburst, but I pay him no attention as I drop my head back against the headrest.
After taking a few breaths, I start to lay out the details because I will prove to them that Oliver is mine.
He has to be.
Thinking back to the last times I was with Lauryn, I knew something was off, but I never would have thought she was cheating on me. I’ve always been very straightforward with my girlfriends. The one thing that I will never forgive is adultery. If you don’t want to be with me, fine, end it. Just don’t see other people behind my back.
That was how Lauryn and I ended. Quick, easy, and painless. We didn’t play with emotions or string the other along in pure selfishness. At least, that’s how I thought we’d ended. Infidelity was never on the radar. She would never. Well, I always thought she wouldn’t.
The first woman I’d ever loved cheated on me, and it felt terrible. I was young, in college, and bawled for days. It wasn’t my brightest moment, but my heart is fragile when
it comes to love. I take what I want, care for it, love it. If you break it, I break too.
I thought that was painful to live through back then, but this is a totally different situation. There’s a baby—my baby—who I’ve held since he was seconds old. I cut his umbilical cord and held him on my bare chest for skin-to-skin contact.
Shawn wasn’t there. He’s never been there.
Of course he hasn’t.
Shawn obviously hasn’t spoken to Lauryn in months because by his drunken state, he just figured this out, too, which means Lauryn can solve this very upsetting misunderstanding in seconds because she must have never reached out to him the way she did to me, saying I was the father.
I know Lauryn isn’t perfect, but I don’t see her being the kind of person who would lead someone astray like this when there’s a possibility he’s not the father.
I have to be the father.
I put the car in drive and peel out of my spot on the side of the road, needing to get to her.
At her building, I put the car in park, turn it off, and throw off the seat belt, slamming the door behind me. As I take two steps at a time inside her apartment building, going to the second floor, I still can’t get there fast enough. I need this feeling inside me to go away. I need to hear her say what I know to be the truth deep in my soul.
When my knock is louder and harder than it should be, I close my eyes, trying to calm the rage boiling inside me. I hear her open the door, but fear grips at my chest, and I don’t have the nerve to open my eyes until I ask the worst question I’ve ever had to ask in my life.
“Did you cheat on me?”
She doesn’t respond, and I feel the bile creeping up in my stomach, burning like a fuse that’s about to explode, as I repeat to myself, It’s not true. It’s not true.
I will myself to open my eyes, and when I do, I regret coming here at all. I’ve seen this expression on many people throughout my career. It reads I’m guilty, but I’m going to use everything in my power to lie like my life depends on it.
We stare at each other—me losing my mind inside but trying to stay calm because I won’t give up hope. Not yet.
“Why are you asking that?” she asks, stunned.
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