She cuts me off. “I said it’s fine. You have all the information you need. For reasons I’d rather not get into right now, I know for a fact you’re the father, but I understand if you can’t take me at my word since you don’t even know me. Do the test or don’t. If you decide to do it, text me which lab you go with and I’ll bring Lincoln in for his sample.”
A shadow falls over us from the doorway as Gavin fills the space. He glares at me before crossing the room and lifting Lincoln from Phoebe’s arms.
“Let me try,” he says, already using the same bouncing step Phoebe used moments ago. “You two cantalk,or whatever. Somewhere else.”
She releases a long sigh. “Thanks, Gav.”
I follow her out of the room and back to the living room, where she flops down onto a huge blue couch.
“Look,” she says, lacing her fingers behind her head. “I don’t want to deal with this today. When Lincoln doesn’t sleep, I don’t sleep. I’m exhausted, I have a ton of work to do, and—”
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry to have barged in like this,” I interrupt. “I’ll get out of your hair. We can talk about this later.”
She turns her head to look at me with a smirk. “To be honest, I’d prefer not to talk again until we get the paternity test. I’m sure you understand why. You’re the one who left that message, after all.”
I nod. “Again, I am sorry about that.”
“I get it, I really do.” She looks away and takes a deep breath. “And I kind of admire your dedication to expressing yourself without cursing, even while you were obviously drunk.” She smiles wanly and changes the subject. “We might as well get it all done at once, so make the appointment and text me the details. I work from home so I can be there anytime.” She gets up, walks back into the room where Gavin is rocking Lincoln, and closes the door on me.
I nod to myself and step away. No sense pushing this when I’ve fucked up so phenomenally. At least now I’ll have time to come up with a proper apology.
“Eric,” I yell. “Let’s go.”
“Yup,” he calls from the kitchen. “Coming.”
I go to the door and step outside, waiting at the passenger side door of Eric’s car. He joins me soon after.
We’re halfway back to my place before he cracks a grin. “Well, I’d say that went well, wouldn’t you?”
I snort a laugh that turns into a groan before lowering my head into my hands. “Yeah,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “So well.”
Chapter 12
It’s Good To Have Friends
Archer
EricandIhavebeen sitting at our friend Mason’s bar since we left Phoebe’s house. He’s drinking, but I’m not. I’ll be sticking to plain water for the foreseeable future, especially after how much I drank last night. It’s too bad, too, because I could use a drink right about now to help drown out the terrible Christmas pop music playing in the background.
“Do you really think she’s trying to trap you with someone else’s baby?”
“I mean, maybe? Her fiancé left her at the altar that same day. What if it’s his baby?” That doesn’t sit right with me, though. Something tells me Phoebe wouldn’t lie about something like this.
Eric throws back the last of his scotch and signals the bartender for another. We came to see Mason, but he’s unexpectedly off today. He never leaves this place unless we’re meeting up to play basketball, making it extra weird that he’s not here.
“I guess it’s possible,” Eric says. “But if that’s the case, why would she leave contact information for every lab in the city that does DNA testing? I double checked her list. She didn’t miss a single one. And she hasn’t asked you for anything. The letter she gave you said nothing about child support. If she were trying to take advantage, you’d think that would be one of the first things she’d ask for.”
He’s probably right. I don’t know her that well, but nothing about Phoebe strikes me as manipulative or conniving. Then again, I never thought that of Annabelle either, and look how that turned out.
“Unless the whole thing was an elaborate ruse. Maybe she spent her evenings wearing a wedding dress and sitting at different bars, waiting for an unsuspecting mark. You walked in and she knew she’d hit the jackpot.”
I snort a laugh. “Oh yeah, because some asshole dressed like Santa Claus just screams money.”
He holds his drink up in a toast. “Well, you did spring for the deluxe costume. It’s not your average Santa that has the soft velvet suit and a luxurious, realistic-looking beard.”
I shake my head with a laugh. “She took the jacket with her when she left in the morning. Didn’t she say she still has it? You know, in the letter? I wonder if the costume shop still wants it?”
“See?” He laughs. “She knew you made enough money to rent the good costume. What more could a woman want in a baby daddy?”
