Page 42 of Sweet on You
14
Lex
The DNA testing was a much faster process than I expected. I went into an exam room in the lab section of the hospital. A busy nurse came in, swabbed my cheek, and was gone before I could even try to make small talk. Voila. Once they received Olivia’s sample, it would take roughly a week to complete the tests and determine paternity.
I stepped out of the room and was shrugging back into my suit jacket when I heard the high-pitched giggle of a baby girl. My blood pressure spiked. My heart slammed into my chest—no, my throat. I could feel my pulse hitting at the base of my jaw.
When I slowly looked up, there was a little girl playing with some of the toys in the waiting room. Her back was to me as she faced a large doll house, and in her left hand, she held a Barbie doll by the ankles, swinging it around.
“Olivia,” An older man sat in a chair beside her, leaning over, his elbows on his knees. He tapped her shoulder and she glanced up at him. I saw her profile for the first time. A cute, button nose that was all Sarah. Blonde hair that was all Sarah again. Teal plastic glasses were perched on her nose.
“Pappap?” she said softly. I gasped at the sound, wanting to close my eyes against the onslaught of tears—except, I couldn’t. I couldn’t break my gaze away from her. Her gorgeous little face. Her perfect little voice. That sweet little giggle.
“We want you to meet someone,” Mr. Murphy said and pointed at me.
Slowly, Olivia turned with a few clumsy steps until she was facing me. Time stood still.
Her nose was all Sarah. Her hair was all Sarah. But those eyes? Those bright turquoise eyes wereme.
She shied away from me at first, stepping back and bumping into her Pappap’s knee. He stood slowly and grunted as though standing was hard enough, without having to add chasing after a baby. Then, he lifted her into his arms and took a few steps toward me.
I met him halfway, walking over to them. “You must be Alexander?” he asked. His voice was gruff and raspy and held slight traces of what I’d grown to know as a New England accent. He held out his free hand which I took, shaking it.
“Yes, sir,” I said. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
He bounced the little girl in his arms. “This is Olivia,” he said.
“Your… daughter,” Mrs. Murphy added coming up beside her husband.
“Linda, we don’t know that for sure, yet,” he said, quietly, as an aside.
“Bob. Look at them. They have the same eyes.”
Mr. Murphy sighed, but looked lovingly upon his wife. “Lots of people have blue eyes.”
I cleared my throat. “I understand your reticence until we get the results back,” I said. “I’m so grateful you’re letting me meet her today, though. More grateful than you’ll ever know.” Dammit. My voice cracked on that last sentence. For Mrs. Murphy, that didn’t seem like something that would matter. But, Mr. Murphy? He seemed far more withdrawn from his emotions. Like the kind of man who valued a tough as nails attitude.
Mr. Murphy nodded, his posture straight as an arrow and he looked strong in spite of his age, with broad shoulders and only the slightest hint of a belly.
Mrs. Murphy took Olivia from her husband’s arms and stepped closer to me. Those big, blue eyes of hers sized me up with wisdom that seemed well beyond her less than a year and a half of life. “Olivia, this is Mommy’s friend.” Mrs. Murphy paused and glanced up at me. “I don’t know how to introduce you,” she said quietly. “Should she call you Lex for now? Until we have confirmation? Or is that going to be confusing?”
I wish I knew. I had read every parenting book I’d gotten my hands on in the last two years, but none of them covered how to handle meeting your child for the first time when she was a toddler. “Lex is fine… I think.”
“She’s fifteen months old, Linda. It’s not going to scar her to call him by his name for one day,” Mr. Murphy said.
Olivia pointed a chubby finger at me. “Mommy’s fend?”
I nodded and smiled at her through my tears, brushing my fingers to my chest. “That’s right. I’m Lex, your mummy’s friend.”
With her other hand, she held out the Barbie to me and I gently took it. “Oh, thank you,” I said, holding Barbie up. She wore a chef’s hat and an apron. “Is Barbie baking today?” I asked.
Olivia nodded.
“Funny at that. I’m a baker, you know. I own a bakery.” Behind us in the waiting area was a fake kitchen with the sort of plastic, toy food I’d seen kids playing with on tv.
“You are?” Mr. Murphy asked, intrigued. “You own your own bakery?”
I nodded. “I do. I’d love for you to come by and see it sometime.”
