Page 11 of Trusting You
Laughter barks out of me, and while surprising, it feels good. “What cash? I’m a washed-up pro athlete, not even staying in the game long enough for the ink to dry on my contract.”
“Yeah, but your family. Your inheritance.”
“Means nothing,” I say. “Doesn’t kick in till I’m thirty.”
“This is so suspicious, though, dude. Yesterday we were knocking back drinks at a club before season starts, and now we’re sitting here in the middle of the day with”—one of the kids shrieks and Ben waits for it to finish—“with a hipster parent meet-up behind us and you telling me you have a secret baby.”
“Yeah, it’s complicated, which is why I called you.”
“What kind of help am I?”
“Just…talk me through it.” I clasp my glass tighter. “Help me understand why a girl showed up at my doorstep saying there was a baby waiting for me in Florida.”
“Wait, Florida? Slow down. I’m not awake enough for this shit.”
So, I tell him. He contemplatively chews on his nachos, hanging on to every word. From the minute Carter said, you have a daughter, to the mom being dead.
“Dead?” Ben cuts in. “How?”
“Cancer.”
“Oh.” Ben leans back, brushing his hands together. “How are you coping with that?”
I ignore his question and say instead, “So, now there’s a kid who’ll be an orphan if not for me. And this girl…shit, Ben.” I pause for another swig, then swipe at my mouth. “You shoulda seen her. Hair all over the place. Eyes on fire. A mouth that honestly had me thinking, how can I not remember those lips? Angry, though. Really, really mad. If she could’ve stabbed me with her eyeballs, she would’ve.”
“Woulda paid to see that.”
“She beaned me with a can of coke.”
“Uh-huh,” Ben says.
“It was mostly full.”
Ben cracks a smile. “Sounds like a regular Saturday morning for you, eh, bud? Sorry, bad joke.”
I don’t have the energy to knock his teeth out.
“So clearly you haven’t slept with—what’s her name?” Ben pauses. “Or maybe you have.”
“Carter.” I shake my head. “And like I said, I’d remember this girl. It wasn’t only her words that were unforgettable.”
“And those words, they’ll change your life.”
I slump my shoulders over the bar. “What do I do, here?”
Ben chooses his next sentences carefully. “This baby shares your blood, man. It doesn’t mean she has to share your family.”
I lick my lips, gnaw on a loose, dry flake. Then I pull out my phone and swipe until I find the picture, the one I sent to myself when I had Carter’s phone. She didn’t know, will likely be pissed when she figures it out, but as soon as I saw it, I knew I had to have it. I slide the phone over to Ben.
“Well, shit,” Ben says while rubbing at his mouth. He doesn’t take his attention off the picture of the little girl, happy for the camera like she’d just been in the middle of squealing and giggling. “That’ll get a testicle to drop.”
“I know.” I’m looking at the picture, too. “She has my eyes.”
Ben seems to shake himself out of it, because he palms my phone, covering the picture. “Stay smart, man. You need DNA first, before getting any paternal feelings.”
“I got that. Carter said people would be contacting me. Government types. That there’s some sort of verification process before this baby gets to me.”
Ben lets out a long, hard breath. “This is so fucked up. Are you saying you want this? This baby girl to live with you?”