“They’ll hate you, and she’ll have to choose between you and her family. Do you really want your precious angel to have to do that?”
“If I do this, you’ll never bother her again? Or her family?”
“If you leave her, there’ll be no reason to.”
I can fix this by going to Scott and Tara and telling them the truth. But I’ll still be that guy—the one who knocked up a woman on a one-night stand. The one who has a kid with someone who isn’t their daughter. They are not going to want her to be with a man like that.
Charlotte happened before Frankie, and I can tell them that, but I will still have to pay the price for my mistake. My huge fucking mistake.
How do I leave Frankie? How do I walk away from the thing I love most?
“I’ll come see you this evening, and we’ll talk. Don’t do anything in the meantime.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
I end the call and look at Frankie. “We have a huge problem.”
“What’s new?”
“You don’t understand. This time is different. She has one-upped me—us—in a major fucking way. It’s serious.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“She threatened to go to your parents. Tell them all kinds of shit—enough to make certain that they hate me enough to never go along with us being together. Which ruins any chance you and I have at being happy together since I know you’d be miserable if there were trouble between your parents and me.”
“I hate her so much.”
“Scott isn’t going to be okay with your being in the middle of this situation with her. Hell, I’m not even okay with it. I feel like I should be shielding you from her shit, and instead it’s raining down on your head because of me.”
“Charlotte can fuck with you. Charlotte can fuck with me. But I’m not okay with her fucking with my family.”
“She says the only way she’ll keep quiet is if I leave you. Never see you again.”
“This is the thing. The pregnancy is her ammunition against us. But her power is temporary and won’t last forever. In four months, this will either be over with forever, or she’ll become a whole new beast entirely.”
“What are we going to do?”
“We’re going to be smarter.”
Charlotte is all smiles and dressed in a lacy black nightgown when she answers the door. Not bed-rest attire for a pregnant woman at all. “I knew you’d come.”
“You didn’t give me a choice.”
“Sorry about that. Come in.”
I follow her into the living room and the scene is set for romance. Dim lights. Candles burning. Soft, romantic music. Some girly pop shit you hear on the radio every day. Nothing like the music Frankie would choose.
She gestures for me to sit down. “What did you decide?”
“You got what you wanted. Frankie and I are over.”
Charlotte’s smile couldn’t be bigger. “I knew you’d come to your senses and see that I was right.”
“I didn’t come to my senses, and I damn sure didn’t get what I wanted. I’ve told you from the start that Frankie’s the one thing I love most in this world. And that’s why I was willing to let her go rather than hold on to her and cause her any more pain.”
“You’ll get over her.”
“I will never get over her. Ever.”
“I think you can. And I think you can come to love me too with her out of our way.”
I shake my head. “No.”
“I understand it’s going to take time. I’m patient. Until then, focus all of your love on our daughter. And I promise you that the moment you lay eyes on her, it will be as though Frankie was never in your life. That little girl is going to wrap you around her finger. You’ll see.”
“You agreed not to go to Frankie’s parents. I need your word that you aren’t going to do that.” Not that I believe her word is worth anything.
“I’m not interested in anything having to do with Frankie as long as she’s out of our lives.”
“You don’t ever have to worry about that. I hurt her so deeply that she’s never coming back to me.”
“What did you do?”
“She thinks I’m choosing you over her.”
“You’re here. You are choosing me over her.”
“I’m choosing to no longer hurt her because I love her so fucking much. There’s a difference.”
“Doesn’t matter. She’ll never know that.”
“She won’t. Because she’s leaving. Leaving Iron City. Leaving Birmingham. Leaving me.”
“Where is our precious little blue-eyed angel going?”
“Texas. She’s moving to Austin to live with her best friends just like she planned. Just like we never happened.”
“Texas? That’s fantastic. How many miles is that? Must be at least a thousand, right?”
“Seven hundred eighty-five.”
“Far enough that I don’t have to worry about her popping in to shit on my life. I’m proud of you, Porter. You finally manned up and made the right decision.” Charlotte slides across the couch and puts her hand on my thigh. “I think you deserve a taste of what you’ve been missing out on.”
“No.”
She tosses her leg over me and climbs onto my lap. “I could ride you all night.”
“No.” I grasp her wrists and push her off me. “First of all, I’m not interested in sleeping with you, but even if I were, you’re pregnant and on bed rest for preterm labor. You shouldn’t be doing things like that. It could make you go into real labor, and they might not be able to stop it.”
“But I’m so horny.”
“Having sex right now is putting the baby’s safety at risk. She’s barely far enough along that she’d have a chance at surviving right now. You don’t need to be messing around with me or anyone else.”
This baby may or may not be mine. Either way, doesn’t matter. She shouldn’t be putting a child’s life in jeopardy because she wants to get off.
“But I’m so lonely. You’ve been able to fuck anytime you want while I have to lie here and do nothing. Be celibate. How is that fair?”
Such a liar. She hasn’t been lying around doing nothing. And I’d probably be right if I guessed that she hadn’t been celibate either.
“You’re going to be a mother. It’s your job to put your child’s needs ahead of your own. That includes taking your medicine on time and staying inactive. And no sex.”
“We don’t have to have sex. You could go down on me.”
“Fuck no.” My mouth isn’t going anywhere near that.
“I need you to listen to me closely because the rules of this game are changing. Frankie isn’t in this picture anymore. That means you’re fucked because she was the only leverage you had with me. This shit you’ve been pulling ends now.”
“I haven’t pulled any shit with you.”
“I will continue to pay your rent and bills, but you will not show up at my house. You will not show up at my work. You will not text me. You will not call me. I will not be going to any of your doctor appointments or ultrasounds. I have no intentions of bonding with you ever. And I do not intend on bonding with this baby until I know for a fact that she’s mine. If it’s confirmed that she is, we will make some kind of custody arrangements at that time. If we are unable to agree on the arrangements, we will go to court and a judge will do that for us.”
“Porter … don’t do this.”
“Did you think you were going to win my heart by forcing me to end my relationship with Frankie?”
“You just need a little time away from her, and you’ll see that you belong with the mother of your child.”
“The next time I hear from you, you better be giving birth.”
My office landline rings. “Porter Beckman.”
“This is Charlotte’s mother, Sandy. She asked me to call you because she’s in the hospital. They weren’t able to stop her contractions this time. The baby’s coming.”
Ten weeks
early. She’s going to be tiny.
“How dilated is she?” No way I’m going up there and sitting with her for hours.
“Six centimeters. They told us the baby would probably come soon.”
“I’m on my way.”
I end the call and take a deep breath. “Fuck.”
This is it. I’m finally going to be able to prove or disprove my paternity. No more wondering. I’ll either be set free or imprisoned in hell.
I’m a little more nervous than I thought I’d be.
I stop by Molly’s desk on my way out the door. “I’ll be out the rest of the day. You can forward my calls to my cell if anything pressing comes up.”
“Will do, boss.”
I enter the labor and delivery unit, and I hear Charlotte howling. What the hell? She should have had an epidural by now. That’s one reason I didn’t rush to get here.
Charlotte makes an over-the-top spectacle of everything. I figure giving birth is the worst possible scenario. And I’m not wrong, based on the sounds I hear coming from her room.
She has been writhing in the bed so hard that she has a huge rat’s nest in the back of her hair. Definitely not a good look for her. “Fuck! This is the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life. I didn’t think it was going to hurt this bad.”
Charlotte sees me in the doorway. “Porter, I’m in so much pain. Come hold my hand.”
I look at her mother. “Why doesn’t she have an epidural?”
“Part of her blood was too low. The clotting part or something. They said they can’t do the epidural because it could cause a bleed in her spine.”
“Motherfuckers want me to hurt!”
Oh damn. This is going to be unpleasant.
“Here comes another one,” Charlotte’s mom says.
“Shut the fuck up!” She beats her hands on the mattress. “You think I don’t know when another one’s coming. I’m the one feeling this shit.
“I’ve got to have something for pain. Call my nurse and tell her.”
“The nurse just gave you something.”
“Well, it’s not fucking working.”
Scream. Yell. Cry. Moan. That’s what’s in my ear for the next hour.
I know Charlotte is in pain. I don’t doubt that for a second. And as much as I dislike her for all the pain she has caused me, I don’t wish this kind of agony on her.
“Do you have to smile so fucking big when you come in my room?”
Charlotte’s nurse is a young woman who radiates with happiness–which is probably great for this line of work– but her smiles aren’t flying with her patient right now. “It’s time to check you, Miss Patterson.”
The nurse lowers the head of the bed and does the exam. “Motherfucker!” Charlotte grabs the nurse’s wrist and I can tell that she’s squeezing it. “You’ve got to stop.”
“Ten centimeters. You’re ready to push.”
I back away from the bed and sit in the chair when the nurse begins to uncover Charlotte and position her pushing. I don’t plan on watching anything that happens below the waist.
“Porter, I want you to watch the baby come out.”
“Forget that. Not happening.” I’m in this delivery room for one reason and one reason only. To give the doctor the cord blood paternity test and let him collect the sample for me. I’m out of here as soon as that happens.
The nurse gives Charlotte direction on what to do when it’s time, but I’m not sure she even listened. She’s too busy hounding me about holding her hand and watching our baby come into the world.
Breathe. Push. Scream.
That’s how the next few minutes go.
“I can see the top of the baby’s head.”
That catches my attention. “What kind of hair does she have?”
Charlotte perks up because she thinks I’m interested in the baby. And I am interested. But not for the reason she’s hoping for.
“None.” The nurse giggles. “She looks bald.”
No wild Beckman hair. Doesn’t prove she’s not mine but it’s a good start in my book.
Charlotte’s doctor comes into the room and gowns up for delivery. “Push and we’ll have a baby in the next few contractions.”
One. Two. Three contractions later, Charlotte’s baby makes her way into the world.
“Look at our daughter, Porter. She’s beautiful.”
I look at the baby, only getting a quick moment to search for a part of myself in her. Can’t tell—the doctor hands her off to the intensive care nursery staff quickly.
I do have time to see that her head is bald as a cue ball. It could mean nothing; she’s premature.
But this paternity test… it means everything. “I have a cord blood paternity test. I’d like to ask you to collect a sample for me.”
“Porter, our daughter was just born. You haven’t even held her yet, and you’re asking for a paternity test?”
“I sure am. And you can forget me holding her until I know she’s mine.”
The nurse takes the kit from me and hands it off to the doctor. The tube is passed back to me in a plastic bag. “I’m using a private lab and paid extra for the test to be rushed. We’ll know the results in two days.”
“They’re rushing it? That means they’ll probably make a mistake.”
“Nope. Don’t even go there and start in making claims about the results being wrong. I don’t want to hear that shit.”
“She is your daughter.”
“We’ll see, won’t we?”
28
Frankie Dawson
I enter the house with at least twelve sacks of groceries hanging on my arms. Yeah, I’m that person. The one who will die making one trip from the car with groceries rather than go back a second, third, and fourth time.
I bet every vein in my neck bulges when I lift the sacks up and toss them on the kitchen counter. “Uhh.”
“Good grief, Frankie. Let me help you with that.”
“No way. It’s been two days since your last chemo. You should be resting, not putting up groceries.”
“Stop, Frankie.” Kit places her hand on top of mine. “Go to the bedroom. He’s waiting for you.”
“He’s here?”
Kit nods.
“But it’s Wednesday.”
She cradles my face. “Go to him, sweetie. He’s eager to talk to you.”
Porter has come to see me at his parents’ house every weekend for the last six weeks. Like clockwork, he arrives on Friday evening and leaves late Sunday afternoon. It’s been our routine.
Nothing about our lives has been ideal these last weeks. Although extreme, my disappearing act was necessary to convince clusterfuck I was in Texas and no longer in Porter’s life. My absence ended any interest she had in spinning her web around my family. Without her realizing it, her demand for me to be out of the picture inadvertently ended the only leverage she had with Porter.
Everyone in our inner circle believes I’m in Mobile caring for Kit—my mother-in-law-to-be. It’s a huge lie to tell the people we love, but we will have saved ourselves a lot of pain and grief if Charlotte’s baby isn’t Porter’s.
But all of this will have been for naught if he is the father.
Each step I take toward the bedroom makes my heart race a little faster. I simultaneously want to run to him and stand right where I am because I’m terrified of what he’s going to tell me.
“Mama, I'm Coming Home” is playing, and it grows louder as I get closer to our bedroom. He doesn’t hear me approach so I stand in the doorway, taking a moment to study him as he gazes out the window.
He’s so beautiful. And I love him.
He’s mine, no matter what.
He turns and smiles when he sees that I’ve entered the room and shut the door behind me. “Baby…”
One word. It’s all he gets out before we’re crossing the room to crash into each other, him clenching me so tightly I can hardly breathe. He buries his face in my hair and his body shudders.
He’s crying.
Oh no. The news isn’t what we were hoping for.
My chest aches and I shudder with him, sharing his pain.
“It’s okay. I love you. We’ll make it work somehow.”
He loosens his hold and presses his forehead to mine, cradling my face in his big hands. “Charlotte’s baby is not mine.”
“Say it again so it can sink in.”
“The baby is not mine. The Charlotte nightmare is over.”
“It’s finally over.”
I smile and Porter’s mouth crashes against mine. He grasps the back of my thighs and lifts me, carrying me to the bed. He lowers me, but we don’t fall together in the middle as an entwined mess of arms and legs. Instead, he sits me on the edge and goes to his knees in front of me. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too.”
He pushes his hand into his pocket, pulling out a black ring box. “I bought this weeks ago. I’ve been carrying it around in my pocket to give me hope. Hope that no mattered what happened, you would one day be my wife.”
He cracks open the box and takes out a white-gold and diamond ring just like the one we discussed. “Frances Ameline Dawson. You have been my constant, endlessly loyal beacon. The blind faith and steadfast love you’ve given me is more than I ever expected or deserved. There’s been a thousand times you could and probably should have left me. But you didn’t. You stayed and weathered the storm by my side. And that’s where I want you for the rest of our lives. Will you marry me?”
I hold out my hand for him to slide the ring on my finger. “Yes. I will marry you and be by your side for the rest of our lives.”
Epilogue
Frankie Dawson
I’m helping Adelyn clean up the kitchen while Lawrence nurses Emeric. “I’m sorry y’all are having to do that without me.”
Adelyn slings her hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry about it. Not a big deal.”
“Emeric’s done well with being weaned but he downright refuses to give up his bedtime nursing.”
“One or thirty-one. None of them want to give up tit.”