I blush. I didn’t know he was listening. “I was thinking of taking her into town today.”
He shakes his head. “Can’t. I promised to help Aaron fix a second-story window at the lodge, then I have to fly.”
“I don’t need a babysitter. I just need a truck.”
“What’s mine is yours,” he says, nodding to his keys by the door. “Damn, it’ll be nice not to have to worry about you or Andie or anyone when you go off the property. We don’t have to look over our shoulders or wonder how Jon is going to mess with the ranch.”
“You don’t think your mom will do anything?”
“My mother?” He laughs. “No. She’s good at manipulating people, but she’s not a hardened criminal.” He reaches for Josie. “I’ll take her for a while. Drink your coffee.”
“How about I make pancakes?”
“Perfect.”
I can see them from the kitchen. He’s making her smile. They look good together. Comfortable. I get my phone and browse the pictures I’ve taken of them, trying to see similarities. Is the shape of their noses the same? The shade of their skin? Her hair is too fine and short to tell if it will curl up at the ends like his does. They both have blue eyes, but that doesn’t mean much; I’ve read a baby’s eye color can change. I stare. But their smile; I swear it’s the same. She has to be his.
Quinn props Josie on his lap while he eats. “How long before she can eat pancakes?”
“A while. She’ll have to eat pureed baby food first. She won’t eat things like pancakes until she’s much older, eight to twelve months.”
“Been reading up on it have you?”
“Well, someone has to. I didn’t want one of us killing her by trying to feed her a cheeseburger.”
He brushes a soft tuft of her hair. “We’ve muddled through okay. Don’t you think?”
I chuckle. “What do you think, Josie? Do you like it here?”
Quinn gives me an uneasy look. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Amber.”
“What? I’m just saying. I think she does. What’s not to like?”
He pushes away his plate, then puts Josie in her swing. “I have to get ready.”
“Your baby is adorable,” a woman at the park says.
“Thank you,” I say. I don’t bother correcting her. What would be the point? Let’s see, what would I say? She’s not mine. In fact, she might not even be my boyfriend’s. She was dropped off with all her stuff, forced onto us with no warning, then we got attached to her as we wait to find out her paternity, after which I have no idea what will happen. Will she remain part of our lives or will he simply write a fat check every month? Will I even get to see her anymore, or will I always wonder what became of her?
“How old is she?”
“Eleven weeks.”
She watches her son play in the sandbox. “I remember when Michael was her age. Be sure to cherish every moment. They grow up fast.”
My throat tightens and my eyes sting. I excuse myself and put Josie back in her stroller. We walk past the playground, and I wonder if I’ll ever get to push Josie on a swing. My mind goes to Piper. Did she think of me when she looked at playgrounds? Did she wonder if I was being pushed on a swing while yelling, “Higher! Higher!”?
I gaze at Josie. Why did I agree to this? I never thought it would drag out this long. We should have had the results weeks ago. Labor shortage or not, they should expedite paternity tests. How can they expect people to sit and wait for something so crucial?
“It’s not fair,” I say to her, handing her a toy. “To anyone.” Tears threaten. “You know what? We’re going shopping. Wherever you end up, you’re going in style.”
An hour and three hundred dollars later, I stop at Starbucks on the way home. The drive-thru line is super backed up, so I park, get Josie out, and go inside.
I’m waiting for my order when someone comes up behind me. “Amber Black?” I turn to see Karen Thompson. “Or should I say Amber Mitchell? Oh, that’s right, you’re not a Mitchell. She didn’t want you.”
My stomach clenches. I want to ask how she knows all this, but I’d rather just collect my coffee and leave.
“And now you have your own kid who you’re trying to push on my son.”
“You don’t know anything about it,” I say. “Excuse me.”
I walk away, but she follows. “Quinn will tire of you. He goes through women like tissues, using them and throwing them away. Surely you know this. He’s a Thompson. It’s what we do. We use people. Doesn’t matter where he lives, he’ll always be one of us.”
“Don’t you have a brother you need to bail out of jail?”
She sneers in disgust. “My brother has never been the sharpest tool in the shed. He’s a half-breed. Not like Quinn. And sooner or later, my son will realize his place. And believe me, it’s not with a woman who needs a father for her illegitimate kid.”
I’m dumbfounded. “Are you serious? Isn’t that exactly what you tried to pull when you had Quinn?”
“Like I said, we use people. And it takes one to know one. You should quit wasting your time and go back to Calloway Creek. I’m sure you can find some poor sap up there to take on your charity case.”
“Amber!” the barista calls.
I grab my coffee and leave, hurrying to the truck. I strap Josie in as Karen strolls to her Range Rover, eyeing me how a predator eyes its prey. “I take it back, JoJo. You might be better off not being a part of that family.”
Chapter Thirty-one
Quinn
I head back home after a second visit to the police station. They’re trying to make sure the case against Jon is airtight. I’m not sure how long he’ll get, but since he violated parole, held me at gunpoint, assaulted me, and was both in possession of and selling a shitload of drugs, the detective thinks he could be looking at the better part of another decade at the very least.
When I pull into the ranch, the mail truck is leaving. I gaze at the mailbox. Is today the day? It has to be coming soon. I pull to the side, get out, and stand in front of the box. “Pussy,” I tell myself. “Just open it.”
I unlatch it and reach inside, well aware of my heart pounding as I sift through the mail. It’s not here. And for the first time, I’m not sure if I want to be relieved or pissed. I glance at the guest house. Do I want her to be mine? And if she is, what would it mean? I get the feeling that Amber would be fine with it. The two of them have some cosmic connection. But would I be okay with it?
When I go inside, Josie is on her stomach on the floor. She sees me and rolls over as if excited. I get down on all fours and make a production of crawling over to her. “You’re a pro, JoJo. Look at you! Did you roll over?” I tickle her chin. “You’re such a big girl.” I lean down and blow raspberries on her neck, and she laughs.
I pull back and stare in disbelief. I lean down and do it again. Again, she laughs. I pick her up and twirl her around.
Sophie comes over from the kitchen. “Did she laugh?”