Page 5 of I Won't Be In On Monday

No, dipshit.

"I'm the dad," I say, letting it out dramatically, like I was Shylock on a stage at the Globe.

"I see.” He pauses. “But you kind of knew that, right?"

"She said I was the dad, but I didn't officially know."

"But didn't you have..."

"Okay, so I did three other blood tests and all of them said I'm the dad. I guess now that I have another test, I have to face it. It’s super official. I’m a father.” A motherfucking father. It should be illegal.

“And that makes you excited, right?"

"Does itsoundlike it makes me excited? Does itsoundlike it makes me ecstatic and over the moon?"

"I mean, I wouldn't say that exactly, but you don’t know just?—"

"What am I going to do? My whole life plan has centered around me being a bachelor for life. Now, I have a kid." I groan loudly. “A seven-year-old kid.”

"Your kid has a name," he says, sarcastically.

"I don't even want to think about the name. Right now, it's anitto me."

"But your daughter is not an it."

"But nothing, Kingston. If I think about the fact that I made a human being that is real, and it’s a little girl, I'm going to have a nervous breakdown."

"Did you have a nervous breakdown when you were having sex?" he says slyly. And I glare into the phone as he chuckles.

"I do not need your jokes right now, Kingston."

"I'm just saying that what's done is done, and now you need to step up as a man and take care of your little girl. By the way, Skye wanted me to tell you that she's open for babysitting anytime you need some help."

“That’s very generous of her. Tell her I said thank you," I say, closing my eyes. "Can she move in with me for a few months and be?—”

“Very funny.” His voice is gruff. “Skye is being generous and sweet, but don’t start getting any ideas.”

“I’m not getting any ideas. Keep your panties on. You know what? I’ve got to go. I'll talk to you later." I hang up before he can say anything else. I jump up and pace back and forth in the office. I stare at the legal files on my desk, the law books on the bookshelf next to the desk, my Harvard undergrad and law school diplomas, and I just shake my head.I'm screwed, I think to myself.I am screwed. I have a little girl.

I pause as I say the words out loud. “I have a little girl.”

My stomach drops.

I have a daughter. I was the last person who should be a father to a little girl. A seven-year-old little girl named Canyon.

Canyon Parker. I lick my dry lips nervously as I think about meeting her.

Will she like me? Will I like her? I know absolutely nothing about kids. Do I need to buy her a bunch of Barbies? Or puppies?

My throat feels raw, and my face is hot. There’s a tenseness in my shoulders that I haven’t felt in years. I run my fingers back and forth across the table, allowing my fingertips to caress the grain of the solid wood.

“You have no more excuses, Remy,” I tell myself as I grab my phone and make the call I’ve been dreading for the last couple of weeks. Perspiration beads up on my forehead as I listen to it ringing. Maybe the number will be disconnected and all of this is a bad dream.

“Hello.” There’s a soft, stilted voice on the other end. “Remington?”

"Hey, Karen," I say and close my eyes. Darkness envelops me, and I can hear the sound of the desktop purring.

"I was wondering when you'd call."

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