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Shit. Exactly what he didn’t want. Rehashing it all.
A throat cleared, saving him from having to respond. Brick moved his hand away and looked over at Antonio standing there.
“What’s up?” Brick asked, a slight croak in his throat as if still clearing away the potential tears.
“Someone left you something at the door, Corey. You might want to come get it.”
Corey’s brows drew low, puzzled. No one knew he’d be here.
“Okay.” He stood up, laughing. He had no idea why. Maybe because the look on Antonio’s face was giving him the heebie-jeebies. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like whatever was out there.
He didn’t say anything when Brick followed him out. He stopped in his tracks. Brick bumped into him when he saw what sat on the bar.
“She’s a cutie,” Antonio said as he walked past them.
“Please tell me that’s not a baby on the bar,” he mumbled to his brother.
“Oh, it’s a baby all right.”
Corey took tentative steps toward the carrier sitting on the bar and frowned at the petite bundle wrapped in a pink blanket inside. At least she was sleeping.
He looked over at Antonio. “Where are the parents? This is a joke, right?”
Antonio shrugged. “Dude walking out saw the carrier sitting on the floor and flagged me over. The note inside said it’s not a joke.”
Corey’s gaze swung back over to the baby where a white note was tucked in the side. He picked it up and cursed inside at how his hand shook.
I just can’t do it. I tried and I’m not cut out for motherhood. I know you’ll make a great father. Her name is Amelie. She’s all yours now.
“We should definitely talk about that memory of yours. You have a daughter?”
Corey didn’t turn around to berate his brother for reading over his shoulder. He was shell-shocked. This had nothing to do with memory loss. He had no clue he knocked anyone up.
Shit.
He had a daughter.
* * *
