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“But Emily’s eyes are blue too,” I state, feeling numb.
“Yeah, but they’re not the same shade,” Dad shakes his head. “Hers are a dark blue, yours are like a Husky dog’s eyes, same as your mother’s. And same as Emily’s daughter.”
It all makes sense, but then again…
“No. She told me the father was some someone else and that her daughter was born premature.”
“Baloney,” Dad snorts. “Her father told me they found out she was pregnant in June.”
My eyes go wide with the realization that dad could be right; all that’s missing is a DNA test. But how can I go about that without coming across as an ass?
A wave of emotions and thoughts flood through me, and just sit there for awhile, burying my head in my hands.
I’m not sure what to believe. But I do know that I don’t want to push Emily away.
I feel like a complete waste of space right now. If the little girl is mine and I totally flaked on Emily, what kind of person does that make me?
How could she ever forgive me?
Could I really be a father?
But no, Emily flat out told me I’m not the father. My dad is just jumping to wild conclusions.
Either way, the best thing for me to do is give Emily time and space and be patient with her.
I exhale the breath I’d been unconsciously holding.
When I finally look at my dad again, he’s meddling with his phone, and soon a notification hits mine.
“Did you send me something?” I ask dully, reaching for my device.
“Yeah, take a look.” He nods. I check it, and it’s a forwarded message with a phone number.
“Whose number is it?” I ask, my thumb hovering over it.
“Emily’s.” His answer makes my eyes widen in surprise.
“You have her permission to call, just don’t abuse it. Now go call your girl, and don’t screw it up. I bet she’s waiting.”
I take my phone and head for the balcony, but the more I look at that text message with her number on it, the more convinced I am that even if Emily wants to hear from me, I’m going to end up ruining everything.
I save her number to my contacts and decide to text her first.
I type and mutter a “Here goes nothing,” under my breath, and then send the message, bracing for the worst.
‘Hey, this is Andrew,’ is what I text her.
No answer comes, but did I really expect one that fast? She is busy with Alissa and her family and her job.
My dad’s now sleeping on the chair with the can of beer in his hand. Holding back a snort at the sight, I go to the mini fridge and grab an energy drink. I head back to the balcony, nestling myself in one of the lounge chairs.
I can’t let what dad said about Emily’s daughter get in my head. Emily already told me who the father is. I need to leave this alone for now.
But what if I am the father?
I open my drink, take a sip, and leave my phone on the side table, only for it to buzz, letting me know I have a text.
And it’s her.
