First I find out I have a kid.
Then I run into this woman I know but don’t who’s apparently going to play my girlfriend while I figure out this kid issue.
Then my father asks me to start up an underground poker ring? That third one has the potential to fire me up. The others feel likesituationsthat need to be handled.
I head back out to the family room, and I toss the shirt and shorts to Ainsley.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, and then she disappears down the hall.
“I guess I need to get going, but it’s harder to say goodbye than I thought,” Tawny says to me. She reaches into the purse she set on the table and pulls out a paper. “This is his birth certificate in case you need it.” She holds it out for me, and I grab it from her.
I glance at the paper. There’s no father listed, and Tawny’s real name is apparently Theresa Jeffries. The baby’s full name isJack Dexter Jeffries. She gave him my first name as his middle name.
Nobody calls me Dexter. I actually thought about legally shortening it to Dex since that’s what I’ve been called my entire life. But my full name is Dexter James Bradley, and it’s weird seeing my name on a certificate as someone else’s middle name.
It’s unsettling. Confusing.
It pulses a bit of unfamiliar emotion in me.
I don’t like it.
She squeezes Jack tightly, and then she hands me another paper. “This one names you as the father and signs custody over to you. You can file for a new birth certificate with it. My lawyer has a copy of it as well. If you need me to sign any paperwork, you know where to find me.”
I nod, and eventually she shudders as she hands Jack over to me. I’m awkward as hell as I take him from her. I think this marks the first time I’ve ever actually held a baby, and I cradle him, not sure what else to do with him. He wiggles a little, and I feel like I might drop him.
“Take better care of him than I could have, okay?” she asks.
I nod as I stare down at him, and he stares up at me. I spot something in his eyes like recognition, and the strangest sensation likeI know himwashes over me. I think the same sensation is washing over him at the same time.
I hear the door click shut as if Tawny—Theresa, whatever—just walked out, and as soon as the door clicks, Jack bursts into tears.
Fuck. What do I do?
I suddenly want to cry, too. I am completely out of my element here.
“Stop crying,” I tell the kid.
He doesn’t listen.
“Shh,” I say.
Nope.
I walk around the room and bounce a little, but I’ve always heard that you never shake a baby, so I don’t know how much bouncing is allowed.
“Fuck!” I yell.
“Okay, okay,” Ainsley says, appearing out of nowhere in a shirt that’s most definitely drowning her. “When a baby cries, it’s usually because he’s hungry, wet, or tired. Sometimes all three. When did he eat last?”
I shrug. Is she talking to me?
“Well, let’s start there. Where’s his bottle?”
“I wasn’t kidding when I said that I literally just found out I’m a father like forty-five minutes ago,” I snap. The kid is screaming his little head off, and what the fuck? Where did my peace and quiet go? The tranquil view of the Strip has been erased by this nonsense.
I shove the kid at Ainsley, and I run toward the room where we dumped all the baby stuff. I find the bag with a bottle in it. I procure it and hold it up as if I’ve just performed some sort of epic feat, and I hand the bottle to Ainsley, who looks much more natural holding a baby in her arms than I just did.
She takes the bottle from me and taps the top of it onto her wrist then shakes it before sliding it into the baby’s mouth.
