Page 2 of What I Needed

“Are you kidding me? This has to be a joke.”

“I wish. I need to figure out if the kid is mine.”

It was his turn to release a deep breath.

“I’ll have someone there in the next hour.”

“Thanks. Does this person understand that we need to be discreet?”

“I know damn well you don’t think you’re the first player to reach out to me who needed a paternity test.”

“You’re right. I’ll be waiting for their arrival. Thanks again.”

As a small forward for the Black Elm Scorpions, there was no shortage of women I had access to. In every city we played, I had no less than three who I could call who would do just about anything I wanted.

I had no idea who I’d fucked a year ago, so finding out who this child’s mother was would take some digging. I’d reach out to the building’s security to see if they’d caught anyone on the cameras, but other than that, I didn’t have a clue where to start.

I decided to take a quick shower before the doctor arrived, so I gently picked up the car seat and carried it into my bedroom. I placed it right outside the bathroom door, leaving the door open while I prepared the shower.

Five minutes later, I stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my waist and looked down into those big, bright eyes. She looked content as I picked her up and placed her on the bed while I dressed comfortably in athletic shorts and a T-shirt.

I stood at the edge of the bed, staring at her while she stared back at me. Suddenly, her little arms and legs kicked and swung, and out of nowhere, she was screaming at the top of her lungs. I unfastened the straps and picked her up, hoping to console her, but she wasn’t having it.

I rushed to the living room where I’d left the diaper bag, praying there was at least one premade bottle inside. I held her with one hand against my chest while digging inside the bag. Thankfully, I found a small, insulated bag with two bottles inside.

“Okay, baby girl. Give me a second,” I pleaded as she screamed at the top of her lungs.

The bottle may have needed to be warmed, but I didn’t have time for all that, so I sat on the couch and put it to her mouth. She immediately latched on and went to town. The milk disappeared from the small bottle in what had to be record timing.

Once it was empty, I removed the nipple from her mouth, and baby girl’s lips quivered. Seconds later, my condo was filled with the cries of an unhappy baby, and I was unsure of what to do.

“I don’t think someone your age is supposed to drink two bottles in one sitting,” I said as if she could understand me or hear me over her screams.

I stood, put her on my shoulder, and walked around the living room, patting her back, thinking maybe she needed to burp. She did release some gas from both ends, but it didn’t stop her tears.

“C’mon, baby girl. Give me a break.”

I returned to the couch and looked in the diaper bag for a toy or pacifier, . . . hell, anything that might quiet her down. I found a rattle and shook it in front of her face, and it didn’t help at all. A knock at the door, which I barely heard, gained my attention.

“River Westmore?” the man said when I opened the door.

“Yeah. Please, come in.”

He stepped inside, and he waited for me as I closed the door, then followed me into the living room.

“I’m Dr. Carner. It sounds like you’ve got your hands full,” he commented.

“Tell me about it. I fed and burped her, and I don’t know what else to do.”

“I’ve raised three kids. Did you try changing her diaper?”

“Changing her . . . Shit! Let me do that. I think there are diapers in her bag.”

While I got busy doing what should have been obvious, he set up what he needed to do the paternity test. As soon as I removed the wet diaper from her bottom, wiped her down, and covered her in a dry diaper, she was good to go.

“Is that better, little one?” I asked, picking her up and holding her in the air.

She’d stopped crying and gave me a smile, so I guess that meant she was okay. I placed her in the center of the couch and went to throw out her diaper and wash my hands. When I returned, she was content, sucking on her fist.