Page 7 of The Secret

“Buddy, we’re not leaving you here tonight. This would be a nightmare for any one of us.” He grinned. “I’m just thankful it’s you, not me.”

I laughed as tears of gratitude prickled the backs of my eyes. “Oh thank God. I don’t think I’ve ever loved you more.”

I looked back down at her tiny face as the bottle stopped moving; she’d stopped eating. “Do you think she’s had enough?”

Penn’s face told me he knew about as much as I did. “Dunno, maybe move her around a bit. That’s what my sisters do. Put her on your chest and pat her back.”

I moved her about, gently jostling her tiny body against my chest. I’d watched my sisters and brothers-in-law do this so many times, but it never occurred to me how delicate their kids were when patting them on the back. Jasper and Cooper were not small guys either.

I patted as softly as possible. “Now what?”

He shrugged. “Just hold her there I guess.”

“No, I mean, now what? She has nothing here. I have nothing here for a kid. What’s she going to sleep in tonight? That car seat? I don’t even know what to buy.”

“Do we even know how old she is? She’s new, but what’s her date of birth?” Penn peered up and reached onto the counter for the paperwork which Rafe had been going through.

I gave out a silent prayer to whomever was listening that she’d at least left that. Because not knowing my daughter’s birthday would probably be the most depressing part of it all.

His eyes scanned the page as Rafe’s had. “It was February fourteenth.”

“It’s the twenty fifth today, right?”

He nodded.

“She’s eleven days old?”

“Yep.”

I nodded to one of the papers he was currently holding. “Is that it?”

He passed it over to me, the bubbly round penmanship far too frivolous for the gravity of its contents.

Murray,

This is not a letter I ever expected to have to write, so I’ll just go ahead and say it. She is your daughter. You probably won’t remember me, but we met last Memorial Day in the Hamptons, and she is the result.

I have plans for my life and that doesn’t include a kid. I was five months pregnant when I found out so I couldn’t have an abortion. She was born at home because I couldn’t let it show on my parents’ insurance. I haven’t told my family, but she was checked out and she’s healthy. I’ve looked after her as long as I could, but I don’t want this responsibility.

You can give her a good life, and I know she’s better off with you than with me.

Please don’t try to find me, this is what I want.

Reagan

I tried not to hate this woman I barely remembered. What about what I wanted?

I knew I’d always wanted kids, but not like this. Not by default. This wasn’t how I pictured ever becoming a father.

My throat grew tight again. My heart was pounding in my chest, the air had thinned out and I was struggling to breathe. Then my ears began ringing.

I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t do this by myself.

At that moment a loud burp let out from the smallest member of the group, and I felt warm liquid run down the collar of my shirt.

I needed to call in the cavalry.

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