Page 21 of Dr. Brandt

“How so?” Jackson questioned.

“Our clothes are on their way back to New York with Warren’s shitty mood,” I answered, unable to resist rolling my eyes.

“Damn,” Cameron answered with the same shock any person would in this situation. “Well, it’s a good thing I’ve got an extra bag of clean sweats and stuff in my car. Sometimes I’m on call for seventy-two hours or a week, so it’s necessary. You both can fight over who wears my underwear after I leave.”

“Very funny,” I said. “I saw a store in the lobby. Maybe I’ll check that out.”

“Good idea, and while I’m on my way out, I’ll walk you down,” Cameron offered.

“Thank you.” I smiled at him, my gratitude for Cameron growing by the second.

“I can run down and grab the extra clothes,” Jackson said, his smile and generous personality matching his father’s.

“Why don’t I go get that so I can see what we can borrow of Cameron’s?” I said to Jackson. “I’m also going to check out that clothing shop in the lobby and pray they have underwear, or you and I will be fighting over Cameron’s.” I wanted a moment alone with Cam to tell him how much I appreciated everything he had done since he took my call.

“Okay. I’m going to check out my bedroom while you’re gone. You can have the room closest to the kitchen in this pimp pad. It’s a pleasure to know you, Dr. Brandt,” he said, extending his hand to shake Cam’s.

“The pleasure is mine, Jackson. And call me Cam. Now, enjoy the pimp pad,” he chuckled with a wink.

I’d forgotten how amazing Cam was with kids. He could get on their level and relate to them. Cameron had never behaved like the billionaire’s son he was. That wasn’t the kind of man he was, and I could easily sense that he hadn’t changed. Cam was fun, charming, and genuine, and he had a dynamic personality that made women do anything to get his attention.

Okay, enough of that. All of this is a good reminder of the player who broke up with you, I reminded myself as Cameron and Jackson ended their conversation, and Jackson walked down the hallway to the room he’d chosen.

“So,” Cameron said with a curious expression, his eyes now a deep shade of blue.

“So,” I hung onto the word, unable to resist a bashful smile in response to his look that held me hostage.

“When were you planning on telling me I was a father?”

Chapter Ten

Cameron

There was no doubt in my mind that Jackson was mine. The kid even played the same positions in the same sports that I did once upon a time. Even without comparing our athletic-star qualities, you’d have to be blind not to see the genetic resemblance.

I’m a father.

Jessa hadn’t been able to say a word, even as we walked to the elevator. It wasn’t until the elevator bell dinged and the door opened that she was able to squeak out my name.

“Cam…”

I smiled at her to reassure her I wasn’t pissed. “I have no right to be angry that you never told me, Jessa.” I was cut off when another couple joined us in the elevator.

I glanced over at her as she stared straight ahead. Her cheeks were flushed, and she couldn’t have been more irresistible than she was right now. Her beautiful sky-blue eyes glistened from the tears threatening to spill out. I couldn’t resist reaching for her hand and holding it as we waited for the elevator to take an eternity to bring us to the lobby.

I knew I loved Jessa. All those feelings had been stirring since I saw her again, growing from a simmer to a rapid boil with every passing moment. Seeing Jackson and staring into his eyes—eyes we’d inherited from my father—seemed to have focused my feelings. He was ours.

The elevator reached the lobby, and we exited. We walked through, and I scanned the place, wondering if there was an ideal spot to question a long-lost love about why they decided to keep their son’s birth and entire life a secret. I was guessing there wasn’t.

“The way you’re clenching my hand makes me think that you’re pretty pissed off, and rightfully so,” Jessa echoed through my thoughts, pulling me out of them.

I instantly released my grip around her tiny hand and pulled my shit together. How should I feel about this? Fuck if I knew. I just knew I missed this woman like crazy, had her halfway back in my life, couldn’t stand her fiancé, and wanted to help her son—my son. Our son.

“Truth be told, I don’t know how to feel,” I answered her honestly as the earnestness in her eyes held me captive.

“Most men would be angry if their ex-girlfriend never told them they had a child. Maybe they’d be mad about child support or custody or something.”

I ran a hand through my hair. “Well, I’m not feeling any of those things, so I’m not sure if I’m most men or not.”

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