“Wait.” Wooziness whips through my gut. It takes out my knees, and I catch myself gripping the back of a chair. “What did you just say?”
Pinstripes continues like she hasn’t just flipped my whole world upside down. “You’re welcome to have your own legal counsel review the documents, but I’m certain you’ll find the terms simple and fair and designed to bring the most private, expedient conclusion to the matter at hand.”
My tongue is a limp piece of sourdough bread. “I’m sorry—did you say parental rights?”
Lab Coat jumps in for this one. “In cases like this, near the start of the second trimester, prenatal paternity testing is ordinarily a simple procedure requiring a maternal blood test and a cheek swab from the potential father. However, in the case of a multiple pregnancy, the free-floating DNA from both fetuses in the mother’s bloodstream makes establishing paternity prenatally impos?—”
“Pregnant?” Whipping my head to the right, I lock eyes with Hazel. “You’re pregnant. With multip—with twins?”
Clenching her jaw, she nods once. “Yes.”
“Twins.” My mom is a twin, and so was her grandma. “My twins?”
Hazel’s jaw tightens. “Mine.”
I’m a little too mind-whacked to nitpick biology, but I can’t let that pass. “Unless we’re talking artificial insemination or immaculate conception, there’s a reason you called me in here today.”
Holy shit.
I’m going to be a dad?
Hazel’s lips flatten into a thin, pale line, but at least she’s meeting my gaze now. Her blue eyes look shiny and cool, but I notice the tremble in her lip. “I’d like to keep this quiet and simple,” she says primly. “We’ve taken care of all arrangements to ensure there’s no need for you to be involved at all.”
I can’t process the words coming out of her mouth. My knees feel like putty and my mouth tastes like gravel. “You’re having my child. Children.” Holy shit. “We made babies?”
I dart a glance at her middle and watch her hand leap to her belly. She’s blocking my view, or maybe she’s cradling the still-baking buns in her oven. Our buns.
Holy shit.
My mouth hinges open to say—who knows what?
Because Perky-Cool Smile jumps in like a referee. “Given Ms. Spencer’s high-profile status, we’re taking precautions to ensure the discussions that occur in this room remain confidential.” She’s clenching her teeth as she smiles, which looks weird. “You’ll find an NDA in your packet, and we’re prepared to offer you a generous?—”
“Discussions?” Glancing from Pinstripes to Lab Coat to Hazel, I replay that word in my head. “This is your idea of a discussion?”
Pinstripes bristles. “Mr. Lovelin?—”
“Get out.”
Her jaw hinges open. “I beg your pardon?”
“All of you—out. Now. Please.” I add that last word as an afterthought, though I honestly don’t feel like being polite. “Everyone who wasn’t involved in creating this pregnancy—which I’m just now learning about, by the way—needs to get out of this room right fucking now so I can have a word with Hazel alone. Hazel?”
I lock eyes with her, hoping she’ll hear me out. “You’ve obviously known about this longer than I have, and I’m sorry you’ve had to face it by yourself. The thought of you feeling scared and alone breaks my goddamn heart, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. But you need to know I’m not signing a damn thing until you and I talk one on one.”
Her face reddens as she chews on her lip. Before she can answer, Pinstripes pipes up. “That’s completely unnecess?—”
“All right.” Hazel presses her palms to the table, then turns to the women surrounding her. “Please give us a moment?”
Pinstripes glares like I’ve sideswiped her car. Perky-Cool stands up and gathers her things, glancing around like she’s checking for cameras. Only Lab Coat hesitates, bending her head toward Hazel’s. Reddish-brown curls fall over her face as she whispers something I can’t make out.
Hazel nods once as her eyes start to shimmer. “I’m okay,” she says softly, glancing at me. “He might be a hothead, but I’m safe with him.”
I’m safe with him.
Those words—not even meant for my ears—fill me with a feeling I can’t name. It’s like warm cake batter oozing through my chest cavity. As the women file past, I move to the head of the table. I look at the packet they asked me to read and instantly hate every word of it. I don’t even have to open it to know that.
Leaving the packet, I round the table and approach Hazel. I sit down beside her, breathing the scent of roses and sandalwood and maybe a faint whiff of oranges. She leans away but doesn’t order me back to my place. Swiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she watches the conference room door click shut.
