Page 31 of Surprise Baby for Mr. Fischer
“I get that you have hang-ups about being a parent. But I’d be the one explaining to our child that you’re willing to give us your money but not your time. I hope you choose to be in the baby’s life, but that’s up to you.”
I stood there like a dumbass, unable to find the words to express the emotions rolling inside of me.
She stared at me and then picked up her purse and left without another word. The soft click of the door hurt worse than if she’d slammed it. Harper was clearly angry at me, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Her strength was apparent, and it made me ache to hold her again. But that same strength would be the reason I never saw her again if I chose to walk away.
Fuck. What was I going to do?
The thought of being part of my child's life made my stomach knot. Yet walking away didn't feel like the right decision either.
I leaned against the front window, staring at the bay and slid my phone out of my back pocket to call Max. The phone rang a few times. I was about to hang up when I heard his voice.
“Linc, hey, man. How’s the new house?”
I stayed silent forgetting what I was about to say.
“Linc, buddy ... you okay?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and blurted out the first words that came to mind. “I fucked up.”
“Okay, give me a second.” I could hear the static sounds of the phone bumping around as Max called out to his wife that he needed to head out for a minute. I heard the creak of his front porch swing and a long sigh. “I’m back. Talk to me.”
A heavy sigh fell from my lips. “Remember that girl I told you about?”
“From that amazing weekend?”
I rubbed a hand across my forehead. “Yup. I found her.”
“I’m guessing by your tone, that’s not a good thing?”
“No, I wouldn’t say that.” I paced the floor in front of the window, needing to move as I processed my thoughts. “I hired her family’s company to help me get rid of the antiques in the place I bought. In the back of my mind, I always hoped she’d be the one to work with me, you know?”
“Sure.” His tone was quiet, almost soothing. I wondered if this was how he spoke to his kids when they were panicked, because there was no doubt he heard the edge to my voice.
“She’s pregnant.” Chills raced through me as I whispered the words.
He let out a long whistle. “You sure it’s yours?”
“Yeah.”
“How the fuck did this happen?” The creaking of the swing sounded louder through the phone. “Did she set you up?”
“Don’t blame her, Max. We used protection. I was the one with the condoms that weekend. It just happened.”
“Is she asking for money, then?”
“No. She doesn’t want my money. She said she won’t take it to ease my conscience.” I threw myself down on the couch and stretched out with one arm behind my head. Damn, this Victorian couch was uncomfortable. “I don’t even think she knows what I’m worth.”
“Then what’s the problem, Linc?”
I closed my eyes. “I can’t be a dad.”
“Why the hell not?”
“I’m not like you, Max.” How could I get him to understand? I was damaged from the time spent with my parents. Anger was still buried inside of me—anger at my parents for not loving me, for playing their manipulative mind games while making me feel like I was a burden to have around, and for the constant lies and half truths.
“What the fuck does that mean?” he spit out.
“You’re an amazing father. I’m not even sure I could be half as good as you.” I’d always known this. Yet saying it out loud, acknowledging that I would probably suck as a parent, made my heart twist painfully.
