by JJ Knight
Ten days. So she had a couple of rendezvous. That doesn’t seem too crazy. “Who is this other guy?”
“His name is Brian. I’m going to meet with him this afternoon. See if he’ll do a DNA test.”
I picture Havannah being accosted by some strange man while holding Rebel, and my concern rises. “Is he safe? What do you know about him?”
She shrugs. “He was all right the night I met him. A bit nerdy. He’s a computer programmer. Nothing wild.”
“Where are you meeting?”
“A coffee shop. Very public.”
“Are you bringing Rebel?”
“Oh, no. Magnolia is watching him. I’ll try to bring it up gently.”
I realize I’m clutching the armrest with an iron grip. I force myself to release it. “What will happen if he’s the one?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“If you need a lawyer, or any legal help, I can give you some options.”
“I know. That’s great. I feel like, I don’t know, maybe I should handle this on my own.” She gives me a small smile. “I’m a big girl.”
“I know. I worry. What time is the meeting? Can I talk to you after?”
“Not until six. It will be, like, two or three in the morning there.”
“I don’t care. I’ll wait up.”
“Okay, Donovan. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
She changes the subject after that, and we talk about the castle again, and how she’s looked into the tourism programs that might be like the ones in Europe. “Just for fun,” she says. “I was curious. I already have a degree in hospitality.”
“You want a castle, eh?”
“I guess that’s something you could drum up in a day.”
“It does seem there are some for sale.” I click on a few keys, bringing up castles in France and the U.K. “I see about ten in my price range.”
“You have a price range?”
“Not really.” And it’s true—I could procure any of them. Not that they’d be a good investment.
She laughs. “Is there anything you can’t do?”
“Hold you in my arms.”
She sighs. “True. We’re pretty far apart.”
“Soon, though. I’ll move heaven and earth to get there.”
“That will be perfect.” She closes her eyes. “Until then, I’ll just have to picture you on a balcony.”
“Now that’s a good memory.”
“And imagine reliving it all over again.”
“We will.”
We sit in silence for a while, both of us thinking about the future moments we’ll have together.
And I try to push her meeting with this Brian guy out of my mind.
31
Havannah
I figure the other coffee shop is bad luck, and Magnolia agrees, as it’s the same place where she first learned her feud with Anthony had gone viral, and not in a good way.
So I pick a Starbucks for its bright interior and commercial familiarity. I can’t imagine anything going epically wrong in a Starbucks.
When I arrive, Brian is already there. I remember him a little better than the others, mostly because we went to a nice dinner and had an actual conversation before getting down to the matter we’d joined the app for.
He stands up and heads over to me, his expression rather serious. “Hello, Havannah. You said it was important we see each other.”
“Let me get a latte first,” I say, and I notice that even though Brian was certainly a gentleman the first time, he doesn’t offer to head to the counter with me or buy me a coffee.
It’s fine. I put in my order and join him at a table in the center of the room.
He’s pale, with thin, fine hair in a corporate cut. He looked more outdoorsy on the app, kayaking with a helmet on. Probably an old picture. But compared to Mark and Jesse, he’s awesome. Total dad material.
“So I guess you remember we hooked up almost a year ago,” I say.
He nods. “I’m not on the app anymore. I only got your message because it was forwarded to my email. I deleted it from my phone, but I guess the app still sends notifications from old matches.”
“I’m glad. It was rather urgent I talk to you.”
“Is something wrong? Do you have a diagnosis or something I should be concerned about?”
He’s worried about an STD. I draw in a long breath and unlock my phone. I pull up a photo of Rebel. I turn it to him.
“Who’s this?” he asks.
“I had a baby two months ago. It puts conception in early October.”
He stares at the image, the color slowly draining from his face. “He’s mine?”
“I’m not totally sure. I’m hoping you’ll take a DNA test.” I quickly add, “I don’t expect anything from you. I have a great family and lots of support. I just want to know for sure.”
“But if he’s my kid…” He can’t take his eyes off the photo.
“We can work that out.” Panic darts through me. Maybe he’ll try to take Rebel from me. Have I misjudged? Was this the biggest mistake I could have made?
“Do you have other pictures?”
“You’re asking a mama if she has pictures of her baby?” I laugh and try to lighten the mood, but my belly is tight.
I quickly zip past the trip and find a safe cache of images from Rebel’s first six weeks. Brian watches them go by, rapt. “How long will the test take?”
“I brought a kit. It’s a few days. Rebel is already done.”
“That’s his name? Rebel?” He can’t take his eyes off the screen.
I nod. “Rebel Zachariah.”
Brian finally breaks his gaze from the phone. “Okay. Where’s the kit?”
I dig through my purse and pull it out. “Here. It’s prepaid.”
“Will I get the result?”
“I can send you the login.”
“I’d appreciate that. It’s not that I don’t trust you.”
I hold up a hand. “I get it. Honestly, you’re taking this well.”
He shakes his head. “I have to. We might have a long relationship ahead.”
Relationship. I know what he means, a parental one and not a couple one, but he’s right. If he is the dad, and the revised dates suggest he might be, we’ll know each other for all of Rebel’s life.
“I think that’s your drink,” Brian says. “I’ll get it.” He stands up to head to the counter. So he’s being polite. The baby has changed his tune.
He sets the drink in front of me. “Are you hungry? Can I get you anything else?”
I shake my head. This is a complete turnaround from Jesse the jailbird and disappearing Marco Polo.
He sits down. “You said you weren’t sure. So there’s someone else?”
I nod. “That’s why I didn’t contact you before. I thought someone else was the father. But it turns out my dates were wrong. So you became a candidate.”
“How likely a candidate?”
I wrap both hands around my cup. “A highly likely candidate.”
Brian lets out a rush of air. “This is a lot.”
“I know. It was a lot for me when I found out. And you know, had a baby.”
“I wish I could have been there to help. Did you go through it all alone?”
“I have an amazing sister. My family had a hard time with it at first, but now that he’s here, they’re in love with him.”
“They don’t ask about the father?”
“All the time. But I’ve put them off.”
Silence falls between us, the music from the speakers filling in the quiet. The barista calls out, “Stephen! Mocha latte!”
Brian stares at his cup. “Were you scared?”
He does seem to want to know about my welfare. “Sure. I thought I was in labor once, but I was wrong. The second time I was in a restaurant when my water broke…” I trail off, deciding not to mention Donovan. “But my family surrounded me and we got it done.”
&
nbsp; “Will you need support? Can you afford him?”
“I’m not rich or anything, but my sister and I run a deli. We’re getting by okay.”
His eyes, a pale green flecked with brown, meet mine. For a moment, I pang with regret. If I told him at the beginning, if I knew, he could have been there for all the things he’s missed. Maybe we might have had a relationship. Maybe Rebel would have been surrounded by a loving mother and father the whole time.
I shake it off. It could still not be him. There’s dreaded Marco Polo. But something about the way Brian’s eyebrows gather when he’s worried reminds me of Rebel. I can see him in the baby.
Maybe it’s wishful thinking. But as we say our goodbyes and Brian promises to meet me when we get the results, I can’t help but wonder what might have been if my cycle was normal. If I’d known more about sonogram dating. If I told my doctor I was trying to weed out candidates, and he went over the information with me. I shouldn’t have been so embarrassed and stupid about it.
But here we are.
Brian walks me to my car, carefully closing my door and waving as I pull out of my slot. A gentleman.
I feel like my whole life rests on that one little test.
32
Donovan
I manage to wrap up my Milan business on Monday rather than Tuesday, so I decide to fly straight to Boulder to surprise Havannah.
From our conversations, I already know she’s more or less given up on doing much with the deli. She tried for a few days after her parents insisted, but something about the noise in the dining room set Rebel off into a storm of inconsolable crying. She thinks it must be a combination of the acoustics and some developmental phase he’s in.
Since she can’t bake or chop in the kitchen with him in the sling, she’s back to doing social media work from home. She confessed during one conversation that she often feels like the new deli isn’t even hers.
I want to give her the time of her life in her own town, so I book the biggest suite in one of the few luxury hotels in Boulder. I plan for massages and facials and mani-pedis, everything I can get on a flexible schedule to work around Rebel. It will be perfect.
I check in before heading out to find her, wanting everything to be in place. Champagne on ice. Cheese plates in the fridge. Fruit and chocolate. I picked up a silky robe in Milan that I can’t wait to take off her.
When I’m done, I hop into the limo and text her, trying to get a bead on where she’s at, schedule-wise. I assume she’s at home.
She says she’s about to head to Starbucks with Rebel, and I think—perfect. A public surprise is even better, because I can find her rather than knock on her door.
A quick search shows me over a dozen of them in town, but only three are likely candidates, closest to her apartment.
I head to the first one and pop in. Only a couple of customers are inside, students with headphones.
I move on to the next one. Busier, but no Havannah.
I wish I knew what car she drives. We stop at the third one, and this time I catch a flash of long blond hair inside a window. Could that be her?
I pause outside the door, checking the collar of my polo and squaring my shoulders. This is going to be great.
The music is louder inside than I expect. The place is busy. I step inside, and sure enough, there is Havannah, her back to me, Rebel waving his arms in his car seat.
But I’m frozen in place. There’s a man sitting at their table. He pushes a piece of paper across to Havannah, and she nods, setting it aside as if she already knows what it says.
He turns to the baby and says, “I’m not sure what to do!”
“It’s easy.” Havannah unclips the harness and lifts Rebel out of the seat.
I step to the side of the door, not sure what to do myself. This must be the man Havannah thinks is the father. The computer guy.
In fact, based on this exchange, it looks like they’ve figured it out.
And he is the father.
She didn’t tell me about this meeting, and I assume that was on purpose. I don’t know exactly why, although I trust she has her reasons. The last thing I heard was that he agreed to take the test.
Havannah stands, and so does the man. She passes the baby to him. There’s a look of wonder on his face. He seems totally fine with this turn of events. I can’t see Havannah’s expression.
The man stares at the baby, and my gut tightens. Rebel reaches up, and his fist connects with the man’s chin. He smiles and takes the tiny hand in his.
He glances up at Havannah. “He’s perfect,” he says. “He’s a little you.”
I can’t quite catch what Havannah says back to him. He drops in his chair, his hand on Rebel’s chest. Havannah sits back down. She has no idea I’m here.
And I shouldn’t be.
Because what is taking place looks perfect. Like what should be happening.
Like what is meant to be.
When the man turns to Havannah, his eyes full of emotion, I know I need to give them their space. I should not intrude here. Maybe not ever. Because they have things to figure out.
And as an honorable person recognizing a difficult situation, I should remove myself from the narrative until they do. At least until Havannah tells me herself about the situation. Maybe the two of them are developing feelings. Maybe it’s going to work out for Rebel that he has both a mother and a father.
So without a word, I ease back out of the door and to my limo. I cancel the room and the appointments. I have staff gather up all the food and drinks and pack my things to be sent by courier to the airport.
I ask Simon to submit a flight plan back to New York and have the limo driver take me out to the airfield.
At least until Havannah wants to share with me about the turn her life is taking, my relationship with her needs to go on hold.
33
Havannah
Magnolia waits for me at home when I return from Starbucks, cross-legged on the sofa with a pint of ice cream.
“You look like you could walk on air,” she says.
Rebel is asleep, so I set the car seat on the floor and flop onto the sofa beside her. “I’m feeling pretty good.”
“So it went well?”
She already knows Brian is the father. We pulled up the results online together before I called him to meet.
“He was so amazing, Mags. Really took to the baby. We’re going to have dinner tomorrow night. He wants to be involved.”
Mags stares into her half-empty pint. “Dinner?”
“With the baby.”
“Is there something happening between the two of you?”
“Oh, gosh. That’s a question! I liked how he was with Rebel. He’s a natural.”
She presses her lips together. I can see the disapproval all over her face.
“What about Donovan?”
“He should be here this week if things go well,” I say. “Maybe even tomorrow.”
“But you’re having dinner with Brian tomorrow.”
I sit up. “Right! Oh, shit! I can reschedule with Brian if Donovan makes it.”
Magnolia sets the ice cream on the coffee table as if she suddenly can’t stand the sight of it. “Are you going to end up in some clichéd love triangle?”
“No! Of course not! I’m completely Team Donovan.”
“Be careful,” Magnolia says. “There’s a lot of hearts involved.”
“I know it.”
My phone dings, and I dig it out of the diaper bag. It’s Donovan.
My stomach falls as I read.
Sorry to reroute our plans, but my pit stop in Boulder has to be delayed. Rain check?
I type, Of course, and drop the phone to the cushion.
“What’s going on?” Magnolia asks.
“Donovan can’t come after all.” My head falls back on the sofa. I focus on a water stain on the ceiling.
“I’m sorry.” Mags nudges me with the pint. “It’s a third full.”
I take
it from her and carve out a spoonful.
We sit for a moment, and I let the cold, creamy goodness slip down my throat. “It’s not going to work out with him, is it?” I ask.
Magnolia kicks her feet up on the coffee table. “It’s hard for him to get here, obviously.”
“I’m not good with long-distance things.”
“You’re not good with short-distance things.”
I nudge her again, and she laughs.
“It’s true, though,” she says.
“I know.” I swallow another bite of ice cream. “Do you think it could be different with Brian?” As much as my heart screams Donovan, maybe I do have to face facts. He’s a billionaire with a busy life.
Magnolia twirls her ponytail around her finger. “What was Brian like a year ago?”
“A little dull to talk to. But nice. Courteous.”
“Nice and courteous. The opposite of what my sister normally goes for.”
She’s not lying. “I know.”
“And in the sack?” She elbows me. “Because we know where your priorities lie.”
“It was fine. Nothing wild, nothing terrible.”
“Such a ringing endorsement.”
I lick the spoon. I want to steer the conversation away from any potential involvement between me and Brian. “What’s the wildest thing you’ve ever done?” I ask her.
“With Anthony?”
“With anybody.”
“Well, it would be with Anthony.”
I nudge her with my shoulder this time. “So Anthony’s a wild child?”
Her cheeks go pink. “Sometimes.”
“Tell your sister. What wild thing did you two do?”
“I shouldn’t.”
Now she has my interest. “Oh, you totally should.”
“We might have used Dad’s office.”
I sit up straight. “What?”
She realizes she’s managed to shock the queen of shock and sinks into the sofa. “He wasn’t in town. He wasn’t going to catch us.”
“Wait. You have your own office right next door, but still you and hotcakes Pickle decide to use your father’s? Dayum, Mags.”