Page 20 of It Happened In Paris

I added nervously, “He mentioned his blood type might be O positive.”

He eyed me skeptically. “Are you sure?”

“I’ll push him to get the tests done so we know for certain.” I wasn’t expecting Adrien to follow through, though.

Before more could be said, a nurse called the doctor from across the hall. Over his shoulder, he hurried away, adding, “Yes, get the tests. Mr. Bardeaux must be mistaken—there’s no way a father with O positive and a mother with your blood type could have produced a child with Paris’s blood type.”

Richard and I exchanged stunned looks. “Uh… did he just say…?” Richard shook his head, trying to comprehend it all.

I quickly reassured him, “No. No, that can’t be. Of course she’s Adrien’s. I’m sure he just forgot his blood type is all.”

As Paris woke and called for Richard, he returned to her, and I watched her tiny hand slip into his. She had him wrapped around her little finger, and he was equally enchanted by her.

“Have you been on a safari?” she asked, rubbing her tired eyes.

“Why yes, two years ago,” he replied with a smile, softly launching into another story about his adventures. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes—of course, Richard had been on one.

Yet, I was more grateful than ever for his presence. He was calm and kind with Paris, holding her attention and shielding her from worries over needles and tests.

Without him, I’d have had her glued to my phone, playing games or watching videos while I agonized over everything. Richard made this ordeal bearable. I’d thank Chelsea and Rex for sending him my way.

I would thank Richard too—somehow. Would cupcakes be enough as repayment for all he’d done? Or… would he take me?

I shook my head, not thinking clearly as I observed my daughter with him. What if the doctor was right about her paternity? With a sinking feeling, I remembered the moment I told Adrien I was pregnant, so sure at the time that the baby was his. Besides, the night I spent with Richard, we had used condoms—even though I wasn’t on the pill then, struggling to access medication abroad.

The timing between my night with Richard and my reunion with Adrien was so close. I had clung to the hope that the baby was Adrien’s—the man I believed I loved and had forgiven for his past behavior. But what if I was wrong and the baby was Richard’s?

What if all that wasted time, all the heartbreak over Adrien, meant that poor Paris spent six years not knowing her true father?

No. It couldn’t be? I almost blurted out my doubts, but I kept them in. Stepping out of the room again, I called Adrien once more.

After getting no response, I wandered down the hall in a daze until I found a quiet little waiting room at the end. I closed the door, switched off the lights, and allowed silent tears to stream down my face—even though what I really needed was a loud, anguished cry.

9

SOLID ROCK

VIVIAN

I locateda bathroom in the corridor and splashed cold water on my face. Puffy eyes from all the crying were the last thing Paris needed to see when I returned to her room—I had to be strong for her. Yet, when I looked in the mirror above the sink, I didn’t see a brave woman staring back.

“I must be the oldest twenty-eight-year-old mother on the planet,” I mumbled with disgust. And this was the image greeting Richard since he arrived?

I hurriedly ran my fingers through my stringy hair, as if brushing it, splashed more cold water, and pinched my cheeks in a vain attempt to bring back some color. There was nothing I could do about the wrinkles creeping up on me, but a cool, damp towel pressed against my eyes somewhat reduced the puffiness and dark circles.

Why did I even bother? It wasn’t like Richard was going to fall head over heels for me. He was here out of duty to his brother, and driven by his passion for supporting children in need, very admirable. All we were to him was his projectdu jour.Once Paris got better, he’d return to his billionaire lifestyle in the city while we went back to our small town.

The reality glared harshly back at me in the mirror—I didn’t have to be on show for him because nothing could come of this. My attraction to him simply manifested as a result of memories from Paris, and easy to dismiss. I grabbed the edge of the counter and inhaled, breathing a little easier. There. No more thoughts of getting together with Richard.

Back to the present, where everything in my life had become overwhelming—what day was it today? I checked my phone and noticed several messages I’d been ignoring—some from delivery drivers whose routine drop-offs of eggs, milk, and other supplies had been thrown off schedule, and others from seasonal staff anxious after showing up for work only to find my shop closed.

I summoned my resolve, put on my proverbial big girl panties, and called to explain the situation to each of them. On a small note of relief, both of my employees had agreed to find other work, though they asked to be contacted if I needed help again when I reopened later in the season because they loved working with me. I’d taken to teaching them the basics of pastry making, and both were eager to continue.

With no clear timeline for returning to baking or reopening the shop, my income was bound to suffer. Thankfully, I had inherited both the shop and the two-story apartment above it after our mother passed away, and Keaton had willingly waived his share so that Paris and I could have a roof over our heads. Surely, once her medical condition improved, I’d eventually reopen my shop, negotiate with my creditors, and somehow manage.

Everything was a mess right now, but I knew it couldn’t last forever.

After ending those calls, I took a minute to regain my composure, until my phone rang with a call from Chelsea.

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