We eat in silence, but I’m all too aware of his presence. I still have so many questions, so much I want to know about why he showed up today with my brother, and before I realize it, the words are flying out of my mouth. “Why are you here, Tate?”
He slowly chews a bite of chicken before taking a sip of water. “Feeding you.”
I’m already shaking my head. “No, not that. Why did you come here today?” My eyes plead with his to just tell me what’s going on.
Tate sets his fork down and gives me his full attention. “Because when I saw that photo of your son, something inside me felt like I was being strangled. It was confusing, yet comforting. I wanted to see him in person and find out if my suspicions were correct.”
I drop my fork with a clatter. “Your suspicions?” I ask, irritated to no end.
“If he’s my son or not.”
I close my eyes and count to five. When I open then, they lock on the hazel ones across the table. “I’ve already told you he is,” I whisper, pain lacerating my heart all over again.
When I found out I was pregnant, I knew whose baby it was. There was only one possibility. I couldn’t ask my brother for his best friend’s phone number without throwing up every red flag known to man, so I sought him out on social media. No, not the best place to contact someone, but I was desperate. It’s not like I was gonna drop the baby bomb on Facebook, but I was at least looking for a way to contact him.
He told me to get lost.
It’s like my words register suddenly, and he becomes a little pale. “When? When did you tell me?” he asks. It’s not anger in his voice, but more confusion than anything.
“After I found out, Tate. I looked you up on social media. You told me it wasn’t yours and to go away or you’d involve your lawyers,” I state, recalling all those horrible feelings when I read his final message.
Tate suddenly stands up, the chair flying backward and falling with a crash. I sit, shocked, as he paces the kitchen floor and lets out a frustrated growl. His hands are in his hair, a sure sign of aggravation. “That wasn’t me.” His eyes are closed and his head hangs.
“What?”
He picks up the chair and settles back down, this time, directly beside me. “That wasn’t me, Ash. I don’t manage my social media. I have my PR team do it for me.”
Realization sets in. Could it be true? Was the person responding to me from Tate’s account really not him? I guess it would make sense as to why he was so cold. That or he’s an exceptional liar, and he’s covering his ass right now.
Tate reaches for my hand. I didn’t even realize mine was shaking until he holds it in his much bigger, warmer one. “Start at the beginning, Ash. Please.”
I tell him about moving to St. Louis and peeing on the stick. “I waited until after my first appointment before I reached out to you. You never replied to that message. After a few weeks, I tried again. This time, you responded, but with a simple denial. I reached out again, asking to meet with you face-to-face, but your response was a legal notification. You were going to sue me for defamation of character if I went public with my claim. You even offered me money to go away.”
I’m not sure when the tear fell, but I knew the moment it was caught. The rough pad of Tate’s thumb swipes across my cheek before threading into my hair. “I’m sorry, Ash. So fucking sorry,” he mumbles, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against mine. “I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t take the money. I didn’t want it. I could have pursued child support after proving paternity, but if you didn’t want your son, I wanted no part of you either.”
Our eyes meet again. “So you did it all yourself. Alone.”
I shrug. “It hasn’t been so bad. Sure, I get a little tired sometimes, but he’s worth it,” I reply with a smile on my lips.
Tate grins in return. “He is. I just wish I would have been here for you. I can’t believe Todd didn’t tell me.”
“I guess I should have tried harder to contact you, but I assumed it was you I was speaking to. I’m sorry.”
He’s already shaking his head. “No, please don’t apologize.”
“I should have just told my brother and gotten your number through him. I was prepared to do it after my first message didn’t get answered, but then you replied, and I thought you wanted nothing to do with us.”
He closes his eyes again. “Your brother would have killed me if he found out. Shit, it’s probably still going to happen.”
“I’m an adult,” I state, and even though I know my twin wouldn’t actually kill someone, this doesn’t bode well for their friendship.
“He’s always had a rule, and I broke it.”
“I was a rule?”
“More like a guideline. Don’t mess with you, plain and simple.”
My breathing becomes thicker as I recall that night at my brother’s place almost ten months ago. “But you did.”
His eyes darken. They remind me of that night, so full of desire and lust. “Yeah, I did. Turns out, it was a pretty damn good decision.”
I feel the blush heat my cheeks and glance down at my now-cold chicken. “So, where do we go from here?” I whisper.
Tate pushes my plate toward me. “Now, you eat, Sweetness. The rest, we’ll figure out as we go. But one thing is certain, Ash. You’re not alone anymore.”
Chapter Seven
Tate
“You have to move quickly. That little thing is like a firehose, waiting to spray.”
I turn and lock eyes with Ashtyn. Her words don’t exactly boost my confidence here. It’s my very first diaper change, and now I have to move quickly or risk getting peed on? I glance down at Rowan, who’s staring up at us with wide, hazel eyes. “Go easy on me, Champ. This is my first time.” Rowan doesn’t seem impressed with my pleas for leniency.
“Just have the fresh diaper ready. This one won’t be too bad. It’s only urine, but that little thing will go off with no notice.”
I halt, my hands poised on the little sticky tabs, and glance her way. “Stop calling it a little thing. He has my genes. No way is it little.” Then I throw her a panty-melting grin that causes a blush to creep up her neck and spread across her face. One hundred bucks says her chest is just as pink as the rest of her.
Ashtyn tries to brush off my cock reference, ignoring it completely. “Anyway, I’m just warning you. Be quick.”
I make sure the clean diaper and wipes are even closer and slowly pull the tabs. Little legs and arms move, which makes it harder yet, especially since the moment I pull down the soiled diaper, a water fountain of piss shoots out. “Shit!” I holler, replacing the diaper to stop the flow.
“I told you,” Ashtyn says through her laughter. “The good news is, he’s already peed. So you have a little more time to get him cleaned up and the new one in place now.”
“Swell,” I mumble, returning my focus on the task at hand. I use the wipes and clean his body. “See what I mean? My son,” I state, pointing down.
I’m smacked on the shoulder and laugh when she shakes her hand. “Ouch.”