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My office phone buzzed.
“Hold on. Yes, Marge?”
“Ms. Monroe, there is someone here to see you.”
Frowning, I looked at my calendar and then at the phone. Why in the world was she calling me Ms. Monroe? Unless the person here to see me was standing in front of her, which wouldn’t be the case unless it was an employee.
“Do they have an appointment?” I asked.
“I really want to hear you moan out my name. Go to your bathroom. There’s no cameras there, right?”
I giggled and hushed Tucker.
“No, they do not.”
“Well, Marge I’m busy right now, have them make an appointment and I’ll …”
The phone beeped, indicating Marge took it off speaker. Balancing my cell phone in one hand, I picked up the desk phone. Before I could even speak, Marge was talking.
“Charlie,” she said in a hushed voice. “I really think you need to see this young woman.”
Young woman?
“Why?”
“Why, what?” Tucker asked.
“No, I’m talking to Marge. Hold on, Tucker.”
Marge was silent for a moment before she started talking in an even quieter voi
ce.
“Because she introduced herself as the mother of Tucker Middleton’s daughter and demanded to see you. Security called me, and I told them to have her come up before she made a scene.”
My entire body tensed. Had I just heard her right?
“Did you say—?” I asked, my voice trailing off.
“Yes. She is here with a little girl, and she is saying Tucker is the father.”
The entire room felt like the air had been sucked out of it. I fought to breathe. Fought to keep down the bile that was now in the base of my throat.
“Give me … give me three minutes before you send her in.”
“Just three?” Marge asked.
“Yes. Three.”
Hanging up the phone, I pulled my cell phone out and stared at the picture of Tucker that popped up on the screen.
“Charlie? What’s wrong, Pumpkin?”
I swallowed hard, glancing at my watch. “There’s … um … there’s a woman here claiming to be the mother of your … child.”
Tucker laughed but soon realized I was serious.
“What in the fuck? I don’t have any kids, Charlie, you know that.”
