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“What now?” he asks.
I take a deep breath. “We’ll have to come to some sort of agreement.”
His head falls to the side as he studies me. “What does that mean?”
“We’ve been fine on our own this past year. I’m able to provide for us comfortably. I have a great support system with all my friends. We don’t need anything. If you don’t want to be a part of this, you don’t have to—”
“I didn’t say I don’t want to be a part of it.”
I smile. “I know. I’m just giving you your options. If you need to walk away, I understand. We don’t need anything from you. But if you want to be part of her life, Bren, it’s forever. I don’t want you around if you don’t mean it, so think about it very carefully—”
“I want to be in her life,” he says firmly.
“Bren, I had an entire eight months to grapple with this. You need more than one angry day to make a decision like this. Think on it—”
“I don’t need to think on it. She’s my daughter—”
I wince a little at those words, and my attentive Bren doesn’t miss it. His eyes narrow slightly.
“Sheismy daughter. Right?” That muscle in his jaw is popping again.
How could I tell him? I know in my heart Audrey is Bren’s. My soul knows this kid is all him. How could she not be when she has her dad’s very eyes? But there is that slight chance. That one percent doubt I’ve always carried and thought I’d be taking to my grave with me.
“Sofia? Is that little girl over there mine?” His voice rises, and Addy stirs a bit.
“I’m pretty sure she is. Yes. But not without a shadow of doubt.”
Bren springs to his feet and can’t stop himself from shouting. “Fuck, Sofia! What the hell?!”
Addy lets out a full cry then, and I scurry over to pick her up in my arms.
“Please stop shouting. You’re scaring her.”
“I can’t!” he roars, and Addy responds in a higher pitch.
I wince. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. Daddy’s just a bit upset.”
“I might not be her...” He trails off, looking at the back of Addy’s head as I support it in my hand.
“We can get you a DNA test, Bren. Calm down. But I don’t need it. I know in my heart she’s yours.”
“Youwerealways sleeping around,” he says and laughs bitterly.
I rear back. “Bren!”
“Do you even have any idea who else’s she could be? How many candidates for father are there, Sofia? Huh?”
“Bren, I—”
“Tell me, god damn it! How many paternity tests will you subject your daughter to?”
My eyes drift closed. I have to remind myself that he is so angry. He doesn’t mean these hurtful words. I need to make allowances for him because I already hurt him too many damn times. I’ll take the punches now if he needs me to.
“Only one other possibility. The timing . . . it’s—”
Bren picks up a dining chair, intending to throw it, but watching me holding the baby, he only slams it back down in its place. Addy still winces at the sound and cries harder.
“Who?” he yells.
