Riley hums thoughtfully.
“Alright, then here’s my advice.”
I wait.
“Ask for a paternity test.”
“That hadn’t crossed my mind.”
“Not because you think she’s lying,” Riley continues, “but because this is your entire life we’re talking about.”
“That makes sense,” I answer.
“Then, if the kid is yours, you figure out what kind of dad you want to be.”
“What if I’m not ready for that?”
“No one is,” Riley says.
“You were.”
He laughs.
“No, I wasn’t. I was terrified.”
That surprises me.
“You never looked terrified,” I say.
“That’s because there was a tiny human depending on me to pretend I knew what I was doing,” he explains.
I smile faintly.
“But here’s the thing,” he adds. “Once you meet them, it changes everything.”
I replay the conversation in my head before doing anything. Especially the part about slowing down. Which is exactly what I try to do.
Step one: ask Sydney for a paternity test.
Which somehow makes the situation feel even more real.
“Everett.” I turn to see Henry walk across the theater floor.
“You’re staring at that railing as if it has insulted you,” he says.
I huff a quiet laugh.
“I’m just thinking,” I say.
“You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” he says, crossing his arms.
“You gonna tell me what’s going on?” he asks.
I hesitate.
Henry has always been straightforward with me. No games. No pressure.
“My ex called,” I say finally.
