Who's Your Daddy? (3 page)

Maybe this curiosity was better left unsatisfied.

That’s what you get for waiting until this late in the game to give it a shot, dumbass
.

I sighed and shook my head. I’d always been a little curious about women but assumed and accepted I was gay. I hadn’t understood bisexuality. It was one or the other, I thought, and I wasn’t about to give up men. Then along came Donovan. Next thing I knew, sex with a woman was on my “Oh shit, I’m almost forty and still haven’t…” list, ranking right up there with skydiving and owning a Mustang. Now, with my birthday rapidly approaching, the car was in the garage, and neither my mother nor my left knee had forgiven me for jumping out of a perfectly good airplane.

And, for better or worse, I’d been with a woman.

I’d asked Angela to send Carmen back to my office when she came in, so when the gentle knock came at one o’clock sharp, I knew it was her. With my heart in my throat, I went to the door and pulled it open.

Some women could get away with never bothering to wear makeup, and Carmen was one of them. Her fair skin contrasted flawlessly with her lips and her nearly black eyes. My sister had met her a year or two ago, and to this day swore she’d sell her soul for eyelashes like Carmen’s.

Today, Carmen’s long, dark brown hair was pulled up in a loose ponytail, a few strands falling beside her face and reminding me of the way she’d looked when Donovan had grabbed her hair last time, and there went my neutral, professional, platonic approach to this conversation.

I muffled a cough and forced a smile. “Hey, stranger.”

“Hey,” she said with a shy smile and quickly broken eye contact.

That wasn’t a good sign.

“It’s, um, it’s good to see you. Been a while.”

She met my eyes again. “Good to see you too.” We exchanged a quick hug before I stepped aside to let her in.

We lingered by the door for a minute, alternately meeting each other’s eyes and looking away like a couple of uncertain teenagers. And even though I couldn’t hold her gaze for very long, nor could she hold mine, I did sneak a few surreptitious looks at her.

Maybe I just saw her in a different light now that I’d seen her undressed, but God
damn
it, she looked good. She always had, but evidently sleeping with her had made me that much more aware of it. She was beautifully curvy, the kind of woman whose hips just begged for a man’s hands on them. Now that I’d held them in my hands, I desperately wanted to again. How the hell had I ever thought I was one hundred percent gay? Women didn’t usually register on my radar, but when they did, especially this woman, the attraction was strong to say the least.

I’d seen that blouse before, its modest neckline showing off just the most mouthwatering hint of her collarbones.
I know what her skin tastes like there,
I thought with a shiver. Maybe it was just my perspective being skewed by the knowledge of what was beneath her clothes, but I didn’t recall her filling out the top of her blouse like that before.

Say the word, Carmen. Just say the word
.

Clearing my throat, I gestured for her to follow me to the area where I sat with my clients.

“This is all I’ve got.” I nodded at the couch and armchairs. “I hope it doesn’t feel too much like you’re my client or something.”

Carmen laughed. “It’s okay, I’ll manage.” She took a seat on the couch and pulled her legs up under her.

Usually, I’d sit in one of the armchairs, but that made me feel too much like this was a therapy session, so I sat on the couch instead, leaving half a cushion or so of breathing room between us.

“So, what’s up?” I asked.

Carmen wrung her hands. Taking a deep, ragged breath, she stared at the floor in front of the sofa instead of looking at me.

The counselor in me knew a million ways to gently coax an answer out of someone. The friend knew when to put a platonic arm around her or touch her hand. The man who’d slept with her…didn’t know where the lines were anymore.

I swallowed hard. “Carmen?”

“I…” Her cheek rippled as if she’d clenched her jaw. Then, all at once, her shoulders dropped, and she released a breath that came out as a sob. “Fuck, Isaac, I’m…”

“What’s wrong?” I moved closer to her and wrapped my arm around her shoulders. “Carmen, talk to me, sweetheart.”

She covered her eyes with a trembling hand, and my blood turned cold. She sniffed. I thought she shuddered but quickly realized it was another barely stifled sob. My heart pounded. I’d never seen this woman cry. Ever. And no matter how much she apparently tried to keep me from seeing it now, she couldn’t quite contain her emotions.

I kept one arm around her and reached up with the other to gently brush a tear from her cheek. We’d always been physically affectionate in a platonic way, and sitting like this now almost felt awkward. Like we shouldn’t have been this close now that we’d been
that
close. But whatever we’d done, she was still my friend, and I wasn’t about to push her away, especially not if she was in this puzzling and alarming state.

“What’s wrong?” I asked again.

She sniffed and looked away. “Fuck, I told myself I wouldn’t do this.” She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes, cursing softly.

“It’s okay.” Guilt twisted in my gut. This had to be about the threesome, and I’d had no idea it bothered her
this
much. I swallowed hard. “Is this about…that night? At our place?”

She winced and dropped her gaze, sending my heart into my feet. Then she gave a slow, subtle nod.

“Which part?” I asked. “I mean, if you’re wondering if we thought it was a mistake, we don’t. Neither of us regrets it.”

“It’s not that,” she whispered, and a smile tried halfheartedly to come to life. “I enjoyed it, believe me.”

Well, that was something, but…

“So, what is it?” I asked.

Carmen moistened her lips. When her tear-filled eyes met mine, it was one of those unnerving moments in my life when time ground to a halt for a few nerve-racking seconds, and I had absolutely no idea what was about to happen.

Finally, she spoke. “I’m pregnant.”

The air in my lungs turned to lead, and the blood in my veins turned to ice. Had I been standing, my knees would have buckled as I stared at her, lips parted and eyes wide. When I could finally convince enough air to move to allow me to speak, I said, “Are you…”
Serious? Joking? Come on, Isaac, she wouldn’t joke about that
. “…sure?”

She nodded slowly.

Holy. Fucking. Shit
.

Carmen broke eye contact and exhaled. “I’m so sorry, Isaac, this is…it’s…”

“Don’t apologize.” I stroked her hair. “We were just as much a part of this as you were.”

“Well, one of you, anyway,” she said dryly.

My hand stopped. Our eyes met again. The shock hadn’t yet worn off, and up until she’d said that, I hadn’t gotten that far yet.

Carmen wiped her eyes again and looked away. “Jesus, I can’t believe I didn’t even think to use condoms.”

“No kidding.” The words came out as little more than a hollow whisper.

Taut silence hung in the air. What was someone supposed to say? The marriage counselor in me probably knew what to say, but the man who’d just found out his best friend was carrying either his or his boyfriend’s baby was, to say the least, at a loss for words.

And how the hell
did
we forget to use condoms? There was no doubt we were all pretty well trashed, especially if it even slipped Donovan’s mind. He’d already become a father at an inopportune time once in his life; it wasn’t something he took lightly. It wasn’t something any of us took lightly.

I’d used protection in my single days, of course, but I’d been with Donovan so long it hadn’t crossed my mind in years. And getting someone pregnant had just…it hadn’t been something I’d ever had to consider when I was having sex. That night, it had just happened. Unplanned, unanticipated, without any second thoughts. And we were drunk and horny and…

Here we were.

I gulped. “How long have you known?”

“Since this morning.” She sniffed. “Right before I called you.”

“And you’re sure it was that night that—”

“What kind of slut do you take me for, Isaac?” She wrenched away from my grasp and glared at me. “Do you really—”

I put a hand up. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry, Carmen.” I reached for her shoulder, and thankfully, she didn’t recoil from my touch. “I’m just, I’m still trying to get this into my head. I didn’t mean to imply anything.”

She relaxed and let me pull her close again. “It’s okay. I’m having a hell of a time getting it into my head too.”

“I can only imagine, sweetheart.” I kissed her forehead.

“We need to tell Donovan,” she whispered. “You don’t think he’ll be upset that I told you first, will he?”

“No, he won’t.” I held her a little tighter, and she sank against me.

“I don’t know what to do,” she said unsteadily. “This… Christ, I can barely take care of myself right now.”

“We’ll figure something out.” I stroked her hair, hoping my own nerves didn’t make it into my voice. “Why don’t I talk to Don tonight? Then you can come to the house tomorrow, and the three of us can talk things over. Or would you rather wait until we’re all together?”

“You don’t mind?” She lifted her head off my shoulder and looked up at me. “Telling him?”

“Of course not.” I tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You’ve already had to work up the nerve to tell me. I can tell him.”

Nodding slowly, she just whispered, “Thank you.”

That night, the sound of Donovan’s car in the driveway made me shiver, and not the way it usually did.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and promised myself I could do this. Maybe not right this second—if Donovan had had a particularly difficult shift, this was the last thing he needed—but tonight. Tomorrow morning, if he was absolutely not in a good place tonight. Soon.

I pushed my chair back from my desk and left my home office, pulling the door closed behind me. As I came down the stairs into the kitchen, the front door opened and footsteps tapped on the hard floor of the foyer.

A moment later, Donovan appeared in the kitchen. He looked exhausted. His dark eyes had heavy circles under them, and his shoulders sagged like the duffle bag he carried was full of lead instead of clothes. None of that was unusual; he was always dead tired when he came home from a three-day rotation at the firehouse.

Exhausted or not, he looked good. He always did. Even when they were tired, his blue eyes always sparkled with mischief, and his dark hair was as meticulously styled as anything could be meticulously styled with a few half-assed sweeps of his fingers. Judging by the way his T-shirt clung to his arms and shoulders, the recent changes he’d made to his already intense workout were paying off. Paying off in
spades
.

The bag hit the floor with a thud, and he managed a smile.

“Hey, you.” He put a hand on my waist.

“Hey.”

Donovan raised his chin to kiss me. The next kiss went on a little longer.
Just wait until we go to bed tonight
, his lips said. Our eyes met, and the devilish wink echoed that sentiment. I forced a smile, somehow doubting he’d be in the mood once I’d finished telling him what was on my mind.

He picked up the mail that had accumulated during his rotation.

I tapped my fingers on the counter. “Anything exciting happen on your shift?”

“Not this time,” he said, flipping through a stack of junk mail. “Pretty quiet for once.”

Good. That means I don’t have to keep this under my hat tonight.
“Boring, then?”

“Hell no.” He grinned. “We finally got that Xbox we all pitched in for.”

I laughed. “Great, now you’ll never have a reason to come home.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Another wink, and we both chuckled. “Hey, we have to do something in our down—”

He cut himself off when his son shuffled into the kitchen, radiating the typical “blah, whatever” enthusiasm of a sixteen-year-old. He’d arranged his dark hair – identical in color to his father’s – into some semblance of neat and combed, and he’d tucked his red fast-food uniform shirt in on one side. By the time he got to work, he’d have it fixed and presentable, but he’d hold on to the most rebellious appearance he could until he absolutely had to square it away. Like father, like son.

“Hey, Dad,” Ryan said, “can I take the car on Friday night?”

“Where to?” Donovan asked.

“Me and Kristy are going out with some friends.”

“Define ‘going out’.”

Ryan released a huff of breath and rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, probably just hanging out at Gameworks or something.”

“Who’s going?”

Ryan set his jaw, probably weighing the pros and cons of giving a smartass retort instead of answering his father’s question. An upward flick of Donovan’s eyebrow dared him to. With an exaggerated sigh of exasperation, Ryan’s shoulders dropped.