When Sebastian rushes out, keys in hand, Willow steps over, “Can I look?”
I nod mutely, handing her the baby over. She takes her to the couch and settles onto the cushion, placing her down onto her thighs, where she then unwraps her.
“She’s freezing,” Willow winces, “And wet.”
I nod, unable to really form any words.
“We need to get her warm, Dean,” Willow says sternly, “Now.”
“Do whatever is needed,” I tell her, and the moment I give her permission, she’s up and rushing out of the room and up the stairs. I follow behind, leaving everyone else to watch after us. In the bathroom, Willow begins to run a bath and then sets about undressing the layers on the child.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Willow whispers, “How does this happen?”
“Her mother,” I hang back and watch from the doorway, “It was a one-night thing months ago. I didn’t know.”
“I don’t blame you, Dean,” Willow says softly.
Once Willow strips away the wet clothes, leaving her in a diaper that definitely needs changing, she wraps the baby in one of the warm towels from the rack and then gently rocks her while the tub continues to fill.
“Can you check the water?” She asks me.
“What for?” I head to the tub.
She laughs, “The temperature. Use your elbow; it will help you judge whether the water is too hot or too cold.”
I stare at her blankly.
“You’re going to be fine,” She assures me. “Here, take her, and I’ll check it this time.”
Taking the baby, I cradle her in my arms. Already the color is returning to her cheeks, her skin warming up. But I don’t see how I’m going to befine.
I’m not built to be a father. It was never something I wanted, too fucking traumatized by my own to even entertain the idea. Now, there is no choice.
As Willow takes her from me now that the bath is done, Sebastian returns, two large bags in his hands. He gives Willow some shampoo and body wash and then places the rest of the stuff in the bedroom before coming back to me and slapping me on the shoulder.
“You’re so totally fucked, man.” His fingers squeeze.
“Comforting,” I grumble as I watch his wife bathe the baby.
But I know he isn’t wrong, and I know the moment I find out if this baby is actually mine, they’ll be nothing I won’t do for her. Whether I wanted this or not.
We were able to fast-track the results of the DNA test, and now they’re in my hands, with the match at 99.99%. She’s my daughter.
“She needs a name,” Savannah says, holding the little girl who coos, with a strand of her long blonde hair in her tiny fist.
“I need to find Seline,” I fold the paper and tuck it into my pocket. “I need to know all of her information, everything.”
She nods in agreement, “Are you going to take her with you?” She says, referring to my daughter.
“Fuck no,” I growl, “As far as I am concerned, she has no fucking rights to the kid anymore. She gave her up; there’s no taking that back.”
Savannah nods in agreement, “Listen, me and Killian can watch her while you go, if you want? We have everything we need here now.”
“Yeah, thanks,” I agree. Truthfully, for the past several days, I’ve leaned heavily on my friends to help with my daughter, passing her off every chance I can get. It makes me a shitty person and an even shittier dad, but I don’t know how to do this. I don’t knowhow to bond with a child I didn’t know existed until a couple of days ago.
Or even how to be a father.
“I won’t be long,” I tell them as I grab the keys to the Porsche and realize I’m going to need another car since it isn’t exactly child friendly.
