What Makes A Father. Teresa Southwick
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out of her mouth. That made Jess sound like a slut. Maybe it was a little bit true, but that’s not who she was. Her sister liked men and sex. She’d been looking for fun, nothing more. “Men sleep around all the time and no one thinks less of them. But if a woman does it, she’s trash. Don’t you dare judge her.”
“I wasn’t judging—”
“Oh, please.” When a person was as tired as she was, that person had to dig deep for patience. Hers was dangerously depleted. She looked at him and, judging by the uncertain expression on his face, it was possible that there were flames shooting out of her eyes. “And why is this all on my sister? You were a willing participant. Who didn’t wear a condom.”
“I just wanted to talk,” he protested.
“Right. That’s what they all say.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “You should know that I’m not normally this abrasive, but I’m tired. And I was much more compassionate the first two times a potential father showed up—”
“What happened with them?”
“First one wasn’t a match. Number two finally came by a few days ago. I have his sample for the lab along with a legal document from his attorney relinquishing all rights to the babies in exchange for my signed agreement not to pursue him for child support should he be a match. I was only too happy to do that and send him responsibility-free on his way. Sarah and Charlie deserve to be wanted more than anything. They don’t need a person like that in their lives.”
“Prince of a guy.” Mason was still holding Charlie and lightly rubbed a big hand over the baby’s back.
Annie loved her sister but that didn’t mean she approved of her choices in men. “A few weeks before she gave birth, Jess had second thoughts and narrowed down potential daddy candidates to three. Before she could contact them, she went into labor and showed symptoms of the embolism. Tests confirmed it and the risks were explained to her. She got scared for the babies if something should happen to her and put in writing that I would be the guardian. It was witnessed by two nurses and is a legally binding agreement. No one really thought she would die, but fate didn’t cooperate. Now Charlie and Sarah are my babies and I will do anything and everything to keep them safe.”
“I’m a doctor. I took an oath to do no harm.”
“There are a lot of ways to damage children besides physically.” Annie knew from experience that emotional wounds could be every bit as painful and were the ones you didn’t have to hide with makeup or a story about being clumsy. “And I wasn’t implying that you would hurt them.”
“I would never do that,” he said fervently.
For the first time she noticed that he looked every bit as tired as she felt. And he was wearing a military uniform—if camouflage was considered a uniform. What was his deal? “When did you get back from Afghanistan?”
“A couple of hours ago. My family lives in Huntington Hills, but I haven’t seen them yet.”
“You came here first? From the airport?”
“Yes.”
It was hard not to be impressed by that but somehow Annie managed. The adrenaline surge during her outburst had drained her reserves and she wanted to be done with this, and him. “Look, if you’d please just do the DNA swab and leave your contact information for the lab, that would be great. Five business days and we’ll know.”
“Okay.” Gently, he put Charlie down in the crib.
Annie did the same with Sarah and miraculously the two didn’t immediately start to cry. “Follow me.”
They went to her small kitchen, where the sink was full of baby bottles and dishes waiting to be washed.
“I have the kits here.” She grabbed one from the counter and handed it to him. He seemed to know what to do.
Mason took the swab out of the tube and expertly rubbed it on the inside of his cheek for the required amount of time, then packaged it up and filled out the paperwork. “That should do it.”
“I’ll send it to the lab along with the other one.”
“Okay.”
“Thank you. Not to be rude, but would you please go?”
He started to say something, then stopped and simply let himself out the front door without a word.
Annie breathed a sigh of relief. The uncertainty would be over in five business days but somehow that didn’t ease her mind as much as she’d thought it would. After meeting Mason Blackburne, she wasn’t sure whether or not she wanted to share child custody with him. Not because he would be difficult, but because he wouldn’t. And that could potentially be worse.
“She researched pacifiers, Mom.” Mason stopped pacing the kitchen long enough to look at the woman who’d given birth to him. “I don’t know whether or not she’s a good mother, but both babies were clean, well-fed and happy. Well, one or the other was crying, but it was normal crying, if you know what I mean.”
“I do,” Florence Blackburne said wryly. “And it’s not like she staged the scene. She had no idea you were going to stop by.”
“That’s true.” He’d arrived home five days ago and told her everything. He’d started his job as an ER doctor and he was house hunting. None of it took his mind off the fact that he might be a father.
“That poor woman. Losing her sister and now raising two infants by herself.” His mom was shaking her head and there was sympathy in her eyes. “I don’t know what I would have done without your father when you and your siblings were born. And I only had one baby at a time.”
“Yeah. She looked really exhausted.” Pretty in spite of that, he thought. He remembered Jessica and Annie looked a lot like her. But their personalities were very different. Jess was a little wild, living on the edge. Annie seemed maternal, nurturing. Protective. Honest. The kind of woman he’d want to raise his children. If they were his children.
The lab hadn’t notified him yet, but this was business day number five and he kept looking at his phone to make sure he hadn’t missed the call.
“Checking your cell isn’t going to make the news come any faster. I’m sure the twins are yours.” His mother gave him her “mom” look, full of understanding and support.
She loved kids and had four of them, never for a moment letting on that she’d sacrificed anything on their behalf. Mason was wired like her and badly wanted kids of his own. The woman he’d married had shared that dream, and the heartbreak of not being able to realize it had broken them up. The third miscarriage had cost him his child and his wife—he’d lost his whole family. If the experience had taught him anything, it was not to have expectations or get his hopes up.
“If only DNA results happened as fast in real life as they do on TV,” he said.
“Did the babies look like you?” Flo asked. “Eye color? Shape of the face? That strong, square jaw,” she teased.
“They actually looked a lot like Annie. Their aunt. Hazel eyes. Blond hair. Pretty.” Something he didn’t share with his mother was that Annie Campbell had a very nice ass. Her baggy sweats had hid that asset, no pun intended, until she’d bent over to pick up a toy on the floor. There was no doubt in his mind that a shower and good night’s sleep would transform her into a woman who would turn heads on the street. “DNA is the only way to be sure.”
“That’s just science. It’s no match for maternal instinct. And mine is telling me that those babies are my grandchildren.”
“Don’t, Mom.”
“What?” she asked innocently.
“If you have expectations, you’re going to be let down.”