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“You can’t keep me from my son,” he snarled.
“No, but I can make it very difficult for you.”
His gaze skewered me. “I read Elise’s letter naming me as the dad.”
“How?”
“A friend of mine broke in your place and found it.”
A white-hot heat slashed up my arm. I slammed the door shut, but the frame crashed into his boot. Achille yanked it, the chain straining under his strength.
“I’ll rip this door off.”
The cold grip around my heart squeezed tighter. “You won’t.”
“Your sister kept my son from me. I have every right to kick down this fucking door and take him. But instead, I am asking you to let me inside.”
“The answer is no.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be. Open. The. Door.”
“How do I know you won’t hurt me?”
“I’m not here for that,” he growled. “I just want to collect a sample for the paternity test.”
What am I supposed to do?
My sister’s dying request had begged me to look after Jack. Part of that involved keeping him from the man threatening to break in, but how could I do that? He was Jack’s father. Elise had named him in her letter. Best-case scenario, he’d return with a court order and we’d be ordered to split custody 50/50. Worst case, he’d take my refusal to cooperate personally and hurt me.
“Alright,” I whispered, my insides crumbling. “I’ll allow you to come in under one condition. You’ll do the test, and then you’ll leave. Until you get the results, you stay away from us.”
He nodded. “Fine.”
“Don’t make me regret this.”
“I won’t.”
Sighing, I closed the door to unlatch the chain. Then I opened it again, stepping aside. My heart raced as he entered. Achille’s commanding figure seemed to absorb the light. Moisture sprinkled his messy hair. He swept it into an unkempt mop.
I felt the weight of his bourbon stare. So intense and serious. His eyes hid stories I couldn’t guess. He stepped onto the carpet, following me into the living room.
It was tiny, filled with second-hand furniture. Jack’s colorful drawings papered the walls. Achille’s purposeful strides took him to where Jack played with his Brio trains.
Achille froze, staring at him.
“Jack, honey,” I called out, gesturing at Achille. “This is Achille. He’s my…friend.”
Jack looked up at him.
Achille gave him a small wave. “Hey, kiddo.”
I nudged Jack. “Say hello.”
Jack’s gaze dipped to his toys. “Hi.”
“Am I scaring him?” Achille asked.
“No.” I knelt beside Jack as Achille stood over us, an unmoving sentry. “He’s shy.”
