Page 70
Vincent furrows his thick brow. “Aren’t those things done anonymously?” he asks.
I look away from Milo. “They are,” I answer him. “And this was.”
“Then how do you know he’s Charlotte’s father?”
“I met him the other day,” I say. “We got to talking after I noticed his eye defect. It didn’t take long before we put one and two together.”
“Met him where?”
“At the police station.”
He squints. “Was he a witness?”
I hesitate. “Not exactly.”
His head falls. He rubs the bridge of his nose. “Jesus, Anna…”
“Nothing is going on, Vincent,” I say. “We’re just—”
“Making out in my alleyway?”
“Not technically,” I say, raising a hand. “You interrupted us before anything could happen again.”
“Again?”
I sigh. “I know it’s wrong, Vin, and if you’d been in that alley thirty seconds earlier, you would have heard me tell him that. Believe me, no one’s beating me up more than I am right now.”
He softens, letting his shoulders ease down a bit. “So, who is he?” he asks. “Is there anything I should know about?”
I chuckle. “How much time you got?”
Vincent rolls his eyes and exhales.
“Oh, my god, Anna…” Evey pokes her head into the kitchen. “You didn’t tell me Charlotte’s sperm baby daddy was such a hunk.”
Vincent frowns at her, craning to eye the corner table again. “You said you wouldn’t leave them alone, Evey.”
“I’m just getting some coffee.” She slides the coffeepot off the heat and pulls a to-go cup off the stack beside it. She winks at me. “I didn’t think they made Ivy League dudes who looked like that.”
“Well, he’s not actually…” I swallow it, not wanting to give Vincent more reasons to despise him.
He walks over and snatches the pot from Evey’s hand. He places it back on the heat and grabs the decaf pot to give her instead.
She sneers at him. “I forgot how boring you get when I’m pregnant.”
He sighs, turning back to me with deep lines creasing his forehead. “He’s not actually what?”
“Okay…” I speak slowly. “I’ll tell you, but first, you have to promise you’re not going to freak out and go all Navy SEAL on him.”
“Freak out?” He scoffs. “When have I ever—”
I arch a brow. He pauses to regain composure.
He clears his throat. “He’s not actually what?” he asks again, this time a little calmer.
CHAPTER 24
MILO
