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“Demand? Or paternity test?”
I glare at her. “Bastard. It’s unpleasant, it’s not the baby’s fault that we fucked up, and it’s not the fourteenth century. Second, I’m convinced you didn’t know I owned the company when you agreed to work here. I could see from your face—and the fact that you passed out—that you weren’t expecting to see me. And third, if you are the mother of my unborn baby, I’d like to start off our relationship with positive vibes, which includes me believing that you’re telling me the truth, if that’s okay with you.”
She chews her bottom lip and doesn’t reply, but her expression softens.
“Coffee?” I ask, and she nods.
I get up and go into the next office, leaving the door open. Marion’s sitting behind the desk. Kip is still here, looking through the folders of one of the filing cabinets, but he glances over and turns as I come out.
“I’m just making us a coffee,” I state, going over to the machine on the table.
“I can do that,” Marion protests, but I hold up a hand.
“It’s all right, I need to take a few minutes.” I turn it on and insert a capsule, then put my hands on my hips and take a few deep breaths.
The phone rings and Marion answers it, says, “Okay, thanks,” and hangs up. “Back in a sec,” she says, and goes out of the office.
Kip comes over and leans against the table, observing me. “You all right?”
I press the button to start the espresso and get some milk out of the fridge. “Yeah.” I pour it into a jug, put the milk back, then look at him. “She’s very defensive.”
“Hmm.” He cocks his head. “Did you ask her if it’s yours?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“She said yes.” I take the mug out, slide another one under the nozzle, change the capsule, and set it pouring.
“Do you believe her?” Kip asks.
“Yes.”
“Are you going to ask her for a paternity test?”
“Jesus. She just asked the same thing. No. I said I believe her. I’m not going to start this whole thing off by acting like I don’t.”
He doesn’t react to my sharp tone. We know each other well enough for him to guess that I’m frustrated and concerned rather than angry.
“But the dates work out?” he asks.
I hesitate. I’m not going to lie to him. “She doesn’t know how far along she is. I would have said the dates were out by a few weeks. But that night she said she wasn’t dating anyone, and just now she said she hadn’t been with anyone for eight months before she met me. And you saw her reaction—she didn’t come here looking for me. And…” I hesitate. “I believe her.”
“You believe her? Or you want to believe her?”
I scowl at him. He raises his eyebrows.
“Yeah,” I say, “because having a one-night stand turn up and announce she’s pregnant with my baby is soooo convenient right now.”
“I know how much you liked her. You didn’t stop talking about her for a fortnight. And I know you’re an old romantic, and you’re already dreaming about a happily ever after for the two of you.”
I slide the milk jug under the steamer and give him a wry look. “I’m really not.”
“I’m just saying, I don’t think you’re as objectionable to the idea of being a dad as you’re pretending.”
I press the button to set the steamer going, then stare off into space. “I’m going to be a father.” I blow out a breath. “Holy fuck.” I feel suddenly dizzy and bend forward, resting my hands on my thighs.
“Are you going to pass out as well? Do you want to put your head between your knees? I don’t think I can carry you to the sofa.”
