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A woman’s disembodied voice answered, making them both startle. “This house contains two couches. One is located in the master bedroom on the second floor. The other is located in the living room on the third floor.”
They looked at each other and burst out laughing. “Dream Getaways says you can disable the voice system, but I don’t remember how,” Bliss said.
“Great. We need to hide from our own rental. She doesn’t record, does she?”
“I don’t think so. They said it doesn’t. But it’s still weird. It’s in beta. That’s why this house was available, because some people don’t like being test subjects for new tech. Let’s go onto the terrace.”
“The terrace is located one hundred yards east from the back door,” said the voice.
“Don’t worry, it only responds to house-related words,” whispered Bliss. “And coffee. Kirk says it makes really good coffee.”
“Stop torturing me about the coffee,” Granger grumbled. “Does it do decaf?”
“Making decaf,” said the house.
“Good God, let’s get the fuck out of here.”
The absurdity of the house voice completely lightened the tension. They tiptoed out of the house like two kids sneaking away from their parents, and by the time they reached the terrace, they were both laughing. Granger had to hold his sides to keep his muscles from straining too much, and Bliss informed him that she’d peed her pants a little.
The expansive terracotta-tiled terrace held several Adirondack chairs and offered a lovely, breezy view of the lake. A small Sunfish sailboat with a blue-edged sail skimmed across the water, and farther away, someone was fishing from a long green canoe. The pleasant drone of a motorboat rose and fell with the breeze.
Granger held Bliss’ elbow while she lowered herself into one of the chairs.
“I should probably be helping you instead,” she said with a sigh as she settled in, fanning her face with her sun hat.
“I don’t need help, I’m just slow.” Avoiding twinges, he took his time sitting down. “Is this what it feels like to be retirement age?” He had a sudden flash of him and Bliss as two senior citizens relaxing by the lake. Still bantering. Still bickering. He liked that image. Jesus. He’d never thought once about retirement before. He wasn’t even thirty, why would he?
Someone to grow old with.
The random thought popped into his head, but he chased it away. That wasn’t what he and Bliss were doing here.
But could it be?
One thing at a time. He had to get this part out before he lost his nerve.
“Okay, the eavesdropping house can’t hear us anymore. What were you going to say?” Bliss asked him. She reached out her hand to touch his arm. “Whatever it is, I want to hear it.”
He shifted uncomfortably against the slats of the Adirondack chair. Why was it so difficult to just spit it out? Being direct was usually easy for him. He never saw much point in dancing around a subject.
But Bliss wasn’t like that. Hadn’t she told him she liked dreams and living in a fantasy world? He didn’t want to shatter any of her fantasies.
Just get it over with. Rip off the fucking Band-Aid. She needs to know.
“I don’t know who my father is. I never have. And it’s possible I never will.”
Those three sentences rolled between them like boulders. When he gave a sidelong glance at Bliss, he couldn’t read her expression. Maybe she was still chewing on it. Maybe she was trying to figure out how to tell him to get lost.
“I’m so sorry,” she finally said in a soft voice. “I can see why that’s hard for you.”
He looked at her in disbelief. “Not just for me. For you. And our baby.”
“It’s sad that he won’t have any grandfathers.” She stopped fanning herself with her hat and put it on. It cast a shadow across her face. “But I bet we can ask Alvin to fill in. He’ll want to, anyway, since he’s my godfather.”
“You don’t understand. That’s twenty-five percent of our baby’s genes unaccounted for. And honestly, the other twenty-five percent that I’m contributing ain’t much to boast about. My mother was…kind of a mess.”
“Hm. Then maybe your father was someone really amazing.” She gestured at him. “Because look at you.”
He shook off the comment. She really wasn’t getting it. “I’m passing on a giant question mark. There’s going to a big blank space in our child’s genetic profile. I don’t even know what race my father was, what background, what anything. Doesn’t that scare the crap out of you? It does me. What if he was…fuck, I don’t know. A serial killer. A psychopath. A convicted felon.”
