Page 44 of It Happened In Paris

“Paris, I’m giving you my kidney, but there’s something else: I’m your real father. I have been since the day you were born.” I paused, waiting for her response.

She blinked once, then again, her small hands falling silent on her lap. “But I have a daddy. He’s in Paris.” She could have twisted a knife into me, it hurt to hear.

“We thought Adrien was your father for a long time, but the doctors discovered he wasn’t,” Vivian explained, her fingers curling around the edge of the blanket.

For a moment, silence hung in the air as I waited for her reaction. “Is that why he doesn’t like to see me?”

Vivian made a soft, broken sound and covered her mouth, as if holding back tears. Paris must have picked up on how things were more than we realized.

I took over. “Adrien was simply busy all the time and lived far away from you, so it wasn’t easy for him to spend time with you. But now that the doctors confirmed that I’m your real father, You’re my daughter, Paris. I’m here and I’ll make time for you every day.”

Paris looked at me, head tilted in confusion. “You’re my real daddy?”

“Yes, I am, sweetheart,” I said, my voice pensive.

Then her face lit up with a bright, infectious grin that filled my heart and soul. “I’m glad it’s you. You’re so fun. I was already pretending you were my daddy in my head.”

I pressed a hand against my heart, leaned forward, and kissed the crown of her head, my lips lingering against her soft curls.

“Now you don’t have to pretend anymore,” I whispered.

“So I can call you my daddy?”

“Yes, sweetheart. May I have a hug?”

She climbed out of bed and wrapped her arms around me. “Mommy needs to hug us too.”

“Absolutely,” I pulled her in with us, and in that moment, I knew that no matter what lay ahead—surgery, pain, healing, or happiness—we had already won.

Our bond would always find a way. Father. Daughter. Mother.

I finally pickedup the phone and called Miriam. When she answered, I launched right in. “Mother, I have news. Turns out I have a?—”

“Richard, darling, perfect timing. I have Patricia Mason on the other line. Hold please and I’ll have my assistant connect our calls together.”

“No, Mother don’t—” A frustrated sigh released from me hearing her click away. I pinched the bridge of my nose.

Rex heard it all as I had her on speaker, and he chortled sitting by the window. Thankfully I made this call from his and Chelsea’s room at the hotel, while the women hung back at the hospital, playing with Paris.

“Since when has Patricia become involved in this?” Rex arched an eyebrow at the mention of the matchmaker. Miriam had threatened us both with the idea of using her at one time or another over the past few years.

“I blame you for being the perfect son, getting married and having a million dollar wedding. My jealousy came out, okay? I told Miriam at yoursecondnuptials in Holly Creek I’d be willing to try.” I flipped him off for good measure, and he continued to snicker about it. “Of course now I don’t need help. I have a daughter.”

“You have a what?!” Miriam shrieked into the phone. I gasped.

“Oh, shit,” Rex doubled over, snorting, laughing, covering his mouth with his hand. I threw the nearest thing at him—apillow—lucky for him it was a soft object. He used it to muffle his guffaws.

“Uh, Mother… I didn’t realize you were still on the line. Are we patched in to Patricia?” I asked.

“Hello, Richard. I’m here. Having a daughter is a new development. Shall I change your profile status on our database to single father?” Patricia’s Northeastern elite accent elocution formed perfectly around each word, as she clued in quickly to the situation.

“Yes—er, no. I don’t actually need a profile anymore. You see, I’m falling for someone. So… Thanks for your services anyway, Patricia,” I exclaimed.

“Oh. Okay. Well, if your situation changes, reach out. Otherwise, Miriam, congratulations on both your sons finding love. I’ll close out the account and send you my bill. Ta ta for now.” She clicked off the line, leaving absolute dead space behind. I wouldn’t be surprised if Miriam had hung up.

“Mother? Are you there?” I asked.

“I’m trying to understand, Richard. I really am, and very calmly, too. Aren’t I, Mr. Astor?”

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