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Emily bites her lip. "I understand, and I would advise you to do a paternity test," she adds. "But before you do, see her."
I sit straight and cross my arms in front of me. "And why would I do that?"
"Humor me, Cole," she says, making direct eye contact.
I stand and point at the door. "Take me to her, Emily."
Emily gets up and grabs her purse, and when we walk out of the building, we both put on our sunglasses as the L.A. sun shines its hot, bright rays on us as we step out of the building's shadow.
"Where have you parked your car?"
I point, and she nods. "You can ride with me," I offer.
She hesitates for a moment.
"I'm not a serial killer, nor do I plan on hurting you. I'm being a gentleman and offering you a ride."
She chuckles at my words. "Fine, let's go."
Emily gives me her address, and during the car ride, questions arise, and I ask, "What was Jessica's profession?"
Emily shifts in her seat and places her hands on her lap and fiddles with her fingers. "She was a server."
I raise a brow. "Still a waitress? Jessica told me she wanted to go to law school."
From my peripheral view, I notice Emily biting her lip before she answers. "She waited tables in a restaurant by day, and at night, she worked as a waitress in a strip club."
I cough hard. "What!" I let out, dumbfounded. That is not the Jessica I remember.
Emily and I go silent, and a whirlwind of thoughts spirals in my head. Jessica's life goal was to go to law school. No, it wasn't a goal, it was a dream. She was enthusiastic about it, about how she wanted to change the world and bring justice to the underprivileged. She wanted to flip things and turn wrong into right, shed light on the darkness. That was what I loved about her the most. Where did that woman go? What—Something sparks in my mind, but when I'm about to ask Emily, we arrive at our destination.
Emily steps out, and as we step over the threshold, my head is buzzing with questions. "Samantha?" she calls out.
I close the door and wait while Emily walks straight into her living room and stops. "She's outside."
My eyes go to the broad window and scan the garden. A girl with a mint green shirt is sitting cross-legged with her back towards us in the grass. She is enjoying the sun, wearing headphones, and bobbing her head to the beat.
Emily turns. "Let me talk to her first," she says while walking to the back door.
"Go ahead. I'll wait here."
"Thank you." She crosses the lawn and makes herself noticeable by standing in front of the girl. I step closer to the window, letting my eyes drift over her dark blonde hair up in a ponytail. Her head goes up, and when she removes her headphones, her back stiffens at something Emily says. Emily points my way, and the girl rises. When the young woman turns, I'm nailed to the floor as I take in her facial features.
Sweet Jesus.
Emily places her hand on Samantha's back as they walk my way. My head is spinning with a myriad of questions, but when she stands before me, silence takes over.
Emily starts the conversation. "Why don't we sit?"
Samantha walks to the couch. Her eyes are on the ground. Emily takes the seat next to Samantha while I sit in the chair across from them. I cross my feet and wait. Everyone is silent, and after a while, Emily opens her mouth.
"Samantha, this is—"
"You're my father?" Her chin lifts, and I answer.
"Yeah, the chances of that being true have grown."
"You thought my mother was a liar!" she states with a thick voice.
