“Say no more. I will gladly drive my brother’s car and take you to the appointment,” Tenley agrees and squeezes my hand again.
“So I guess I should text him and give him a heads up.” I sigh. I am not looking forward to telling Tate his secret is out.
"Nah. No need to stress him out now." Tenley pats my hand and gives me a reassuring grin. "Besides, over text or the phone, he won't believe I have his back. Little shit will think I'm going to stab him in the back and blab in the family group chat or something. Better he sees with his own eyes I'm on Team Dylan and not going to make this worse."
That makes sense. And besides, I don’t want to throw him further off his game. Tenley reaches down and takes her hat from Dylan’s hands then lifts it up and drops it on his head, making a goofy face while she does it. Dylan giggles with delight. She giggles back. I didn’t realize how similar Tate and Tenley’s features were until now, because I see her in Dylan too.
“I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but fuck Diana for not telling Tate.” Tenley sounds furious and I can’t blame her.
“You said it yourself,” I reply. “He’s not willing to give anyone anything of substance and Diana knew it. She accepted it. And then she found Felix.”
“Felix was good to her? And Dylan??”
I nod and picture the guy who turned from Jekyll to Hyde the second Diana’s death certificate was signed. “Felix was older than us. Thirty-two and wealthy and settled in a good career and hewasvery good to her. He agreed, without hesitation, to help her raise Dylan and was set to adopt him after they got married.”
Tenley’s big eyes get even bigger. “So Tate was going to lose all rights without even knowing it?”
I pick at the fringe on one of Tate's throw pillows. His style in this place doesn't really feel like him. It feels like he hired someone to decorate how a rich guy's place should look. "For the record, I intended to tell Tate myself if and when she tried to go through with the adoption. I knew she would disown me as a friend, and of course, fire me as a nanny, but I knew it was the right thing to do. But then we had the accident and I never got the chance."
“And now here you are.”
“Here we are,” I confirm.
Tenley shifts her blue eyes down to Dylan who is happily playing with her hat again, waving it like it's a flag and he's at the finish line of the Daytona 500. The late afternoon light sliced into the living room, showering him in golden hues. Angelic is the only word for him at the moment. Tenley tears up but ignores it, wiping calmly at her tears. "He's going to be so loved by everyone," she says with a soft smile. "As soon as I get my brother's head out of his ass and make him tell the fam."
I stare at her and try not to worry. Tenley is a bit of a bull in a china shop and Tate is fragile right now. She might just break him.
Chapter12
Tate
“You really don’t want to join us for wings?” Nash asks again as we make our way through the small, private parking lot at LAX for the charter planes.
I shake my head. “Nah. I’m exhausted and I have stuff to do at home.”
“Are you finally banging that hot neighbor?” Crew asks crassly. “That would explain why you never come out anymore and what you have todoat home that’s more important than an afternoon with us.”
I smile at him because a couple of weeks ago, he would have been right with that guess. But the truth is I haven't thought about Tara at all. Or any of my current hookups, like Christine one of our communications team members. She and I hooked up after the Quake Christmas party and again on a road trip a couple months ago. She texted me her room number because she came on this road trip too, but I didn't do anything with the information. She's sent me a couple of texts since and I've ignored them.
It's not that I don't need to fuck, because, Jesus, do I ever. It would likely help immensely with all the stress I'm carrying. But my mind doesn't wander much from thinking of Dylan, and what's best for him, and keeping things with Mallory on a good note. I don't think bringing a strange woman over to fuck would help anything right now. And honestly, the only person I want to have sex with is Mallory.
I want it so bad I’m starting to have sex dreams about her. I mean, it’s not weird. Mallory’s gorgeous and we just had a brief but super-intense make-out session recently. Plus, that night we had together, as messed up as it was, was also hot.
Anyway, I don’t correct Crew’s assumption. It’s just easier if he thinks I’m involved with someone. Then he and everyone else will stop questioning me about my absence from things. “Remember the curfew boys. Have some extra spicy wings for me.”
I walk to my waiting Uber, which also confuses Crew and Nash because I always drive to the airport myself. Why wouldn’t I? “Lent the car to Ten this week.”
“I thought she was banned from driving your baby.”
Baby. Yeah, I have a new definition of that word and it doesn't involve a vehicle. I shrug. "She wore me down."
"You'll be lucky to get it back in one piece," Nash jokes. He and my sister aren't exactly the best of friends. He thinks she's a loose cannon and she thinks he's a wet blanket. Neither is wrong.
I laugh at his comment and get in the back of the Uber. I reconfirm he's got the address of the clinic. It's supposed to be this high-security place that the lawyer says all of Hollywood goes to for their really top-secret medical stuff. He swears no one will ever know I'm getting a DNA test done there.
I'm being ridiculous about the secrecy of this, but the fact is, when the news of Dylan's existence breaks, I want to control the narrative. I haven't exactly figured out what the back story will be but I feel like 'Tate Garrison only takes responsibility for son after the mother dies' shouldn't be a part of the public history. No one will believe I didn't know about him, but if they did that just makes Diana look bad. Headlines like 'Woman tried to hide baby from pro athlete after one-night stand' aren't what I want the world to know either. Shit lives on the internet forever, and one day Dylan will be old enough to Google.
The DNA test is required to get my name on the birth certificate but no one needs to know about this. Once I'm legally named Dylan's dad, I'm going to hire my own PR person, who will work in tandem with the team's PR and we'll spin it that I knew about Dylan but agreed to have him raised in London. This tragedy changed the plan and I gladly stepped in. Because that part is true. I am gladly taking responsibility for Dylan. Even if he still hates hanging out with me. I am never letting him go.
