Page 7 of Who's Your Daddy
I stay where I am, running my hands through my hair. It takes a fuck ton of control to remain calm. I’m not an idiot—even if I’d rather play one right now. In a matter of seconds, I’ll have to accept the fact that my life has just irrevocably changed.
When I’m certain I can’t deny the truth any longer, I drop my hands. “I’m a father,” I rasp.
My throat constricts violently.
Okay, that kind of hurt. Let’s try it again.
“I’m a father.” The words are a little bit firmer this time.
I clear my throat. “Okay.”
They’re still talking, ignoring me, though they do peer over at me every few seconds, matching annoyed expressions on their faces.
“Hello,” I say louder.
They’re still ignoring me.
“Gentlemen, please!”
That gets their attention. Both men straighten and blink at me.
“Did you just call us gentlemen?” If I thought he had it in him, I’d swear Sully almost smirks.
I shake my head. “Better than the wankers you’re acting like.”
“We’re the wankers?” My brother says, a hint of amusement in his tone.
Shit. As terrifying as the conversation is, as hard as it’s become to breathe with the truth pressing down on me, I’m determined to continue it. I haven’t seen my brother smile in months, and if this is what it takes, then so be it.
Sucking in a ragged breath, I nod. “Talktome, not about me.”
Brian motions to the pair of chairs on the other side of his desk. “Take a seat and we’ll tell you how this is going to go.”
Chapter 3
Lola
“Am I staying in here while you go deal with the dad mess?” Murphy looks around my office, eyes wide. His lips are tinged blue from the Slurpee. The resemblance to his father is uncanny, but unlike Cal, this kid is sharp as a tack.
“It’s not a mess,” I assure him.
There’s a good chance that’s a lie. This could be the mess to end all messes. I have no idea how Cal will react when he finds out he has a six-year-old.
Murphy turns away from the bookcases he was inspecting and cocks his little brow. Although he doesn’t say a word, theI’m not stupidis telegraphed clearly.
“We’re just trying to get everything squared away,” I say. “There is no issue.”
“Unless you consider that my dad is an idiot.” Murphy sighs, his little shoulders deflating.
God, this kid is far too perceptive.
“I wouldn’t say that.” Lies. I’ve called Cal an idiot more times than I can count. But this poor kid has been through more emotional turmoil than anyone should have to deal with. I don’t want to add to it. “It’s more like he looks at the world with childlike wonder.”
Murphy’s lips pull into a tight line. “So he’s slow.”
As if it has a mind of its own, my chin dips. I catch it quickly and shake my head instead. “No. How about you relax on the couch while I figure out the plan?”
“Fine.” He drops his blue backpack on the hardwood floor with a thunk and settles onto the cushions. With his half-empty Slurpee cup balanced next to him, he digs a tablet from the bag. “What’s the Wi-Fi password?”
