by Casey Hagen
“I don’t care. Just not you. You said this isn’t your baby. You looked me right in the eye and assured me that this was impossible. If you don’t still stand by that, I need to know now.”
“Oh, it’s not possible. But that doesn’t mean I want anything to happen to her baby in the process.”
“Shit,” Justin muttered.
“What?”
“We can cancel.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re emotional about this, and I need you to not be for about ten minutes.”
“I can do that.”
Justin narrowed his eyes and studied him.
Sebastian stared right back.
The intercom beeped, ending the showdown. “Mr. Sterns is here to see you with Miss Sandville.”
Justin shoved a hand through his hair and sighed. “Send them in,” he said with a push of the button. Pushing to his feet, he pointed at Sebastian. “Let me do the talking.”
Nerves propelled Sebastian to his feet. He had no nieces or nephews, no real knowledge of kids other than having been one at one time.
He’d been raised in a home with love and support.
Kate had stepped in and helped her sister with her son. Even in the worst of circumstances for them, they’d had support.
Who did this kid have?
What would become of the baby if Callie was already using him or her as a bargaining chip?
A serious-looking man in a gray suit led Callie Sandville into the room. Sebastian had only seen her on TV, wearing skin-tight dresses, flouncing her long, wavy blonde hair, and blinking her fake lashes oh-so innocently.
Clearly, somewhere between then and now, she’d been told to dial it down a notch.
Or twenty.
She’d pulled her hair back in a sleek, low ponytail and instead of those skin-tight dresses, she wore a sleeveless blouse with a knee-length, soft-pink skirt. She didn’t make eye contact and instead seemed to be aiming for a demure image.
His eyes traveled over that and landed on the slight swell of her abdomen.
At worst, she was a total con artist.
At best, she was a desperate woman scrambling to do anything to support her child.
Sebastian wasn’t the victim in this.
The child she carried was.
“Mr. Sterns. Miss Sandville,” Justin said, shaking their hands and gesturing to the opposite side of the table.
Her attorney dropped his briefcase on the table with a solid thump.
Callie finally glanced up. Her eyes shot open wide, and her face blanched all color. She moistened her lips, her eyes darting around the room, landing anywhere but on him.
Justin smoothed a hand over the front of his coat and took a seat. “My client has already submitted his DNA sample. In the interest of expediency, I expect your client would be willing to submit to amniocentesis so the question of paternity can be answered as soon as possible.”
“My client will not be submitting DNA via amniocentesis. She will, however, comply with any request for DNA submission once the child is born.”
“That’s convenient. And let me guess…in the meantime you request my client pay for any and all medical as well as living expenses on behalf of your client?”
Their voices faded into the background as his complete focus went to studying Callie. Her hands shook. She finally locked them together, linking her fingers so tight they turned white with the pressure.
Her fear exposed her lie. Not to the public, but here in this room. But her fingernails…they told another story altogether.
Gone were the acrylics she’d waved around in public, and in their place were neat, short nails. The petal-pink color, dotted with nicks and lines, had been painted at home. She hadn’t waited long enough for them to dry, leaving them marred on the surface.
Once he focused on the clues, more and more cropped up.
The button on her blouse that had been ripped off at some point had been sewn back on with ivory thread, not white.
The seam along her arm where the thread had broken free and the frayed fabric tucked under peeked out.
The diamond-looking earrings in her ears, too big, too shiny to be real.
“Actually, yes. In addition, we request Mr. Macina to pay a monthly allowance to my client,” Mr. Sterns said, handing a stack of papers to Justin, “to set aside the sum of twenty thousand dollars to fund the baby shower, a separate fund of an additional twenty thousand dollars to outfit the nursery and purchase the essentials for when the child is born. Finally, we’re requesting one hundred percent of Ms. Sandville’s attorney’s fees to be paid by your client as well.”
He’d guess she was one overdue notice away from having utilities shut off and terrified. Maybe she’d tagged along with a few ravenous friends who told her where they could have a good time and maybe meet a guy with money.
“We will entertain no such offer,” Justin said. “And you should prepare you client for the rough ride over the next several months. There will be depositions, interviews, inquiries, and all under rapt attention of the public. She should think long and hard about whether or not she really wants to go down this road. When my client is absolved of all responsibility, Miss Sandville’s reputation will be left in tatters,” Justin warned.
Sebastian leaned forward. “Aren’t you tired of this?”
Tense lines formed around Callie’s mouth.
“Mr. Macina, I expect you to address me and not my client,” Mr. Sterns said with a firm note of authority.
Sebastian didn’t even spare him a glance. “The attention, the lies, scrambling to keep it all straight. It’s draining.”
She blinked, and her eyes glossed over with unshed tears.
“Sebastian,” Justin warned.
“Some callous son of a bitch got you pregnant and took off. Am I right?”
The cords of her throat worked as she swallowed hard.
“You were desperate. Thought this would be a quick way to get money. You thought I would pay for your silence,” Sebastian said quietly.
A single tear rolled down her cheek.
“You didn’t deserve to be left,” he said.
The quiet of the room swelled.
Callie stared down at the table, misery weighing on her slumped shoulders.
“I don’t deserve to be used.”
She chewed on the inside of her cheek.
“And this baby doesn’t deserve to be the victim of tabloid drama,” Sebastian said quietly.
Her shoulders shook, and finally, a series of soft sobs broke free. “It wasn’t him. It was never him,” she said through the tears as she hung her head.
Mr. Sterns tossed his pen and leaned back with a heavy sigh.
Justin scrubbed his forehead, no doubt trying to stave off a looming stroke as his client went rogue and ignored his every instruction.
And the pressure squeezing his chest of worrying about endless gossip and a hungry, invasive public fell away on sweet relief.
His problems weren’t over. Not by a long shot.
But now he could focus on healing.
On a future with Kate.
Callie continued to cry, tears dripping into her lap.
Alone.
“Justin, I’m going to need you to draw up an agreement. Callie agrees to go to the public and admit I’m not the father and agrees to still bring in her son or daughter for DNA testing after birth to satisfy any lingering doubts.”
“Okay,” Justin agreed.
“One more thing,” Sebastian said. “She signs a nondisclosure agreement in reference to the fund I’m setting up for her and this child. The child will be cared for through college. She will have money to get her degree and solidify her own career. She’ll have a home bought outright and reliable transportation.”
Callie’s head snapped up. “Oh, I can’t; it’s not right. None of this—”
“Sebastian, this makes you look guilty,” Justin said.
“Yes, hence the paternity t
“But why?”
“Because I don’t want to wonder if this kid is going to sleep at night warm, with a full belly. I want to know he or she is. Let me know when the paperwork is ready, and it’ll be a done deal.”
Callie rushed out of her seat and threw her arms around him at the door. Shaking with fear, relief, embarrassment, who knows, maybe all of it, she clung to him. “I’m so sorry about all of this. I can’t thank you enough for what you’re doing. I don’t deserve it.”
He pulled back and snagged a tissue from the side table. “Take care of that baby and yourself. That’s all I ask.”
“I will. I promise,” she whispered with a watery smile.
He headed down the hall and out the front door, letting the sun wash over him for the briefest of minutes.
Yeah, he didn’t need to be kind to the woman who’d fucked with his life. But he knew that look of misery on her face. That sheer panic of being trapped in a corner. He’d felt that way when he’d slunk to Tallulah Cove to lick his wounds.
And found Kate.
He wanted nothing more than to call her. To drive back to Tallulah Cove and walk on the beach with her hand in his.
To cradle her in his arms under a mass of warm blankets.
He had everything. Callie had nothing. Giving up that money had no impact on him, but for Callie, it made all the difference in the world.
And he’d get the one thing he wanted.
Callie to tell the world the truth.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Admissions
KATE MET ABBY, BEN, THEIR kids, and her mom and dad at The Sea Orchid at the Leaping Water Inn on the southern tip of Tallulah Cove, for their traditional bimonthly brunch. Her parents started the family tradition when they moved to town, in an effort to wrangle time with their daughters. Or to torture them.
The jury was still out on that.
Ordinarily, Kate would have spent the morning sneaking treats to her niece and nephew, while dodging questions from her nagging mother about when she was going to settle down.
Like she hadn’t already settled down.
Twice.
One would think her mother had gotten the message that Kate wasn’t good at it. Or at least that maybe the two husbands in the ground were some sort of cosmic sign that Kate should find other companionship.
Like a cat.
She could be old Aunt Kate. Crazy Cat Lady.
“So, what’s new in your life, Kate, dear?” her mother asked around a bite of cantaloupe she had cut into pieces small enough for a toddler. Kate didn’t know why. It’s not like Amelia would eat it. All she had ever done with cantaloupe was shoot it across the room with an amazingly good throwing arm.
She should tell Sebastian about that. Maybe it was a sign.
Kate wished she could get away with throwing food and everyone still found her cute after.
It wasn’t cute at almost forty.
Abby kicked Kate under the table when she didn’t answer. Kate decided that today she might as well go for honesty. Maybe then her mother would leave the pamphlets about fertility in her purse.
“I’m diddling pro baseball player Sebastian Macina. He’s in his twenties,” she said before taking a sip of her mimosa.
Abby’s mouth fell open.
Ben hid a smile behind his hand.
Her mother choked on a pea-sized piece of cantaloupe.
Her father’s skin went bright red, and that vein in his temple started throbbing.
But Amelia took the cake when she said, “What’s diddling mean?”
The table broke out in chaos with everyone talking over one another. Ben lifted Amelia into his lap and distracted her from the fray.
“I’m going to go to the ladies’ room,” Kate said, making her escape.
Call her a coward, but her mother had been pressuring her to move on.
She finally had.
Okay, so maybe that hadn’t been the best idea. But dammit, it had been four days since she’d seen Sebastian, and phone calls just weren’t cutting it. Especially when he sounded stressed and tense on the other end.
She pushed her way into the bathroom and clutched the counter.
But had she?
Could she really claim she had moved on when William still sat in that damn urn?
The events of the past week cast a haze over her memories with William. Before Sebastian, when she’d remember, everything seemed so clear.
The pieces fit.
Now, everything was unfocused, and she couldn’t find a place for her in the memories.
Because she was still alive.
And William was never coming back.
She needed to let him go.
A tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away. She’d spent two years grieving. No more. She was moving on.
A petite blonde in a teal bandage dress sidled up next to her and pulled out a compact.
Kate glanced down at her own sleeveless hunter-green blouse and ivory silk pants, and resisted rolling her eyes, just barely.
Where did this woman think she was, at a nightclub?
The woman leaned forward, thrusting her breasts out, and swiped on a fresh coat of pink lipstick. “Did I hear you say you were seeing Sebastian Macina?” she chirped, never taking her eyes off of her own reflection.
“Maybe.” Kate had no idea where this was going, but hey, she could be a good sport.
The woman looked her up and down. The top corner of her upper lip lifted slightly, as if she just found used toilet paper stuck to her brand-new Manolo Blahniks. “I just hope you don’t actually think it’s serious. I mean, he’s part of that circle of ballplayers, the ones who’ve made a pact to only date old women.”
Kate froze. Her ears buzzed. She clenched her hands into fists and then forced them to relax.
She. Was. Not. Old.
Kate turned and stepped up to the fetus in heels. She took pleasure in watching the little bimbo topple on her four-inch spikes and catch herself on the paper towel holder.
“Excuse me?” Kate said, her voice low with fury.
Who the fuck was this little shit to come in here and try to put her in her place, like Kate was some pathetic wannabe?
“No need to get upset. It’s just one of those little games the guys play, you know? This month is finding the hottest cougar. Next month it will be finding the best body.” She looked Kate up and down again.
If she didn’t stop doing that, Kate was going to make her eat the paper towel dispenser.
“How do you know this?”
“Oh, that? Well, the guys, Sebastian’s friends, were at the bar the other night, and they were talking about it. They said they were coming out here to check out the cougar Sebastian landed this month.”
Kate locked her jaw and sucked in a breath through her nose.
“It’s nothing to get worked up over. Those guys are like that. New flavor of the month every time you turn around. Some of us get lucky and get the ring,” she said, a big smile on her face. “Some of us don’t,” she said, directing a pointed look at Kate before ducking out of the bathroom.
She hoped the twit tripped on her heels in just the right way that she fell on them and gave herself a new hole.
In a really painful place.
Sebastian.
How could he? All that crap about not wanting to date a fetus and being tired of the women who threw themselves at players daily for years.
It was all just bullshit.
Marry me.
The way he’d said the words, she’d almost convinced herself they were genuine and he was around to stay. She hadn’t said yes, but she had wanted to see where they went.
Well, not now. Fuck him.
This is what happened when you set aside common sense and believed in whirlwind fairytales and love at first sight.
She’d been flirting with disaster since the very first time she’d laid eyes on him, and it bit her in the ass.
Her heart squeezed, letting her know that the hard line she took was more her way of convincing herself that she didn’t need him, when the truth was the peace she had found to fill the hole inside her had just disappeared.
All those times she’d agonized over her age and told him. She groaned. What had she been thinking telling him all that?
Despite the trust she had put in him, he’d played her anyway.
He’d hurt her, and she’d let him into her heart to do it.
She was the idiot.
She rushed back to their table, where order was restored, and grabbed her purse. “I’m sorry to take off on you, but something came up, and I have to go.”
“But, honey, you hardly ate,” her mother said.
“I’ll grab something in a bit.”
“What happened?” Abby asked.
She looked her sister in the eye, and tears welled up. Unable to say a word, she shook her head and headed for the door.
Abby caught up with her at her convertible, slapping her hand over the handle before Kate could open the door.
Abby grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. “Hey, what the hell happened in there?”
A sob broke free, much to Kate’s mortification. “I just found out that Sebastian and his buddies all made it their goal to hunt down older women for a good time before dumping them for whatever flavor they all go for the next month. Nice, huh?” Tears streamed down her cheeks. Angry, hot tracks that pissed her off even more, because she had given him enough power to make her cry.
She’d buried two husbands, dammit. She didn’t cry over guys. She especially didn’t cry over them after one crazy fling.
“Oh, honey. Are you sure?”
“Yes, they were overheard having a conversation about it. Apparently, all his ballplayer buddies are here to meet his cougar of the month.”
“Oh, Kate. I’m sorry. Jesus. What the hell was he thinking, playing with you that way?”
“It was all a game. Life is just one big game to guys like him.” She shook her head and wiped her tears. “I have to go. Please, cover for me with Mom and Dad. I don’t care what you tell them. Just make them understand.”
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