“What are you talking about? What new charity? I can’t live off you. That’s just wrong. I’m not Gwynne. GI Jane might take me back if I beg hard enough, but there’s no way –”
Dean presses his fingers against my lips. “I’ve spoken to Bianca about opening dog rescue chapters across the country. My corporation will fund everything, but I need someone with financial experience to coordinate the project. Hell, we could even make it global. It’s the right thing to do and also amazing PR for me. Oh, and I think we should adopt Wally.”
I’m stunned.
Absolutely stunned.
This has been the weirdest and best day – ever.
“Mia?”
“I freaking love you, Mr. Big Dick,” I shout.
Laughter pours from Dean’s mouth. “I freaking love you, too.”
And I know without a doubt that whatever comes next, we’ll handle it – together.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dean
My first workdayback in New York won’t be productive, at least from a business perspective. But I don’t care. The two meetings I have scheduled this morning are the most important ones I’ve had all year.
The first is with my dad.
And given how personal this conversation is going to be, we’re meeting at my place because we certainly don’t need an audience.
Mia is still in bed and the woman could sleep through a tornado, so I don’t have any concerns about disturbing her. I offered to let her join us, but she thought it was best that I had both of my conversations today alone.
I appreciate that she knows what I need even when I don’t.
And no matter what the paternity results show, the tired man seated on the couch beside me will always be my dad.
He’s the one who sacrificed so I could attend two Ivy League colleges.
He’s the one who believed in me when no one else did.
He’s the reason I had the confidence to create and sell a company when I was just a kid.
He’s the one I’ve looked up to my whole life.
Mia is right – Dexter Senior will never take any of that away.
“Dad.”
The word makes him close his eyes, and I hate that he’s in pain. His brown eyes look nothing like mine. His red hair is mostly grey, and while he isn’t a small man, he’s six inches shorter than me. He’s also lean and lanky whereas I’m broad and solid.
I never really thought about it before. I just assumed my coloring came from my mother, who always joked that she had no idea why I was so tall.
But she did know.
She fucking knew.
He rests his hand on my forearm. “My son. You always will be. We both know what those results are going to show. But they don’t matter. Not to me.”
I’m a man who needs every piece of the puzzle, and it goes against my grain not to seek out all of the facts. But maybe, in this case, he’s right and it doesn’t matter. I’m not a little kid, and nothing in my life will change.
“Do you want me to find out?” I ask softly.