Anne Haven - Her Baby's Father

Drew sat down on one of the chairs across the room. He leaned back and rested one ankle over a knee, smooth and relaxed, hands resting on his thighs.

She took a deep breath, reminding herself not to give up on him without giving him a chance.

“I’m sure this comes as a bit of a shock,” she said.

He seemed unaware of her meaning, though he’d seen her full belly behind the desk. He flashed her a casual smile.

“How’s it going? Must have been a long drive from California in that old car.”

She stared at him. His appearance was the same as it had been last December. Lighter hair than Ross’s, boyishly handsome face, great body, expensive blue suit. He did absolutely nothing for her.

“That’s not what I’m here to talk about.”

“Ah,” he said. “Your pregnancy.”

“Yes.”

“You do look quite different from the last time we saw each other. But pregnancy suits you. What are you—five, five-and-a-half months along?”

He should know exactly how far along she was. But perhaps his math skills weren’t up to par. “Twenty-seven weeks,” she said.

“I always forget how it works. Is that twenty-seven weeks since your last period or twenty-seven weeks since you conceived the child?”

“This child was conceived on December twenty-second,” she said, ignoring his question and his mention of her period, which was no doubt intended to embarrass her.

He betrayed no reaction. “So you’re trying to suggest it’s mine.”

She’d expected the indirect denial but couldn’t stop the shudder of pain it caused. “I’m carrying your child.”

“Do you have any proof of your allegation?”

“There’s a risk of early labor or injury to the baby with any of the sampling techniques.”

“So, that would be no.”

“No.”

“You’re asking me to take you at your word.”

She forced herself to remain calm. He was acting like the lawyer he was, but she wouldn’t let him intimidate her or provoke her into saying something she would regret. “I’m not a liar,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you implying that I am?”

“You’re married.” And Jennifer felt truly sorry for his wife. She would rather be in her current predicament, if the alternative included marriage to a man like Drew. If it included the awful disillusionment Lucy was sure to experience with the person she’d chosen as her life partner.

“Yes,” he said.

“You told me you weren’t.”

“Did I?”

“Yes.”

“Think carefully.” Drew paused. “You asked me if I was in a relationship. I said, ‘Who would have me?’ You didn’t pursue it. You could have. I understood that you didn’t really want to know.”

“You remember your exact words? Six months later?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

Jennifer realized why. Because he’d used those same words before or since. They worked. They’d worked on her because she hadn’t wanted to believe he would take her to dinner if he was in a relationship. And they might work on other women who didn’t care, as long as they didn’t have to face facts head-on.

“It was a lie of omission,” she said as evenly as she could.

“I’m not responsible for your assumptions.”

“You weren’t wearing your ring.”

He glanced at the gold band on his finger, then waved away the issue. “Let’s return to the matter at hand. And let me tell you how it will appear to an impartial observer.

“You’ve come to me with a claim you refuse to support, and you know your allegations could have a detrimental effect on my marriage. That smells of extortion. For all anyone knows, the child belongs to some other man, who won’t acknowledge it, and you plan to hit me up for some quick cash and disappear before my paternity can be disproved. Now, I’m not saying that’s what you’re doing. But it could look that way.”

Jennifer refused to back down. He could spin things any way he wanted. In the end, he was still the father. She cut to the chase. “When the baby turns out to be yours,” she said, staying cool, “what are you going to do about it?”

“If that were to happen,” he said, “which I very much doubt, then we would work something out.”

“You’ll be a father to your child?”

Drew looked at her as if she’d said something mildly idiotic. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes.”

He gave an uncomfortable laugh and shifted around on his chair. “I would have thought Ross had told you. My wife is pregnant. Our child is due in a few months. I can hardly be a father to yours, can I?”

Thank goodness she had known about his other baby, she thought, or his careless announcement would have rattled her composure further. “So what do you plan to do?”

“Jennifer, this is all a surprise. I can’t make any promises without time to consider. But if it’s mine, we would come to some agreement.”

Hadn’t he just told her how he’d lied to her by relying on her assumptions? She wasn’t about to assume the best in this case. “Please answer my question.”

“For all I know, this is just a hoax.”

“So your answer is nothing. You won’t be accountable.”

“Please don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Then, tell me yes or no. Will you be a father to your child?”

Drew brushed at the knee of his pants. “I want to be very clear about something, Jennifer. I don’t like blackmail. Your unwillingness to take the simple step of backing up your allegation makes your case weak. And I warn you that if you attempt to use your pregnancy against me by involving my family, you will pay a large price.” He paused, checking his Rolex—the same one that had spent several hours on her bedside table six months ago. “It’s late. I need to go home. And I urge you to think very carefully about your course of action from here on out.”

He went to the door.

“So your answer is no,” she said from her seat, in a voice that surprised her for its clarity.

He didn’t turn around. “Good night, Jennifer.”

ROSS HEARD THE SOUND of the study door and stepped from the living room into the front hall.

Drew appeared to be his usual confident self, but Ross thought he saw a little strain at the edges. Just a hint of tension around his eyes and a tight pull to his mouth.

“Well?” Ross asked.

“She’s pregnant,” Drew said. “She looks good pregnant.”

Ross waited.

“It’s not mine.” Drew crossed his arms. “She tried to tell me it was. I’m sure she told you the same thing.”

“She did.”

“And you believed her.”

Ross walked over to the front hall table. He picked up his silver letter opener—a wedding gift—and slit open a piece of junk mail from a wireless phone company.

The action was just the sort of thing Drew would do. Reading his mail while Ross tried to discuss something important with him. He knew it was rude. He regretted it. But it was the only way he could keep from hitting his brother.

Ross had never been a violent person. Outside of some martial arts training in his early twenties, he didn’t recall striking anyone in his life. His brother was the only person who ever made him feel this way, and he hated the power it gave Drew.

He scanned the contents of the envelope, not seeing it. Tossed the papers into the trash. “Yes, I believe her.”

Drew didn’t have anything to say to that. Ross expected him to make a fuss about family loyalty, about believing a virtual stranger over his own brother, but he was probably aware of how ridiculous that would sound.

Speaking of loyalty, he wondered what Drew knew about that summer, about what had happened between Jennifer and him. Because when you got down to it, his actions hadn’t been any more honorable than his brother’s. And he would have done a lot more than kiss her if she hadn’t called it to a halt.