“Sydney?” Henry asks.
I nod.
“That rarely leads to good news,” Henry says.
I exhale. “She says I have a kid.”
Henry blinks.
“A what?”
“A daughter.”
“Well, fuck.”
“Yeah,” I say.
“How old?”
“Three.”
Henry sinks into the chair at the end of the row. “You believe her?”
I nod. “Yeah, but I did ask for a paternity test.”
He nods. “Smart.”
“Riley figured I should know for sure before my life explodes.”
“Good advice,” Henry adds.
After a quiet minute. “What about Violet?” Henry asks.
“I haven’t told her yet,” I respond.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t even know if it’s real yet.”
“And if it is?” Henry asks.
“Then I have to figure out what kind of father I am going to be.”
“Are you worried about what that means for you guys?” Henry asks.
“We just started something. I don’t want to drop a three-year-old child into the middle of it before I even know what I am doing.”
“That’s reasonable, just don’t wait too long to tell her. I don’t want you to lose her. She’s good for you,” Henry says.
I rub the back of my neck. “I want to tell her. I just need to know for real first.”
Henry studies me for a second. “You look like a man carrying a lot of weight alone.”
“I’m working on fixing that,” I say.
Later that afternoon, I finally make the phone call I’ve been putting off.
Sydney answers on the second ring.
