Page 112 of Who's Your Daddy?

“Sure thing, warden.”

I take Ambrose upstairs to give him a quick wash and change and stumble into the weirdest conversation when I return to the kitchen a few minutes later.

“So, you’re saying that I can’t hang out with you guys anymore?” Scott asks.

“Yeah,” Dylan replies. “I’m sorry, but you just can’t be part of our club. Access denied.”

“And what exactly would I need to do to be part of the club?”

“Well, you’d have to care for and raise a child who’s not biologically yours.”

I chuckle, grab a dish towel, and fling it at him. “You’re an asshole.”

“I speak the truth.”

“Cat doesn’t want to have kids for at least another three years,” Scott counters. “So, can I at least get a temporary pass? I adopted a puppy last year, and that’s gotta count for something.”

They debate this point as we drive across town to pick up Keith. With the addition of our two young boys to our crew, we had to adapt our tradition for every second Saturday. We now leave them with Mrs. Diaz while we play a few games of basketball, and she’s all too happy to have a house full of kids again. Scott’s dad meets us at the courts, and we spend most of the morning shooting hoops.

After lunch at Keith’s house, we come back to my place, load the boys into their strollers, and push them down to the park. It’s a perfect afternoon, typical late August weather – warm with a cool breeze hitting my face.

Never in my wildest dreams did I ever picture a scenario quite like this. Not once did I ever imagine that I’d be having playdates and pushing around a fricken stroller. But this is my life now, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

We enjoy a relaxing Saturday at the park. Well, Scott and I do. Dylan doesn’t rest for a minute. He’s playing catch and rough tumbling with Neymar on the grass. This kid has unlimited energy, and I already start mentally preparing myself because Ambrose will get to that level soon enough. He hasn’t started crawling yet, but everyone keeps telling me that the real work will begin once he’s mobile.

Once we’ve tired the kids out, we head back to my place. Dylan loads a sleeping Neymar in his car then heads out. As soon as we walk back into the house, I notice that he’s left Neymar’s diaper bag, so he’ll probably be back later or tomorrow to get it. Scott stays for beer but leaves half an hour later because he has a date night planned. I grab another beer before curling up with Ambrose on the couch to watchRocky.

“This is one of my all-time favorite movies, so over the next few days, we’re gonna watch every Rocky movie,” I say, nestling him in the crook of my arm until he’s comfortable. “This movie is legendary. It was the first sports movie to ever win an Oscar, and Stallone is pure gold in this one. You gotta see it for yourself.”

We watch the movie together, but he’s beat from earlier and dozes off. Midway through, I hear a knock at the door. Crap! It’s Dylan returning to get the diaper bag, but I’m in the perfect spot, and Ambrose is asleep. I don’t want to move. I should’ve just left it outside because I knew he’d come back for it.

“It’s open,” I call out, trying to keep my voice low.

He knocks again, and I groan my annoyance because I either yell and risk waking up Ambrose or just get up. I opt for the latter, carefully placing him in the rocker before walking to the door.

“Dyl, it’s open,” I snap, yanking the door open.

What I find on my doorstep is not at all what I was expecting. No. It’s notwhoI was expecting. I freeze, literally freeze. My heart screeches to a halt. My breath stops mid-exhale. I just stand there for a moment, trying to process the sight in front of me.

“Lia.” Even my larynx isn’t functioning properly because my voice sounds strained. “What...” I release the breath caught in my air pipes. “What are you doing here?”

“Hi,” she whispers, and the word sounds like it escaped rather than said with intention.

She pulls her lips in and clears her throat. I may be flabbergasted, but she’s a wreck. She doesn’t look like she used to. She’s paler than she was before. Dark rings encircle her eyes, and she looks like she hasn’t slept in weeks. Her hazel eyes once carried so much effervescence and humor, but they seem so lifeless now. Like they’ve witnessed the ugliest parts of hell and lost all hope in the process. A purplish-blue bruise covers her left cheekbone. What the fuck happened to her?

A part of me wonders if her ex did this to her. I feel my blood boiling, my temper spiraling, but I reason with myself to calm down before I fly off the rails. Whatever happened between them is not my business, not my problem.

“What do you want?” I ask, keeping all emotion out of my voice.

“I thought...I could...” She releases a helpless sigh. “I wanted to...to see my baby.”

I’m not surprised to hear that at all. “You’ve been gone for four months, Lia. You can’t just show up like this and expect to—”

“Please. I know I don’t have a right to ask you for anything, but...”

“You damn right, you don’t.”

“I’m begging you to please let me see my son.”

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