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“Uncle?” Fritz asks.
I blink at him. “You speak Spanish?”
“Not fluently,” he says and looks down at Addy with a mocking glare, but his lips are already melting into a smile. “My niece just peed on me.”
“Oh, relax. It washes out.”
THIRTY-TWO
Bren
The phone on the coffee table blares again. I have over twenty missed calls, most of them from Roger wanting a statement for our publicity team to offer the press. Everyone wants to know if Sofia’s daughter is mine.
Get in line. Fuck if I know.
My stomach twists into knots. What if I am her father? Then I’m the asshole who just kicked her and her mother out. I run my hand over my face, defeated. I came back for Sofia. To apologize. To win her back. To be with her again.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
If she’s right, and Addy is mine, I have a hell of a lot of more apologizing to do—the things I said...
“Yes?” Andreas says on the first ring.
“Bring the car around.”
“On it. Where to?”
“I have to go back for Sofia—”
“Um...”
“What is it?”
“She’s still here.”
“What?” I shoot up to my feet. “What do you mean? I thought Fritz and Everett took her home?”
“No. Everett’s with me. We’ve been here the entire time. No orders to take Sofia anywhere.”
What the actual fuck? I toss the phone on the couch and storm to the elevator. Getting off on Fritz’s floor, I stomp to his door and pound on the door. Fritz opens up.
“Is she here?” I hiss.
Fritz nods.
“Let me in,” I demand.
“Your daughter peed on me,” he deadpans.
This asshole thinks he’s funny. “Fritz, let me in.”
“No,” Fritz says calmly.
“Fritz, I swear to god, it’s not the time to—”
“You can see them when you’re calmer.”
Them. It isn’t just Sofia anymore. It’s them. I run a frustrated hand through my hair, pulling it back. “I’m calm.”
