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What is this kid’s secret?
“I don’t know how long the meeting will be. Feel free to use my couch if you want to take a nap later,” Nova says, ushering Rowan into the office. “If you need anything, you can contact Rochelle. She’s the OA, uh… office assistant.” Nova turns to me. “He has your phone number too, right?”
I cringe.
A muscle in her cheek jumps. “Adam.”
I feel the weight of her censure, but I’m not ready to give in. At least not in front of Rowan.
Nova sighs, pulls out the index card binder she always has with her and scribbles her number on it.
Stuffing the page into Rowan’s hand, she says, “That’s my personal cell phone. You can call me if you have any issues.”
Rowan doesn’t respond, but he seems touched.
Something tells me that he’ll be calling Nova whether there’s an emergency or not.
* * *
As we leave the office,Nova slants me a scolding look. “What’s going on with you?”
“What?” I ask, lengthening my stride to keep up with her.
“You’re awkward around him.”
“I think we’re doing much better today than yesterday.”
This morning, I took care of breakfast. Two bowls of cereal—one for each of us. There was no explosion of flour and eggs in my kitchen and no need to have a mini-heart-attack about fruits on my light fixtures.
“Adam.”
“Nova.”
She narrows her eyes.
I shake my head. “He’s an unexpected guest who’s claiming to,” I lower my voice so the other employees can’t hear, “be my son. You think it’s that easy to wake up one morning childless and find out I’m a dad a day later? There’s not a ‘dad switch’ I can flip. I don’t even know if Ineedto flip that switch at all.”
“You still don’t think he’s your kid?” She purses her plump lips.
Today, she’s wearing a sharp red lipstick. It would be an understatement to call her mouth a distraction.
I take a moment and deliberate how to answer. The politically correct and acceptable response would be to say that I love the kid and believe he’s mine because I feel it in my heart. But I’ve never been accused of being politically correct or acceptable.
“I need to see it to believe it.”
Nova sighs heavily and turns the bend. “Rather than spend money on a paternity test, you should invest in making that guestroom more kid-friendly.”
“You’re saying he’s definitely mine?” I whisper. “On what grounds?”
“He looks exactly like you, Adam.” She punches a button on the elevator, her body rigid as she waits for the doors to open. “Even his mannerisms are like yours. It’s uncanny.”
The doors open.
Nova stomps in first and I follow her, feeling a flash of annoyance. “Why are you getting angry?”
“I’m not angry.”
I study her stony face. “You’re annoyed then.”
