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“Here goes.” Lucas gave a nervous chuckle. I wasn’t the only one needing to release the tension. He picked up the envelope, inspecting the outside. I held my breath.
After ripping off the tabbed strip, he turned the envelope upside down, and a slip of paper floated to the table. I leaned forward, waiting for Lucas to give some indication of what it said.
He straightened the paper in front of him, bending his head to read it. It felt like an hour passed before he moved a muscle. My stomach twisted in a knot. I don’t remember ever feeling this nervous.
“The DNA markers matched. It says, ‘Subject A has a ninety-nine point nine percent chance of being the father of Subject B.’”
The dining room chair fell backward as Lucas stood to his feet. Grabbing the paper in his hand, he paced from the living room to the dining room.
“I don’t know how in the hell this happened. I was always so careful. In every aspect.”
“I’m sorry, Lucas. This news is quite the shock, but we—”
“We?” Lucas interrupted Mr. Sloan. “It’s me. I have no business raising a child.”
“I’ve prepared a strategy. Please take a seat and let’s talk about this. Find a way out.”
I slumped to the floor, heartbroken to hear Lucas’s first reaction to the news. Get rid of her. I wanted to shout out and run to his side, look him dead in the eye, and yell, “Stop!” Didn’t he realize she was a part of him? A precious, though horribly timed, gift.
While little angel Esmé slept a few feet away dreaming sweet baby dreams, her very own father rejected her without a thought. I prayed it was a knee-jerk reaction and not Lucas’s true heart, but all I knew so far was his ability to be two people. One I could fall in love with. The other I loathed.
22
Lucas
“What are my choices concerning the child?” I asked my attorney as we moved to sit on the couch. Shit, I’m a father.
“I’m not an expert in family law, especially in California where the child was born. But, generally, you have few legal options, because you can’t fight a certified DNA test. Hell, they send people to death row with them,” Sloan said. “For one, the financial responsibility of raising Esmé will fall at your feet. No court will let you escape from this obligation. Expect the requirements to be high with your degree of wealth.”
“I’m willing to support her. That isn’t an issue for me.”
“Then the true question is a moral one really. How much do you want to be involved in your child’s life? Do you want to try for some type of custody sharing? Splitting the child’s time between both parents. Or do you want to forgo custody all together and just pay child support, more an absentee father? Whatever you decide, I’ll find the best family attorneys to handle it for you.”
Sloan laid out all the choices. The easiest and quickest one spoke to the dark side of humans. Money. Lots of cold hard cash paid to have the role of being a father disappear from my life. I could give Coco enough money to live a well-suited lifestyle, even buy her a house in a posh part of Los Angeles like Beverly Hills. The nannies and best private schools would be available to the child, plus I’d provide a college fund.
Trying to decide which direction to take, I remembered Rodney Thomas, a loner friend in college. One night, he’d gotten shitfaced and had told me about his father. He’d hated him more than I did mine, which was saying a lot.
His mother was a mistress to a wealthy man and found herself pregnant after being with him for five years. He’d told her many times he’d leave his wife for her, but never did. My friend’s mother ended up raising him alone with a large payoff for her silence.
Rodney’s father never even sent a birthday card or present. The only gift he gave him was a healthy trust fund when he turned twenty-one. Rodney planned on taking the money out and burning it in a bonfire. I didn’t know where Rodney was today, but I hoped he was okay.
Could I be a cold, heartless bastard like Rodney’s father—willing to reject a child who had no part in the mess I helped create with my selfish desires? The answer was clear to me. For once in my life, I had the chance to do the right thing when the unexpected happened.
“Find Coco, Sloan,” I still couldn’t call her by her real name. I’d have to work on that. “I want to talk to her, open up communications about shared custody. I won’t be just a man who signs a check for things in her life. I want to be her dad too.”
