Anne McAllister - Breaking the Greek's Rules

“And Charlie?”

“He doesn’t know about Charlie. I’m doing him a favor, really,” she said firmly. “He doesn’t want kids. He never did.”

“Because he doesn’t think he has any,” Cal pointed out. “What if he finds out he does?”

“He won’t.”

“But if—” Cal persisted. It was what she hated about him.

“Charlie is mine! And yours.”

She had always told Charlie—not that he understood yet really—that he had two fathers—a birth father who had given him life, and Cal, the father he knew. Charlie didn’t question it. Someday he would, no doubt. But by then it would be ingrained in his mind. There would never be a time when she had to “tell him” his father was not Cal.

Because in every way that counted, his father was Cal. Cal was the one who had been there for her. He’d been her husband when Charlie was born. Charlie bore his surname. He was the only father Charlie knew.

If someday he wanted to know about Alex, she’d tell him. If someday in the distant future, Alex learned he had a child, perhaps they would meet. But not now. Now Charlie was a child. He was vulnerable. He didn’t need a father who didn’t want him.

“You don’t know what he’ll do, Daze,” Cal said heavily, “if he finds out.”

“He won’t find out.” She would make sure of that.

Cal’s smile was grim. “We hope.”

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