Page 16 of The Sacrifice
“Exactly.” I roll my head, popping my neck. “And the mother has left town.”
“What?”
“You heard me, right.” My jaw clenches. “She dropped off the baby and said she was headed to Vegas. Actually, she didn’t even drop her off. She wanted to alert me to her existence on the off-chance I ever needed a medical intervention that she might be of benefit to me. Then, she dropped the bombshell that she was taking her to social services and leaving her.”
“Holy shit, man. That’s harsh.”
“Exactly. No child deserves to be treated like trash.” I march from Hadley’s spot near the sofa to the living room window and open the curtain. I’m too irritated to stand still.
A black bird soars above the electrical line and then lowers to perch on it as the sun sets in the West. “After we establish paternity, I want to sever her parental rights. I don’t want her to change her mind. Or decide she wants me to pay her to keep Hadley. The woman has no business with a child. Any child. Do you have the resources to investigate everything from her financial situation to her criminal history? I don’t want any stone left unturned.”
“Of course.” A screechy sound comes from the line as if he’s adjusting his chair. “Truman Security is a top-notch firm. They’ll unearth things she hasn’t told anyone. They’re that good.”
“Perfect.” For the first time, relief settles over me. I haven’t known Hadley for twenty-four hours, but the thought of her spending another minute with Roxanne leaves my stomach-churning. “I’ll pay whatever I need to. Money is not an issue.”
“I’ll get them on it as soon as I get off the line with the DNA company. They’ll drop off the kit with a courier. You submit the saliva sample for both of you, secure them in vials, and the courier returns it to the company. I’ll ensure the driver is in a non-descript vehicle with no indication of the company they’re employed by. I can’t guarantee the paparazzi won’t get wind of it, but safeguards are in place to reduce the risk of exposure.”
“No. I get it. If someone is watching me, then complete anonymity is impossible. It’s the price I pay for playing sports.” I let the curtain down, and my stomach growls. Food. When was the last time I ate? Last night? God, no wonder I’m starving.
I take a quick peek at Hadley and sigh. She’s perfect. I’ve always wanted a family, but I’ve never found a woman I wanted to spend more than a month with, let alone the rest of my life. And now, the potential for having the wife portion of the family scenario has spiraled into nothingness. I don’t want women coming in and out of my life. Not when I have a baby to take care of.
My parents were a staple in my world. Yes, they rode my ass for being a screw-up, but they were a team, and there was never a question that one day they’d disappear. I won’t settle for anything less than that.
“I’ll get back to you as soon as I have everything set up. Congratulations again.” The phone goes dead in my ear.Congratulations.
Holy hell. I have a daughter.My knees buckle, and I grab the top rail of a kitchen chair.This is crazy.
My gaze travels to the photos on my refrigerator of my niece and nephew. As always, we’re hamming it up. Me just as much as them. Will I be a good dad? I’m a good uncle. The fun guy. The one that takes the kids to the amusement park buys them cotton candy and chili-topped nachos, and rides the Tilt O Whirl until we toss our cookies.
Lord, save me from being a buzzkill like my brother. I yank open the refrigerator.
There’s nothing inside except for take-out and condiments. Leftover cartons of half-eaten Chinese, Mexican, and Italian. I wrinkle my nose. For some reason, I don’t anticipate Mia wanting to eat out of the same container as me.
I march to the pantry and retrieve a package of Ramen. She’s going to hate this.
Chapter Ten
Mia
For several seconds, I stand inside my temporary bedroom with the back of my head resting against the solid wood frame. The space is the essence of minimalism, with only a bed and two dressers. There aren’t any decorations. The curtains match the paint on the walls, and the woodwork makes everything look straight from a before and after project.
But is it the makeover shot of a tacky bedroom that’s turned modern? Or is it a before shot before receiving a splash of personality?
What am I doing? This morning, I woke up to a fresh pot of coffee, my leftover white chocolate chip, raspberry scone, the only one I refused to eat yesterday, and a kitchen in desperate need of organization.
Now, I’m in Jackson’s guest bedroom, ogling him in shorts and trying not to get swept up in baby fever. Because that always leads to a bout of depression.
When my phone rings, I’m grateful for the distraction.Jade.
What do I tell her? My phone rings again. Do I tell her? Do I lie to her? It’s not like I can’t tell her where I am. I’m assuming Jackson doesn’t want his business splashed all over town. But this is Jade. And I haven’t signed a non-disclosure contract.
Oh, screw it. This is Jade. It’s not like I’m calling a journalist and giving an exclusive interview. “Hey.”
“What took you so long?” Jade’s voice comes out in a growl.
“I was busy.”
“What are your plans for tomorrow?”