Who's Your Daddy?

by Gallagher, Lauren

  Marie chewed her lip.

  “When’s your next appointment with David and me?” I flipped open the folder to see if I’d written it down in here.

  “Tomorrow afternoon,” she said. “Four o’clock.”

  Closing the folder again, I said, “Would you like me to bring it up then? Get the conversation rolling?”

  She exhaled, and her shoulders dropped a little, relaxing. “You don’t mind?”

  I smiled. “Of course not.” I glanced at the clock on the wall. “It looks like our time is up for now, though.”

  “Already?” She pulled back her sleeve and looked at her watch. “I suppose it is.” She rose, as did I, and, as she always did before she left, she hugged me.

  “Thank you, Isaac,” she whispered.

  “You’re welcome,” I said. “This is what I’m here for.”

  She let me go, smiled, then gathered her coat and purse and left. After she’d gone, I checked my schedule. No more appointments for another hour. Good a time as any to go out and grab something to eat.

  On my way out, Angela, my receptionist, stopped me. “Donovan called a little while ago. Also, someone named Carmen asked for you to give her a call.”

  I furrowed my brow. “Carmen?”

  Angela cocked her head. “She said you’d have the number—”

  “What? Oh, yes, I have it. Thanks.” I gestured at the waiting-area door. “I’ll call her on my cell while I’m at lunch. Thanks, Angie.”

  As I walked down the stairs from my third-floor office to the building’s lobby, a knot tightened beneath my rib cage. That was odd. Carmen had my work number, but she didn’t usually call me during the day. And neither Donovan nor I had heard from her much over the last few weeks. I’d tried to chalk up the silence to her ironing everything out after her divorce, but deep down, I had a feeling it had more to do with the last time we saw her.

  Why now? Why in the middle of the day?

  Only one way to find out.

  As soon as I was outside, I pulled out my cell phone and speed-dialed her.

  “Hey, Isaac,” she said when she picked up. And it was hard to tell from two words, but I swore she sounded relieved.

  “Hey,” I said. “Um, you called?”

  “Yeah.” She paused. “I…do you have a little time this afternoon? Maybe I could come by?”

  My heart pounded. “Yeah, sure. I mean, I have a couple of appointments, but I’ll be around. What’s up?”

  “I’d rather talk face-to-face,” she whispered, and my blood pressure shot up.

  “Okay, sure, we can do that. When do you think you can be here? I’ve got another window between clients from about one to two; would that work?”

  “That’d be fine.” Definitely relief this time. “I’ll see you then.”

  “You sure you’re okay, Carmen?”

  I swore I could hear an unspoken “No, I’m not” coming down the line, but she just said, “I’m fine. I’ll see you at one.”

  “All right. See you soon.”

  After Carmen hung up, I looked at my phone, furrowing my brow at the now darkened screen. I made my living figuring out what was bothering people, or at least helping them figure it out. Over the phone, there was no body language to read, no darting gazes or nervous fidgeting like I saw every day in my office, but there was no mistaking her tone. Something was wrong, even if I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  I was fairly certain I could narrow it down, though. We’d barely heard from her since the night a little too much wine got us into bed together. The morning after had been awkward and quiet, all of us probably wondering what the hell we’d been thinking. There were hangovers all around, which hadn’t encouraged much conversation, and before any of us worked up the nerve to broach the subject, Carmen had to leave and Donovan had to get to work.

  Much like Donovan, Carmen was the type who sometimes needed to process things on her own before discussing them. He nearly always needed to be alone until he’d had a chance to think things over on his own, as aggravating as it was for someone like me who preferred to discuss problems sooner than later.

  Now that she’d had some time, Carmen probably wanted to sit down with us and settle things. Get everything out on the table, discuss it, and put it to rest so we could move on without any awkwardness.

  Hopefully she really had the nerve to bring it up. I was adept at asking the right questions to get a married couple talking to each other or lead them to the problems hiding beneath the surface, but I was an objective third party in those situations. Addressing the elephant in my own living room with my boyfriend and one of my best friends? Different story.

  I also didn’t want to embarrass her or make her uncomfortable.

  I didn’t regret it, though. I’d had a thing for Carmen for a long time. Though I’d never touched a woman before that night, I’d done my share of looking over the years, and plenty of that looking had been directed at her. She was an amazing woman, the kind who had a contagious zest for life and a wicked sense of humor that rivaled Donovan’s. The last few years of her marriage had eroded away a lot of that zest for life, but ever since she left Paul’s sorry ass, the spark in her eye had come back, and she was more attractive than ever.

  And after she’d detached herself from Paul, we’d all had a little liquid courage, and before I knew it, I’d lost what was left of my virginity.

  Now that I’d been with her, I wasn’t just bi-curious. I was definitely bisexual, and I definitely still wanted her. She was even more beautiful undressed, and in bed, she was playful and passionate, not to mention just as insatiable as the two of us. It was a wonder any of us could move the next day.

  I didn’t regret that it happened, but like Donovan, I regretted how it had happened. Being drunk left too much room for someone to wake up the next morning and wonder what the fuck they’d been thinking. It left her a chance to drive home, coffee in hand and sunglasses on, second-guessing every touch, every kiss, every orgasm, and wondering if we’d really wanted her or if it had just been the alcohol. We hadn’t been too intoxicated to negate consent, but we’d certainly consumed enough to lower our inhibitions.

  The fantasy had been there for a long, long time. Donovan and I had discussed it plenty of times, both wishing we could find a way to invite her into a threesome without screwing up our friendship. No, it wasn’t just the alcohol. The only thing the wine had done was drawn out the words. I wondered if I’d need to tap into that to work up the courage to tell her we didn’t regret it and did want to do it again.

  Donovan had gone back and forth on it. He enjoyed it, he was thrilled to see me indulge my curiosity about women, but, like me, wasn’t sure if the ramifications to our friendship with Carmen would be worth it. I agreed with him. As much as I wanted to do it again, I wouldn’t think of it if it meant risking our friendship.

  No sense analyzing it to death before she got here, though. I’d see how she felt about what had happened, and from there, figure out if we should broach the subject of a rematch.

  That, and I’d see what was on her mind that had her so wound up on the phone and needing to talk in my office.

  I continued down the block to a deli I frequented. Once I had my lunch, I took a seat by the window, and my mind wandered right back to Carmen.

  Whatever was on her mind, I hoped she didn’t regret that night. Even if she didn’t want to do it again, I didn’t want her to regret it.

  And I couldn’t deny I wanted to do a little more exploring with a woman. Before we’d slept with her, I’d thought Carmen would be the ideal woman because I knew her, I was comfortable with her, and I wouldn’t be as nervous with her. In hindsight, maybe a stranger would have been a better idea. Then again, I didn’t particularly like the idea of hooking up with someone to indulge some curiosity, then cutting her loose. Even if she was completely game, it smacked of using someone, and I couldn’t quite stomach that.

  Maybe this curiosity was better left unsatisfied.

&nb
sp; That’s what you get for waiting until this late in the game to give it a shot, dumbass.

  I sighed and shook my head. I’d always been a little curious about women but assumed and accepted I was gay. I hadn’t understood bisexuality. It was one or the other, I thought, and I wasn’t about to give up men. Then along came Donovan. Next thing I knew, sex with a woman was on my “Oh shit, I’m almost forty and still haven’t…” list, ranking right up there with skydiving and owning a Mustang. Now, with my birthday rapidly approaching, the car was in the garage, and neither my mother nor my left knee had forgiven me for jumping out of a perfectly good airplane.

  And, for better or worse, I’d been with a woman.

  I’d asked Angela to send Carmen back to my office when she came in, so when the gentle knock came at one o’clock sharp, I knew it was her. With my heart in my throat, I went to the door and pulled it open.

  Some women could get away with never bothering to wear makeup, and Carmen was one of them. Her fair skin contrasted flawlessly with her lips and her nearly black eyes. My sister had met her a year or two ago, and to this day swore she’d sell her soul for eyelashes like Carmen’s.

  Today, Carmen’s long, dark brown hair was pulled up in a loose ponytail, a few strands falling beside her face and reminding me of the way she’d looked when Donovan had grabbed her hair last time, and there went my neutral, professional, platonic approach to this conversation.

  I muffled a cough and forced a smile. “Hey, stranger.”

  “Hey,” she said with a shy smile and quickly broken eye contact.

  That wasn’t a good sign.

  “It’s, um, it’s good to see you. Been a while.”

  She met my eyes again. “Good to see you too.” We exchanged a quick hug before I stepped aside to let her in.

  We lingered by the door for a minute, alternately meeting each other’s eyes and looking away like a couple of uncertain teenagers. And even though I couldn’t hold her gaze for very long, nor could she hold mine, I did sneak a few surreptitious looks at her.

  Maybe I just saw her in a different light now that I’d seen her undressed, but God damn it, she looked good. She always had, but evidently sleeping with her had made me that much more aware of it. She was beautifully curvy, the kind of woman whose hips just begged for a man’s hands on them. Now that I’d held them in my hands, I desperately wanted to again. How the hell had I ever thought I was one hundred percent gay? Women didn’t usually register on my radar, but when they did, especially this woman, the attraction was strong to say the least.

  I’d seen that blouse before, its modest neckline showing off just the most mouthwatering hint of her collarbones. I know what her skin tastes like there, I thought with a shiver. Maybe it was just my perspective being skewed by the knowledge of what was beneath her clothes, but I didn’t recall her filling out the top of her blouse like that before.

  Say the word, Carmen. Just say the word.

  Clearing my throat, I gestured for her to follow me to the area where I sat with my clients.

  “This is all I’ve got.” I nodded at the couch and armchairs. “I hope it doesn’t feel too much like you’re my client or something.”

  Carmen laughed. “It’s okay, I’ll manage.” She took a seat on the couch and pulled her legs up under her.

  Usually, I’d sit in one of the armchairs, but that made me feel too much like this was a therapy session, so I sat on the couch instead, leaving half a cushion or so of breathing room between us.

  “So, what’s up?” I asked.

  Carmen wrung her hands. Taking a deep, ragged breath, she stared at the floor in front of the sofa instead of looking at me.

  The counselor in me knew a million ways to gently coax an answer out of someone. The friend knew when to put a platonic arm around her or touch her hand. The man who’d slept with her…didn’t know where the lines were anymore.

  I swallowed hard. “Carmen?”

  “I…” Her cheek rippled as if she’d clenched her jaw. Then, all at once, her shoulders dropped, and she released a breath that came out as a sob. “Fuck, Isaac, I’m…”

  “What’s wrong?” I moved closer to her and wrapped my arm around her shoulders. “Carmen, talk to me, sweetheart.”

  She covered her eyes with a trembling hand, and my blood turned cold. She sniffed. I thought she shuddered but quickly realized it was another barely stifled sob. My heart pounded. I’d never seen this woman cry. Ever. And no matter how much she apparently tried to keep me from seeing it now, she couldn’t quite contain her emotions.

  I kept one arm around her and reached up with the other to gently brush a tear from her cheek. We’d always been physically affectionate in a platonic way, and sitting like this now almost felt awkward. Like we shouldn’t have been this close now that we’d been that close. But whatever we’d done, she was still my friend, and I wasn’t about to push her away, especially not if she was in this puzzling and alarming state.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked again.

  She sniffed and looked away. “Fuck, I told myself I wouldn’t do this.” She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes, cursing softly.

  “It’s okay.” Guilt twisted in my gut. This had to be about the threesome, and I’d had no idea it bothered her this much. I swallowed hard. “Is this about…that night? At our place?”

  She winced and dropped her gaze, sending my heart into my feet. Then she gave a slow, subtle nod.

  “Which part?” I asked. “I mean, if you’re wondering if we thought it was a mistake, we don’t. Neither of us regrets it.”

  “It’s not that,” she whispered, and a smile tried halfheartedly to come to life. “I enjoyed it, believe me.”

  Well, that was something, but…

  “So, what is it?” I asked.

  Carmen moistened her lips. When her tear-filled eyes met mine, it was one of those unnerving moments in my life when time ground to a halt for a few nerve-racking seconds, and I had absolutely no idea what was about to happen.

  Finally, she spoke. “I’m pregnant.”

  The air in my lungs turned to lead, and the blood in my veins turned to ice. Had I been standing, my knees would have buckled as I stared at her, lips parted and eyes wide. When I could finally convince enough air to move to allow me to speak, I said, “Are you…” Serious? Joking? Come on, Isaac, she wouldn’t joke about that. “…sure?”

  She nodded slowly.

  Holy. Fucking. Shit.

  Carmen broke eye contact and exhaled. “I’m so sorry, Isaac, this is…it’s…”

  “Don’t apologize.” I stroked her hair. “We were just as much a part of this as you were.”

  “Well, one of you, anyway,” she said dryly.

  My hand stopped. Our eyes met again. The shock hadn’t yet worn off, and up until she’d said that, I hadn’t gotten that far yet.

  Carmen wiped her eyes again and looked away. “Jesus, I can’t believe I didn’t even think to use condoms.”

  “No kidding.” The words came out as little more than a hollow whisper.

  Taut silence hung in the air. What was someone supposed to say? The marriage counselor in me probably knew what to say, but the man who’d just found out his best friend was carrying either his or his boyfriend’s baby was, to say the least, at a loss for words.

  And how the hell did we forget to use condoms? There was no doubt we were all pretty well trashed, especially if it even slipped Donovan’s mind. He’d already become a father at an inopportune time once in his life; it wasn’t something he took lightly. It wasn’t something any of us took lightly.

  I’d used protection in my single days, of course, but I’d been with Donovan so long it hadn’t crossed my mind in years. And getting someone pregnant had just…it hadn’t been something I’d ever had to consider when I was having sex. That night, it had just happened. Unplanned, unanticipated, without any second thoughts. And we were drunk and horny and…

  Here we were.

  I gulped. “H
ow long have you known?”

  “Since this morning.” She sniffed. “Right before I called you.”

  “And you’re sure it was that night that—”

  “What kind of slut do you take me for, Isaac?” She wrenched away from my grasp and glared at me. “Do you really—”

  I put a hand up. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry, Carmen.” I reached for her shoulder, and thankfully, she didn’t recoil from my touch. “I’m just, I’m still trying to get this into my head. I didn’t mean to imply anything.”

  She relaxed and let me pull her close again. “It’s okay. I’m having a hell of a time getting it into my head too.”

  “I can only imagine, sweetheart.” I kissed her forehead.

  “We need to tell Donovan,” she whispered. “You don’t think he’ll be upset that I told you first, will he?”

  “No, he won’t.” I held her a little tighter, and she sank against me.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she said unsteadily. “This… Christ, I can barely take care of myself right now.”

  “We’ll figure something out.” I stroked her hair, hoping my own nerves didn’t make it into my voice. “Why don’t I talk to Don tonight? Then you can come to the house tomorrow, and the three of us can talk things over. Or would you rather wait until we’re all together?”

  “You don’t mind?” She lifted her head off my shoulder and looked up at me. “Telling him?”

  “Of course not.” I tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You’ve already had to work up the nerve to tell me. I can tell him.”

  Nodding slowly, she just whispered, “Thank you.”

  That night, the sound of Donovan’s car in the driveway made me shiver, and not the way it usually did.

  Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and promised myself I could do this. Maybe not right this second—if Donovan had had a particularly difficult shift, this was the last thing he needed—but tonight. Tomorrow morning, if he was absolutely not in a good place tonight. Soon.

  I pushed my chair back from my desk and left my home office, pulling the door closed behind me. As I came down the stairs into the kitchen, the front door opened and footsteps tapped on the hard floor of the foyer.