style="font-size:15px;"> “This is a problem,” Claire said.
Gannon agreed. “Under Texas law, any children born during a marriage are legally the offspring of the husband, unless and until proved otherwise. Meaning court-ordered DNA tests are going to be necessary.”
“Why court-ordered?” Wyatt asked, his impatience matching Adelaide’s. “Can’t we just have them done on our own?”
“Not if you want them to be part of any legal record,” Gannon said. “When DNA tests are court-ordered, a strict chain-of-custody procedure is followed, ensuring the integrity of the samples. Everyone who has contact with them has to sign. This protects against tampering, or ill-use.”
Made sense.
“Then court-ordered it is,” Adelaide said grimly, as Wyatt nodded.
“Luckily, we can formally request this online.” Gannon was already typing. “I’ll follow it up with a call to the judge to make sure it goes through immediately.”
“While you do that, I’ll call my cousin Jackson McCabe, who is chief of staff at Laramie Community Hospital, and ask him to write the medical orders for the blood tests.” Claire rose, cell phone to her ear. “And arrange to have them done as soon as possible.”
Not that it would matter, Wyatt thought, as Claire stepped into the next room and Gannon, when finished, walked out onto the front porch. They all knew what the tests were going to reveal. Once that happened, he and Adelaide would go their separate ways.
Forever.
* * *
UNABLE TO SIT still a moment longer, Adelaide rose, gathered the mugs and took them to the kitchen sink. “I wasn’t finished with that,” Wyatt called after her.
No one had been, Adelaide knew. But she needed something to do before she exploded with tension. “Hold your horses,” she said over her shoulder. “You’ll get a fresh mug in a minute, and more hot coffee to go with it. Unless you’d prefer something more dainty.” She turned his way to give him a too-sweet look. “Like tea?”
He shot her a deadpan look.
They both knew he hated tea. All kinds.
He didn’t like iced coffee, either.
Or at least he hadn’t.
What if he had changed?
Then again... Doubtful.
Gannon walked back in, just as she sat four fresh mugs and a platter of cookies on the table. “We’ve got the court order.”
Claire returned, too. “Jackson expedited everything on the hospital’s end. The hospital lab will be open until eight this evening, so you can both go over now if you like.” She paused. “If you want to write this down...?”
Adelaide plucked a notepad and pen from the charging station, then returned to the table, carafe in hand. She slid the former across the table to Wyatt.
He ignored her helpful gesture. “I’ll just type it in.” He pulled out his smartphone, gaze trained on the oversize screen, paused again, then brought up the appropriate menu.
Just scribbling the info on paper would have been faster. Then again... “It’s probably best,” Adelaide quipped, in an effort to lighten the mounting exasperation. “No one can read his chicken scratches anyway.”
Wyatt squinted at her, his expression partly annoyed and the rest inscrutable.
“Unless something’s changed?” she continued, determined to be just as provoking and ornery as he was being.
It hadn’t just been the love notes he’d passed to her in class she hadn’t been able to decipher. It had been anything and everything he wrote. Worse, he had seemed to take perverse delight in everyone else’s frustration. Just as he was enjoying her impatience now. She didn’t know why he had to be such a pain sometimes.
“You’ve taken a class in penmanship...?” she taunted lightly, aware they had temporarily reverted to their worst selves from their teenage years.
“You wish.” Smugly, Wyatt looked at Claire, his fingers poised over the keyboard on his man-size smartphone. “Ready when you are.”
Barely suppressing her own exasperation, Claire returned to her own handwritten notes. “The tech who’s going to be doing the test is Martie Bowman. The outpatient lab is on the first floor of the main building of the hospital, in the east wing. Suite 111.”
Wyatt quickly typed in the information. “Do you want to email that to me, too?” Adelaide asked.
“Not necessary,” Wyatt said. “I’ve got it.”
He was also as impossibly chauvinistic as ever. Adelaide sighed. “How long until we have the results?”
“They’re going to put a rush on it. So three or four days at most.”
“What about the rest of it?” Adelaide asked.
“It would be advisable to proceed with the divorce only when the DNA results are back,” Gannon said.
Adelaide decided to give it one last try. “Are you sure it has to be divorce? Can’t we remedy this mistake—” and it had been a big one, the biggest of her life “—some other way? Maybe just invalidate the marriage on some technicality, or...I don’t know...” She was grasping at straws, and she knew it.
Wyatt grimaced. “I agree. I’d prefer to find another way to end this, too.”
“There isn’t one,” Gannon decreed.
“You’ve not only consummated the marriage, but had children during the term of the union, which has lasted nearly ten years,” Claire reminded sagely.
Gannon agreed. “Like it or not, divorce is the only way to dissolve your marriage.”
* * *
NO SOONER HAD Claire and Gannon left them to discuss their pending trip to the hospital lab than a wail sounded on the baby monitor. A second swiftly followed.
Adelaide looked at the alarmed expression on Wyatt’s face. Suddenly, she was in no hurry to have cheeks swabbed or blood drawn. At least with him standing right next to her. “I’ve got to feed the twins, so...” She waved him off. “If you want, you can go ahead to the hospital without us.”
He stood firm. “I prefer we all go together. Just get it done.”
It wasn’t as if they didn’t already know the results.
Irritated, she took the stairs quickly, as the cries quickly escalated to a fever pitch. “Well, some things won’t wait.”
He lagged behind at the foot of the stairs. “How long...?”
Adelaide threw the words over her shoulder. “If you want to make it fast, then give me a hand, cowboy.”
Never
