Page 28 of Unrivaled

Grayson chuckles and glances at me.

I give him another tight smile and pull the door closed behind me, making sure it’s latched. “Let’s get outside first.”

“Yay!” cheers Ben as he takes off running for the door.

“Walk, please!” I remind him, but it makes no difference, because he’s already holding onto the door and jumping up and down in anticipation of swinging all the way to the car again.

I should probably be grateful that Grayson wants a good relationship with his son. But more than anything, I’m mad that he couldn’t just leave us alone. That Jackson couldn’t keep his suspicions to himself. That Grayson couldn’t just be the deadbeat asshole he’s been for the last four years. That he has to give me hope and a glimpse of how life might’ve been if he’d gotten my messages.

Because I don’t know how I’m going to handle having this hot guy who I’ve hated for years in my life all the time, making my son giddy with excitement at the sight of him. And if Gray starts showing up for pickup daily, people are going to think things. Ask questions.

I know Ben’s going to mention “Mommy’s friend” to his grandparents soon—because what three-year-old knows how to keep a secret?—and I’ll be fielding more questions than I’m ready for far too soon.

I think I’m going to puke.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Gray

My breath catches when I check my phone and see the email that the results of the paternity tests are available.

“Everything alright?” Mom asks, setting the dish of mixed veggies on the table next to me so I can serve myself some.

I jerk my head in her direction. “Yeah. Fine. Great.”Because that was super convincing.After scooping a serving of vegetables onto my plate, I pass the bowl to Piper, who’s also staring at me with her brows furrowed. Clearly I’m doing a shit job of covering my distraction and anxiety about the test results.

It’s silly. I know they’re going to come back that I’m the father. I mean, I’m 99.99% sure. But still. This is confirmation.

“We don’t usually have phones out at dinner,” she grumbles.

Because I’m still on my sister’s shit list, she takes any and every opportunity to make me feel like an ass. Which, I sorta did the same thing to her not that long ago—or at least that’s how she sees it—so it’s to be expected.

Right now I’m really fucking tired of it, but I’m not going to get into it with her at Thursday dinner with our parents. Especially not with Cal McAdam sitting next to her and glaring at me. I’ve put up with his presence at these things and in my sister’s life because he really does seem to care about her even if he still hates my guts. I think our animosity is reflexive more than anything at this point. But that’s another thing I’m not bringing up at Thursday dinner.

Pulling my napkin out of my lap, I set it on the table next to my plate. “Sorry.” I scoot my chair back and stand. “I’ll be right back.”

Without waiting for a response, I leave the dining room and head for the stairs, taking them two at a time and heading for my old bedroom. I need to see the test resultsnow. I’m not waiting until after dinner. And unless I want to spill the beans right now, I need to look at them in private. Because Piper would bitch at me for having my phone out at the table again, and the only way to shut her up would be to tell the truth, and I’m not ready for that. Not right now. Not when I don’t know for sure. And not at Thursday dinner.

Opening the email app, I tap on the link, put in my login information, and stare at the screen while the little circle goes around and around.

It’s a match.

I blink at the screen and read it again a few more times to make sure I’m not missing something or misunderstanding something.

But I’m not. I read it right the first time.

It’s a match. I’m a match.

Ben’s my son.

Holy shit.

My phone slips from numb fingers.

It’s one thing to think it’s possible, likely even. It’s another to have it written out in black and white in front of my face.

Covering my mouth with my hand, I suck in a deep breath, not sure if I’m holding back laughter, shouting, or tears.

I have a son. A three-year-old son. Who I’ve seen twice in his entire life.

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