As a single mom in a small town, there's only one thing I want. Another baby. When all the roads to getting what I want lead to dead ends, I turn to one of my best friends for help.
In my mind, Trent Castillo is the perfect baby daddy. He has good g...
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I've only re-watched my little session in the office with Em once when I was here alone one night, and then I deleted it. And for that, I'm quite proud of myself, because seeing it play back felt like a lifetime highlight. The video was the first time that it hit me full in the chest that I'm going to be the father of Emily Sullivan's kid. Me, Trent Castillo, and Emily Sullivan. And the way she so clearly wanted to be with me, wanted me when I watched the video was a bit awe inspiring.
When I was serving time, if someone had told me that this is where I'd end up—running my own shop, trying to have a kid with Em, I'd have told them they'd done too many drugs.
Every part of me is glad to be where I am right now in life, but I definitely don't think I deserve it. Not any of it. Even if we're hiding our arrangement, Em and this life still feels like mine. Mine in a way that it shouldn't. She doesn't want another relationship, and with my past, I'd only drag her down. She'd be foolish to want anything more than what we're already doing. And I need to keep sight of that—that we're temporary. Enjoy every second, but don't turn our situationship into a relationship, not in my mind and definitely not out loud.
"Trent," my mom calls from the front reception. "Emily is on the phone."
My mom has decided that helping me out three days a week gives me a chance to be in the shop with the guys when she's here and learn the front office when she's not. Ever since Grady paid off her house and all her debts, she's been semi-retired, only working when she feels like it. She's refused to take payment from me, but I've been trying to set money aside to give to her when I take over all the finances from Emily next year.
I clean my hands and head to the closest phone. "You okay, Em?" I ask when my mom patches Emily through.
"I'm sorry to call you at work," she says, her voice shaky, and immediately my hackles go up.
"What's happened? Are you okay? Is Amir okay?"
"There's an envelope from the genetic testing facility," she says. "I should have just waited until you got home. Sorry. It just..." There's a thickness to her voice that makes my chest tighten in response. "I panicked."
"Do you want me to come home?" I'm already mentally shuffling work to other mechanics to be able to leave.
"No," she says, but there's a hitch in her voice. "That would be silly. Whatever's in there will be the same later."
A rational, responsible thing to say that's got no bearing on the intense surge of protectiveness running through me at how she's barely holding herself together. I'm ready to slay a fucking dragon, and all I need to do is open an envelope and read the response so I can either find an impossible way break the results to her gently or help her celebrate.
If I've told her I'll be the one to pick up the pieces or hold them or whatever she needs, I can't let her down today of all days.
