Page 7 of His Long-Lost Baby
Monica’s lips twist. “So you do want to meet him?”
“Yes, but I don’t want him to know about Quinn.” I drop my head into my hands and groan. “And yes, I know how impossible this sounds.”
“Unless…”
I peek up at her through my screen of wavy black hair. “Unless what?”
“What if you got close to James somehow? And then you could ask him health questions and never tell him about Quinn?”
I laugh. “That’s crazy. How would I even get close to him?”
Monica grins. “Maybe you could apply for a job at his company. Get to know him that way.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You want me to work for Quinn’s father?”
Monica shrugs. “If it means getting the information you need for Quinn’s health, then yes. I do.”
I chew on my lip, considering her proposal. It’s risky, but it might be the only way to get what I need without involving James in Quinn’s life.
I twist my fingers and stare out the window.
This is insane. What kind of cans of worms could I be opening up by doing this?
“I can’t.” I shake my head. “It’s too risky. Let’s just forget about this whole thing.” I grab my latte and take a sip.
Monica looks disappointed.
“Fine,” she says, picking up her phone again. “But we’ll have to find another way to get that information.”
We sit in silence for a few moments, both lost in thought. I can’t believe this is happening. All I ever wanted was to be a good mother to Quinn, and now I’m tangled up in this mess with her father.
“There is no other way to get the information,” I grumble.
She frowns sympathetically. “Maybe we could hire someone to break into his doctor’s office and get it.”
I laugh. She always knows how to cheer me up. “No. We’re certainly not doing that, but thank you for the idea. I appreciate it.”
She holds her coffee cup up for cheers. “Anytime.”
As we finish our drinks and walk back to the office, I can’t shake the feeling that Monica is right. I need to find a way to get that information for Quinn’s sake. But how?
CHAPTER3
BILLIE
“Mommy. Mommy!” Quinn grabs my hand and shakes it, and I drop my phone.
“What? What is it?” I stare into her eyes, fear gripping my chest, already halfway off the couch.
Did she hurt herself? Is she having another asthma attack?
“The show is over.” She points at the television, where the credits are rolling on her favorite cartoon.
“Oh.” I blink at the TV, my eyes having trouble adjusting from staring at my phone for… well, how long, I’m not really sure. Long enough that I missed a whole TV episode.
You would think one or two pictures of James Garris would be enough. But nope. Not at all.
Apparently I needed to go down a whole rabbit hole of them. Needed to get lost in endless pages full of his blue eyes, rich brown hair, and big smile.