Page 91 of Double Daddies
Wait… is that him?
The second a tall, broad-shouldered man saunters by on the sidewalk, he’s got my attention. I quickly check the photo pulled up on my laptop, matching the dark hair, the height and weight.
Yep. It’s definitely him.
I didn’t think Cami would be into pretty boys.
My eyebrows practically raise to my hairline. Objectively, he’s the kind of guy girls fall for with his dark hair, broad shoulders, and strong jawline. Something about Ryle Whitney oozes wealth—the way he walks, the way he carries himself. I’m a cop with a dream to make detective—I’ve gotten really good at reading people.
Also, he’s wearing a five-thousand-dollar Ralph Lauren suit just to get coffee, so there’s that.
Before I even know what I’m going to do, I’m throwing the door open and stepping out onto the sidewalk. There’s snow on the roads today, and the car door scrapes on the ice, nearly getting stuck. I slam it closed impatiently, looking up just in time to see him disappear into Kostas Coffee.
I shove my hands into my pockets and take my time walking around the car and down the sidewalk. I still can’t believe I’m in this mess. I know that no matter what, I’ll be standing by my girl, but it doesn’t make the situation suck any less.
I love Camille Rodgers more than I’ve ever loved anything. It may not be manly to admit my affection for her trumps my die-hard, life-long obsession with the Bears, but it’s true. And it’s been like that since the day I met her—a head-over-heels kind of love that grows deeper and more complex with each passing day.
It doesn’t feel like I expected it to. The way people talk about it, being in love is like losing your mind. But I’ve never felt more sane—more rational. Loving Cami feels natural, and empowering. She didn’t make mewantto be a better person. When I’d given myself over to loving her, I’d realized Icouldbe one.
And I’ve spent every day since giving my all to being the man she deserves. If I’m keeping score, I’ve only made one misstep, and that was about six weeks ago when I told my father I was going to propose.
“You’re barely out of college, son,” he’d scoffed. “You just finished the police academy.”
“Come on, Dad, I graduated two years ago?—”
He’d waved my correction away. “I’m just saying you’re young. Maybe you ought to give it some time. Aren’t you the only serious boyfriend she’s ever had?”
“Yeah,” I’d reluctantly admitted.
“You both need to explore a little. See what else is out there.”
And like an idiot, I’d listened. It had only taken me two days to realize I’d made a huge mistake, but I’d been a day too late.
I don’t blame Cami. How can I? I was the one stupid enough to take advice from a man with three ex-wives on his ledger. A man who’s paying so much alimony, he can barely afford beer and cigars. He’s bitter, and I’d let him get in my head. It’s all my fault, and I’ll be grateful if she allows me to spend the rest of my life making it up to her.
But now there’s a factor we didn’t plan on.
It might not be a factor,I remind myself, but my jaw tightens anyway. I’d meant every word I’d said to her—no matter the parentage, this baby will be ours. I don’t care about trifling things like DNA. Who knows better than I do that it’s not all it’s cracked up to be?
But still, if there’s even a bit of a chance, then I need to know more about this guy. I have to know if he’ll cause problems for us down the road.
I slip into the coffee shop and join the short line. There are two patrons between us, giving a comfortable buffer for me to observe without his noticing. He has his arms crossed casually, and out of the corner of my eye, I see the gleam of a gold watch on his wrist.
Ryle is now next in line, and my ears perk up as he begins to place his order. “Skinny latte with a half-pump of vanilla-almond milk, please.”
I wince. I know it’s 2025, but a guy ordering a skinny latte just reeks of pretentiousness.
“I’m sorry, sir, we’re actually out of almond milk. We do have cashew milk. Will that work?”
“I’m allergic to cashews,” Ryle replies, his voice taking on a scolding tone.
“Oh, I’m sorry about that.” The cashier clearly is drawn into a spell Ryle seems to have cast. “What about oat milk?”
He sighs. “I suppose that’ll have to do.”
I roll my eyes.Seriously, guy?
I don’t know what makes me feel more uncomfortable—the fact that another man might be the father of my girlfriend’s baby, or the fact that it’sthisguy.
