“I…” It’s not mine. The baby isn’t mine. I’ve said that sentence more times than I can count. Now that he’s born, without a mother, I don’t feel as confident.“I’m not the father.”
“Oh.” The woman audibly sighs. “That’s unfortunate. Are you sure?”
“We were going to do a paternity test to be certain, but yeah.” My stomach falls. As much as I don’t want to be the father, I can’t imagine growing up without a family. All that kid’s got is Amanda’s crazy sister. Their dad is in jail for meth and their mom has been in and out of rehab for as long as I’ve known the girl. It’s a shitty situation.
“How soon can you get here? Paternity tests take on average three to five days to come back. Bryson is in the neonatal unit, and will be here for a few weeks, but there is paperwork that needs to be signed. If you’re not the father, Child Protective Services has to get involved and things get messier.”
I pull the key from the ignition and shove it in my pocket. Mom needs to know what’s going on. I’ve kept the baby thing a secret, but with Amanda out of the picture, this changes things. If the kids is mine, there won't be any shared custody agreements or visitation. Everything will fall on me. The bills. The doctors. The late nights. All of it. Shit.
“Um.” I look at the time on my phone and sigh. This is a lot to take in. I still don’t think the kid is mine, but I need to get my ducks in a row. Just in case. “I can be there in about thirty minutes.”
“Okay.” Her rolling chair slides across the floor. “Perfect. I’m running to the NICU so we can get the paperwork ready. For the kid’s sake, I hope he’s yours.”
“Thanks, I think.” I don’t know how I feel about this kid. I don’t want him to be mine, but I don’t want him lost in the system either.
I hang up and shoot Mom a text, telling her I’m picking her up in five minutes. She doesn’t ask questions, just says okay. I love that about her. Whenever I need something, she’s there. No questions asked, ready to help.
I open the sliding glass door to the house and stop in my tracks. Layla’s pouring two glasses of wine in the kitchen, smiling as she holds one out to me. I shut the door and take the glass but set it on the counter.
Layla isn’t supposed to be in town until tomorrow night.
Normally I’d be stoked she’s here early, but I don’t have the time to entertain her tonight. I need to get to the hospital and talk to Mom and figure out how to pay for this kid’s hospital bills.
Fuck.
I hope it’s not mine.
Convincing myself there was no chance I made the kid when he wasn’t here was one thing. Now that he’s born and breathing, needing support from I don’t know how many machines, it makes that point-one-percent more real.
Scarier.
“What are you doing here?”
Layla sets her glass on the counter and wraps her arms around my waist. “I finished work early and took tomorrow off. I thought I’d surprise you.”
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I take Layla’s wrists and peel her off of me. I don’t want to be touched. I want to be alone to process that Amanda is… God. She’s dead. How the fuck is she dead? “You shouldn’t have come. I don’t have time for you right now.”
Shit. That came out wrong, but it’s not a lie. I look at my phone. Five minutes has passed. Mom is probably waiting by the road, wondering where I am.
Layla takes a step back and crosses her arms. “I’m sorry. What?”
I groan and run my hand through my hair. “I need to leave, but you can’t come with me, and I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
Layla stares at me, brows bunched together in confusion. It frustrates me because every second I waste is one more added to the d-date, where I find out my future. My hand shakes with nervous energy. I’m not ready to be a dad.
“Are you kidding me?” Her arms drop to her sides and she takes a step back.
I’m running out of patience, but I’m trying. It’s not Layla’s fault I’ve got to go but I really, really need to leave. “Seriously, Layla, I’m trying my hardest not to be a dick right now, but I’m running out of time. I have to go, but you seem like you’ve got something on your mind. I can spare five more minutes. What?”
“If I had known you were going to turn into such a jerk, I wouldn’t have given up my lease.”
I run my hands through my hair and look up at the ceiling. “What the fuck did you do that for?”
My phone dings in my pocket. I don’t need to look to know it’s Mom, probably wondering where I am and if I’m okay.
“We talked about this.” Layla takes my hand in hers. It’s small and warm, and I can’t help but think about the baby, and how tiny his hands must be. “I’m taking next semester’s classes online so I can be here. With you.”