Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
The ones I had barely just put back on before she barged in here with her atomic bomb.
“Not anymore.”
Laura harrumphs, turning up her nose.
“How do I give you this DNA sample?”
“You can either do a blood test or a cheek swab. Both are very easy and shouldn’t take long.”
“Except the time it’s going to take to haul my ass to the clinic, fight traffic, and wait for the results,” I deadpan, annoyed beyond belief that she’s being so blasé about this whole situation.
“Right, well.” The hands roam her stomach. “Don’t you want to know if you’re the father?”
“I just assumed I wasn’t since you weren’t fucking me, but you were fucking Dwyer.”
She cradles her stomach as if she can muffle my crude words. “Shhh, oh my god, Elias, have some class.”
Oh jesus.
“Send Donna the information of the clinic where you’ve ordered the test, and I’ll get it handled.”
Laura studies me from her spot at the counter. “Aren’t you the least bit excited?”
Is she insane?
Shit, maybe she is.
Am I excited?
She lets herself in with a key I didn’t know she had, tells me I might be the father of a baby I’d only just found out she was having, and expects I might be happy about it?
Call me a dickhead, but… “Time will tell, I guess.”
I go to the couch and sit down, face in the palm of my hands.
“Leave.”
I hear her walk toward me.
“I said leave, Laura. I don’t ever want to see you again.”
“But—”
I lift my head. “Get out.”
“Fine.” Her lips purse, and she grabs her bag. “I’ll be in touch.”
“I’m sure you will.”
twenty-three
molly
“I’m sorry, can you repeat that? Say it in my good ear.”
When I’d gotten home, I thanked God that Posey was there, lying on the couch watching a movie when I’d slammed through the door, tears streaming down my face.
I’d just found a decent, fun, sweet, reliable good guy, and this is the crap that happens? His freaking troll of an ex-girlfriend shows up at his door—no, breaks in!—to tell him he might have a child?
What the WHAT?
“I can’t believe this is happening. This is why I cannot with men, Pose. Cannot.”
“But, Molly, he’s not with her.” My roommate studies me beneath the light above the kitchen island, its warm glow casting a shadow over my sullen expression. “Is he?”
“No. But he’s drama.” My chin tilts defiantly.
“No, his ex is drama—don’t confuse the two.” Posey says it with so much authority that I’m willing to believe it for a moment. “The baby might not even be his, Molly, and even if it is, so what? That doesn’t mean you can’t make it work.” She hesitates, sliding a plate in my direction, thinking everything can be solved with food. “Babies are a blessing.”
“Are you for real right now?”
Posey, sweet Posey, loves everyone and everything and always thinks the best of everyone.
I pick up the Danish and shove a bite in my miserable mouth. Moan from its gooey goodness. “Did you make this?”
“Yes.”
Posey isn’t a professional chef, but she’s one hell of a cook, filling all her recipes with love.
Blah.
“Anyway, as I was saying,” she goes on. “Why couldn’t you make it work even if he has a baby with her?”
“Because.” I pause to think. “Because it’s complicated now.”
She doesn’t look convinced. “And it wasn’t complicated when women were tossing their drinks in your face?”
Yes, but we weren’t dating when women were throwing drinks in my face.
“That’s different.”
“How exactly?”
“Are you being serious?” I ask again. “Throwing a drink on someone is totally different than showing up and being like SURPRISE! THIS MIGHT BE YOUR BABY.” My jazz hands go up, and I wave them around dramatically.
“Might be.” Posey nods. “Laura sounds manipulative. She doesn’t need Eli’s DNA to get a paternity test. She only needed Keith’s to narrow it down. If his DNA comes back not as a match, then she could have contacted Eli. But she didn’t, and do you know why?”
I’m hanging on her every word because damn, she has a valid point.
“Why?”
“Laura is a calculating bitch who knows exactly what she’s doing. You said so yourself—she let herself into his apartment. Why now? Why not two months ago before he was seeing you? She waits until he’s in a relationship with you to reappear?” My roommate snorts. “Please, give me a break. That woman is trying to upset the apple cart.”
Upset the apple cart?
Where does she get these metaphors? 1854?
“Want my advice?” she goes on.
“Sure.”
“See what happens. Wait for Eli to call you, and he will, once his heart stops racing because you damn well know that dude is flipping the fuck out right now, poor thing.”
Poor thing?
What about me?! I’m a poor thing!
I glare at her. “Do not feel bad for him!”
“Why? Some woman comes out of the woodwork telling him she might be pregnant with his baby, after she cheated on him with one of his clients? The man did nothing wrong!”