Page 29 of Unrivaled

Holy fucking shit.

I have a son.

And his mother hates my guts.

* * *

I manage to make it through dinner with minimal awkwardness, brushing off the concerned looks by saying a friend had a health scare, but the tests all came back fine and they wanted me to know.

Of course that piqued Cal’s interest, and I had to lie my ass off and say it was someone from Ohio. Since I was lying my ass off anyway, who cares, right?

But I’m vibrating with suppressed emotion as I walk into my apartment, pulling my phone out of my coat pocket and staring at it. Should I call Tiffany? Text her? What’s the protocol for informing your son’s mother that you’re the father? Does this happen often enough for there to be a protocol?

My thumb hovers over her name for a long time, but in the end I sigh and decide to text her. Probably most people would recommend a phone call, or better yet, an in-person meeting. But I know that she won’t want either of those options, and trying to push it will just piss her off more.

She already resents having me around at all, though she’s going to have to get herself on over that since I’m not going anywhere. I think part of her still believes that I knowingly abandoned her before. I can’t really blame her. It pisses me off, though, because I’d never do that. And with incontrovertible proof in my hands? No way in hell would I abandon them now.

Me: I got the test results today

I take off my coat and unbutton my shirt, stripping off the nicer clothes I wear for dinner at my parents’ house and changing into a pair of sweats to relax in now that I’m home.

Tiffany: And?

I can’t help snorting with amusement at that response. She was certain I was the father when she found out she was pregnant. I can only assume it’s because either there weren’t other possibilities or she’d already ruled them out. There’s no way she doesn’t already know the answer. But I text it to her anyway.

Me: It’s a match. I’m Ben’s father

I stare at my phone, watching the three dots appear and disappear and reappear again.

Tiffany: What now?

What now indeed? I’m not sure how to answer that question, except …

Me: I want to get to know him. I want him to know I’m his dad. I want to be part of his life.

I also want to take care of her, help her however I can, but I don’t know how well she’d respond to that at this point. Given her not-so-thinly veiled animosity toward me the handful of times we’ve spoken, I doubt she’d take it well. So that conversation can wait.

When she doesn’t respond for over ten minutes, I sigh. I don’t get why she’d be hesitant. Isn’t this what she wanted from the beginning? Me to be involved? Otherwise, why even bother attempting to tell me? It’s not my fault that her attempts failed. I didn’t choose to be absent. I didn’t decide to abandon her and my unborn child. And now that I know, I want to do the right thing.

Why is that so terrible?

Clenching my jaw, I type out and send another message.

Me: We need to get together and plan how we’re going to handle this. Pick a location. I’m available tomorrow after five.

Tiffany: Fine

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Tiffany

“Mommy, what’s wrong with your face?”

I tear my gaze from my phone and look down at my son snuggled against me on his bed. He reaches up and squishes my cheeks. “You look funny. What’s wrong?”

Turning my head, I pretend to snarf his fingers, making him giggle and bringing me out of my funk enough to smile. I tuck my phone under my leg again. I’ll deal with Grayson later. The familiar nausea at the thought of dealing with the reality bearing down on me fills my belly again.

“Everything’s fine,” I manage to say in a normal voice. “Pick one more story, and then it’s bedtime, okay?”

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