Page 67 of A Major Puck Up

That sends a bolt of annoyance through me. They couldn’t even wait for me to get to the door before running off? With a huff, I shake my head and turn to the floor in front of me to see what the latest delivery will be.

What I don’t expect, what I don’t think anyone could ever really prepare for, is to come face to face with a baby. It’s wrapped up tight in a big peach contraption—a jacket maybe?—and strapped into a car seat.

My heart stops. For a beat, I just look at her, then I holler at Sara over my shoulder. “Sar, seriously!”

Heart pounding, I catalog the child. While my brother and Liv just had twins, there’s no way this is one of them. June and Maggie are a month old, and they’re still tiny. This little girl is all round cheeks. They’re tinged pink from the cold, as is her button nose. The hair that peeks out from beneath her hood is dark. Definitely not one of the twins. They barely have any hair. Poor girls are bald little things that Finn says look like aliens.

They do, sort of.

My mind is a mess of questions. Who is this child? Why is she here? Where are her parents? But an arm on my shoulder forces me to focus.

“Aw, it’s a baby!” Sara coos, leaning forward.

“I see that. Why in the hell would you have a baby delivered to my apartment? Your kinks are getting out of control,” I growl.

Fuck, I’m not a growler. I’ve totally become my brother.

Sara’s eyes bug out, and she chokes on a laugh. “I did not deliver this beautiful little girl to you.” Seemingly unbothered by my anger, she bends at the waist and scoops the baby up, car seat and all.

The little thing doesn’t so much as make a sound. She just blinks her big brown eyes at Sara like she’s not sure what to make of the situation.

“Aren’t you beautiful, and what a good little girl too,” Sara happily chatters with the baby while she pulls her out of the car seat.

Me? I’m ready to lose my mind. This prank has gone way too far.

For the first time, I realize Brooks is here too. He scoots past Sara, picks up a diaper bag from the hallway floor, and pulls at the card that’s sticking out. “Looks like there’s a note.”

“Well, fucking open it,” I demand.

“Gavin, has Finn taught you nothing?” Sara chides.She turns to Brooks and arches a brow. “What he means is ducking open it.”

I let out an annoyed breath. “Ducking A.”

Brooks slides the card out, and his eyes go comically wide as he reads it to himself.

“Out loud,” I grumble.

Brooks pushes it toward me. “No way am I being the bearer of that news. Read it yourself.”

“This family and their inability to talk. Fine, I’ll do it. Coach,” I start, pointing to myself. “Guess that’s me. I can’t do this. I know you said it’s over and we couldn’t be more—but she’s more.” My heart stumbles, making it hard to speak, but I power through anyway. “Too much for me. Meet Viviane, your daughter. You have more than enough resources to help her. So keep her or put her up for adoption. Either way, I can’t do this.”

Keep her. My daughter. Can’t do this.

The words are all a jumbled mess, but as they swirl through my mind, all the air escapes my lungs. When they form a coherent thought, I suck in a harsh breath.

The letter falls to the floor as a drum pounds loudly in my ears.

I think it’s my heart.

“Gavin,” Sara says softly, almost nervously, like I maybe look the way I feel.

I swallow down my shock. Swallow down my anger. Swallow down the complete and utter sense of loss washing over me. Then I do what any person would do. I look at the little girl in Sara’s arms and I take a deep breath, knowing this is bigger than me.

Knowing that every moment in my life is insignificant in comparison to this one, I push away the confusion and the hurt and reach for the little girl, needing to hold her. Needing to know she’s real. Just, quite frankly, needing her.

This stranger. This piece of me I didn’t know existed until this moment.

“Viviane,” Isay softly,swiping my thumb gently against the fabric of her peach outfit. My mind is at war with my heart, because what are the fucking chances…? “Hi, baby girl. I—” I clear the emotion from my throat. “I’m your—dad.”

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