Choices {Sequel to The Babysitter}

Chp. 14

*Recap
I raised an eyebrow and slowly opened the envelope. There were two note cards in it.

One said: The results are in...

I was even more confused...then I pulled out the other card.

This one said: You are not the father!

A picture of Isabella was pasted below the words.

"What the fuck?" I mumbled to myself.
*****

Ethan's P.O.V.

I rubbed my eyes in confusion, hoping that I was reading something wrong, but I wasn't. The words were right and anger ran through my body as I opened the apartment door angrily.

Melinda sat up groggily from the living room couch, baby bottle in hand.
"What's got you so upset?"

"What the hell is this!" I yelled, throwing the note at her.

She rubbed her eyes and slowly read the note. Her eyes widened as they scanned the note cards.
"What is this..."

"Is it fucking true!?" I yelled, walking up to her.

She stood up quickly.
"No. No it's not."

"I want a DNA test."

"That's not necessary Eth-"

"I want a fucking DNA test! If it comes back negative I swear to go-"

"Why are you so quick to trust this! It could just be a someone messing with you." She yelled, running her hands through her hair, slightly glaring at me.

I calmed down as I heard Isabella start to cry. I sighed and took some deep breaths, trying to calm myself down.
It was late and I was being a bit out of control.
"I'm sorry I snapped..I'm kind of...buzzed.."

She sighed and rolled her eyes.
"Hold on..."

I stopped her and looked her right in her eyes.
"I want...a DNA test. Tomorrow."

"Ethan-"

"Just to be sure. Are you sure it's mine...?"

"......yes..It's yours.."

I sighed and backed away.
"Your child is crying."

*Next Day*
Ciara's P.O.V.

I sighed, struggling to hold my coffee and the box of doughnuts that I had brought Gray this morning as I walked up to his apartment door. I balanced everything and finally knocked on his door. Ethan opened the door with red, puffy eyes and bed hair.

"Good morning sunshine." I smiled, holding a box of donuts up.

He raised an eyebrow, sighed, and let me in.
He looked like he had a rough night.

"What's with you?"

"What do you mean?" He asked, in a raspy morning voice.

"You look...depressed..."

"Hand me a doughnut." He said, ignoring my question.

I handed him one and he sat down and bit into it.
"Why are you here?"

"Why are you asking so many questions?"

"Wow. Someone's cranky. Where is your brother?"

"That's another question." He mumbled.