Page 21 of Upshot

He looks taken aback for a second, but quickly recovers. “Do I need my attorneys?”

I don’t answer. Instead, I pull a piece of paper from my purse and set it on the table.

“This is the information on the lab. They have the DNA reports. You can contact them about verifying the paternity.”

He stares at the paper for a minute before reaching for it. He spends several more minutes reading over it before his gaze meets mine. “Is there a chance it’s not mine?” he finally asks.

“No, but I assume my word isn’t enough. I can assure you, however, that there hasn’t been anyone else since college.”

“Your word is enough for me,” he says quietly. “But,” he adds, straightening his back, “I guess it’ll be necessary to have documentation for the accountants.” Accountants? “There’ll be a trust fund and inheritance to set up.” Oh.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. I need to. This is my first child also.”

“I know that,” I snap. At least, the internet didn’t mention any. I take a deep breath to steady myself. We don’t need to fight. “We’ll be fine, but maybe you can set up a college fund?” This seems like a reasonable concession. I’m still worried he’ll file for custody. “Can we talk about what other plans you have?”

“I don’t want to file for custody, if that’s what you’re worried about. I would never take your baby away unless he’s in jeopardy.” I feel my shoulders finally relax. “I hope we can work out something privately.”

“Yes, that sounds perfect,” I say hurriedly. “He?”

A smile breaks out on his face, giving me a view of those dimples again. “Or she, whichever.”

We smile stupidly at each other. I can’t help it. He’s just so pretty. The potatoes arrive, and we laugh. This is what I remember from that night. Rand was so much fun. He scoops out a mound of appetizer and hands it to me. I remember he was a gentleman also.

“I have an OB appointment next week if you happen to be around. You’re welcome to come.” That sounds like I’m at least trying to get along.

“Really?” He’s way more excited than I thought he’d be. “I’ll make sure I’m there. Just send me where and when.”

We dig into our appetizer. The silence stretches halfway through our entrees until Rand puts his fork down and looks over at me.

“Brontë, I don’t want to make this hard for you. I just want to be a part of my child’s life. And I want us to be the parents this child needs, a united front. I don’t want to be a family that destroys our child because we can’t act like adults.”

He watches closely for my reaction. His eyes say he’s no longer nervous. This is the man that negotiates million-dollar deals. This is the man I followed upstairs for the night five months ago.

* * *

RAND

It’s all got to go, so I might as well start. I swing the sledgehammer into the old counters in the kitchen of my new fixer-upper. I need to blow off some steam after dinner with Brontë.

There’s no doubt she’s terrified I’ll try to take the baby from her. It didn’t help that I sounded like an idiot when she first sat down. There’s just something about her that starts my heart racing. I revert to the awkward teenager inside me. And apparently, the potato’s number one fan.

What she doesn’t know is that I plan on building a life wherever they plan to live. If Dansboro Crossing is their home, then it’s mine too.

I know. Sounds a little drastic for someone with a successful business on the West Coast, but I know I can make this work. People commute all the time and make it work. Right?

My phone rings for the fourth time in as many minutes. I let it go to voicemail for the fourth time. Geneva and Peter have left several messages, wondering what I’m doing. What do I tell them when I don’t even know myself?

I take another swing with the sledge, feeling the satisfying crunch of it hitting Formica. I need to answer that phone soon, but it can wait until tomorrow.

“Hey,” someone calls from the front room. I push my goggles up on top of my head. Reed comes sauntering into the kitchen with a grin on his face. Great, I need another ass chewing about as much as I need a colonoscopy. Actually, I think I’d prefer the colonoscopy. “I thought I’d come see if the rumors are true.”

Reed sets a six-pack of beer on a piece of the remaining counter. Ripping one from the pack, he tosses it at me. I manage to catch it, but drop my sledge on the floor. I guess I won’t be keeping the floor either.

My pissed gaze travels from the shattered tile to Reed. He grins back at me, then guzzles half his first beer.

“No one’s lived here since Old Lady Barrett.” Reed takes a look around the kitchen. “Gonna be a lot of work. Are you sure you’re up to it?” His gaze is serious when it meets mine. I don’t think he’s just asking about the house. I open my beer slowly before answering.

---