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Probability of paternity 99.9999%.
I sat back in my chair, holding the baby securely with one hand, and rubbed the other one over my mouth. Letting the message soak in. Or trying.
“Wow.”
Post-it pad still sticking out of her mouth along with gobs of saliva, Juniper turned her head toward me, her wide, arresting eyes taking me in.
My daughter.
All I could do was stare back at her stupidly, reeling.
I was a father.
As many times as I’d turned over the possibility in my mind the past few days, you would think I’d be prepared for it, but no. Gazing into those trusting eyes, I couldn’t quite wrap my head around the reality that I was a dad.
The sound of the front door opening and closing penetrated my attention.
I stood, pulling Juniper into my chest—Post-its, slobber, and all—and went toward the main part of the house. Quincy stood at the island with some shopping bags, including one from the Dragonfly Diner judging by the savory aroma permeating the air.
She met my gaze with her pretty, happy eyes. “Hey. The princess awoke, I see.” Her gaze rested on me for a second before landing on Juniper as she lost hold of the notepad and it fell to the floor. “Does this guy have you working for him now?” Quincy asked the baby as she approached. “Taking notes? Plotting books?”
When she reached us, she bent down to retrieve the paper and continued her one-way conversation with Juniper as I tried to figure out how to tell her our news. “You bring new meaning to the phrasesticky notes, sweet pea.”
Quincy wrinkled her nose as she held the soaked pad between thumb and finger. As she rubbed her knuckle lightly over Juniper’s pudgy cheek, I said, “I got the results.”
Her gaze popped back to meet mine, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “And?”
“She’s mine. Ninety-nine-point-nine-nine-percent probability. I’m Juniper’s father.”
Quincy grabbed on to my forearm, the one that supported Juniper. “Knox!” Her eyes had widened as she scrutinized me. “Are you… Are you okay?”
I took a slow, deep breath, considering the question. As I exhaled, I said, “Yeah.” Then a smile took over my lips. “Yeah. I think I actually am.”
“Oooh.” Quincy bounced on her toes, and the next thing I knew, she threw her arms around me and Juniper. My arm automatically banded around her and pulled her in. I tried not to think about the smallness of her waist or the feminine curve of her hip below my fingers.
“Congratulations, Knox,” she said into my shirt.
For a moment, I breathed in her floral, sunshiny scent mixed with the baby’s clean smell, and a foreign sensation stirred deep inside my chest.
Before I could think more about it, Quincy let out a sharp “Ouch!” and laughed.
I released her and peered down in question. Juniper had grabbed a chunk of Quincy’s long hair, which she wore down today instead of her usual thrown-on-top-of-her-head style.
“Juniper,” I said as I grasped her tiny, fisted fingers and loosened her hold. “That hurts Quincy.”
Once her hair was freed from the baby’s hold, Quincy stepped back, biting her lip, looking self-conscious for an instant, and then hitting me with a bright smile. Too young for me or not, she was a beautiful woman. Any man would be hard-pressed to stand this close to her, with her beaming up at him posthug, and not be affected.
“You,” she said, her attention homed in on Juniper now as she took hold of her hand, “are a very lucky girl. You got a good guy for a daddy.”
Quincy’s gaze flitted back up to mine for a pronounced moment. I shoved my free hand into my jeans pocket to keep from touching her, pulling her close again the way I suddenly had the urge to.
A second later, she glanced at the clock on the stove. “I hate to celebrate and run, but I need to get going or I’ll be late, and I’ll never hear the end of it from my stepmom. Your dinner’s in one bag, and I got Juniper some books in the other. If you need anything, text me. I can bring Molly here with me.” She hurried toward the door.
“We’ll be fine,” I told her.
“Congratulations again, Knox,” she said, then disappeared.
She closed the door, and the room became noticeably emptier.
