Page 5 of The Sacrifice
“Andrew.” I rest my hand on his chest. “Let’s hear what she has to say.” I wish I could agree with him, but I’d recognize that birthmark anywhere. The smattering of red dots and blotches will fade as she ages, like mine and my brothers did, until there’s only a hint left. Mine is only visible when I’m playing football. The same mark can be found in my father’s baby photos and my niece and nephew’s pictures.
The corners of her mouth tip upward into a small smile. “I don’t want money or anything like that. I’m not looking for a relationship.” She clasps her hands together and rubs her palms together. “Actually, I’m in one, and that’s why I’m here.”
“Okay, I’m following you so far.”
It can’t be that easy. She didn’t pop in to say, ‘Hi, we had a baby, but I don’t want anything. Have a nice day.’
“The thing is….” She clears her throat. “My boyfriend is moving to Las Vegas, and he doesn’t want kids. I never wanted kids either. It’s not my thing. I’ve tried to bond with her, but I can’t.”
“What the fuck?” Andrew stares at her like she’s growing horns out of her head.
My teeth grind together.Stay rational. Breathe. Stay calm.“What are you planning to do?”
“I wanted you to know about her. Just in case.” She shrugs. “You know. Like if you ever needed an organ donation or something.”
“What?” My hands ball into fists. Is this woman unhinged? Who stops by to show you their baby and offers it as a future medical intervention?
“You know, blood, a kidney, or a liver lobe.” Her eyes flash, and she straightens her shoulders. “I didn’t want your kid, but that doesn’t make me a bad person. I didn’t have an abortion, so that should mean something.” She snatches up the carrier, causing the baby to jostle inside. A small whimper makes me cringe. “I’m moving to Las Vegas whether you approve of it or not.”
“Be careful with her.” I grab her hand and steady the carrier as she stands motionless. She smells like mint mouthwash and cigarette smoke.
“I need to go. I’m headed to social services.” She steps backward but lurches forward when I don’t budge.
“You’re going where?” She can’t be saying what it sounds like she’s saying. There’s no way she’s throwing my baby away and heading to Vegas to strip. Or gamble. Or blow random dudes to give her boyfriend extra spending money.
“I’m taking her to social services and putting her into foster care for adoption.”
With my free hand, I grab the other side of the handle and remove her fingers from the carrier. “You aren’t taking her anywhere. She belongs with me.”
“Whoa.” Andrew tugs on my arm, spinning me to face him. “What are you doing? You don’t even know if this kid is yours. You don’t know what game she’s playing. You need to call your attorney and let him work this out.”
“No.” My chest tightens. Not that I won’t call my attorney. He’s the first person I’m calling after this person leaves my home. “Once a child is in foster care, you must fight tooth and nail to get them back out. I’ll let my attorney deal with it, only after she’s settled in here.”
Settled in here? Did I say those words? My heart skips a beat as my gut churns. I love my niece and nephew, but I never watched them overnight. Hell, I’m the happy-go-lucky uncle who takes them for ice cream and spins them on the merry-go-round until they see stars. Not the uncle who cuts the crust off the PB & J’s. I don’t know the first thing about keeping a baby alive.
“Thanks. That’s great.” She digs into her purse and hands me a piece of paper. “Here’s her birth certificate.”
I clutch the embossed page scanning the contents. Hadley Marie Torres. Father: Jackson Rhodes. 6 pounds and 4 ounces. 20” long. My parents are going to freak the fuck out.
The door snaps open.She’s leaving.“How can I–”
The door snaps closed. Well, there was that. My breath comes out in ragged pants as reality sets in. I’m a father with a three-month-old baby girl.
“What are you thinking?” Andrew snatches the birth certificate out of my hand and scans it as I fall onto the sofa with the carrier at my feet.
“I’m thinking my dick needs to make better choices.”
“Then, you remember screwing her?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Hadley’s hands clench and unclench as she shifts inside of her cocoon. “I don’t remember the details, but I remember walking into the bathroom stall with her at Callahan’s Bar, screwing her, throwing up….”
I pause as the night shifts into focus. She was wearing a black T-shirt. What did it have on it? Right… The name of the bar. I wrinkle my nose. When I tossed my cookies, she gagged in the toilet. Yeah, not a stellar night. “And I woke up the next morning with a raging headache.”
He drops the paper on the end table and braces his hands on his hips. “Just because you fucked her doesn’t mean this kid is yours. A piece of paper without DNA testing doesn’t mean anything. I’ve seen Roxanne around. She screws everyone. You’ve got to call your attorney to take care of this.”
I glance up and smirk. “You think he’s going to feed her and change her diaper.”
“No.” He rolls his eyes.