If … well, if things work out that way. Apparently his outrage over Trish’s little stunt trumps whatever issues he has about being a father. Oh, for heaven’s sake!” she said when she realized they were both giving her say-it-isn’t-so looks, “I didn’t agree to move in with him. Years of dealing with my mother’s unilateral decisions notwithstanding, I’m not about to blithely go along with one made by a man I barely even know. Especially when it involves sharing the kitchen at seven in the morning.”
Mercy winced in sympathy, while Cass muttered something about God saving them all from men’s honor complexes.
“Hah!” Mercy said. “I could name names….” She rolled her eyes.
“So can I,” Cass said. “Blake pulled the same number on me, remember? My second husband hadn’t even been dead a month and there my first husband was, asking me to remarry him. To save me.”
“Yeah, except you needed saving,” Dana said. “Alan had left you in debt up to your butt, you were pregnant, you had like a million people dependent on you—”
“Hardly a million, Dana.”
“Okay, so three. Four, counting the baby. Plus, you and Blake did still have a son together. A teenaged son at that. Oh, and another thing …” She selected a second donut, because she could. “Blake really, really wanted you back. I don’t think honor had a lot to do with it, frankly.”
“Chick’s got a point,” Mercy said.
“Still,” Cass said with a daggered looked toward Mercy, “why do they insist on equating ‘rescuing us’ with ‘doing something’?”
“Because they’re hardwired that way,” Mercy said. “The good ones, anyway. Protecting their womenfolk and children is what they do. And sometimes,” she went on before Cass, who Dana knew had suffered from her father’s obsessive overprotectiveness, could object, “we rescue them. Even if they don’t know it.” The brunette shrugged tawny shoulders. “Basically, I don’t see the harm in a little well-placed macho protectiveness, but that’s just me.”
“In any case,” Dana interjected, “that’s not what’s going on here. This isn’t about rescuing me, it’s about doing right by a six-month-old. And it’s not as if I’d be giving up my apartment or anything.” Wide-eyed, she looked from one to the other. “Oh, God … I really said that, didn’t I?”
“Hey,” Mercy said, taking a sip of her rudely unskinny latte with gobs of whipped cream, “if it were me, I’d be over there so fast it’d make his head spin.” When both Cass and Dana gawked at her, she shrugged. “The guy’s loaded, right? So we’re probably not talking some crumbling old adobe in the South Valley. And let’s face it, sweetie …” She leaned over and patted Dana’s hand. “You live in a shoebox. Besides, if the man wants to help take care of the kid, why not?”
“Because nothing’s settled yet?” Dana said.
“And the longer he has to mull things over before the paternity issue is settled, the more chances he has to change his mind. Trust me, honey. Giving a man time to think is never a good idea.”
Dana’s gaze swung to Cass, who lifted her shoulders. “I’m afraid I have to cede that point to her. And you do live in a shoebox. Of course,” she said, swirling the remains of her coffee around in her cup, “you could always move back in with your parents.”
“Like hell,” Dana said, and Cass smiled.
“So when will C.J. know for sure whether he’s the father?” she asked.
“In a few days, depending on the lab’s turnaround. He had an appointment for first thing this morning. He, uh, decided to go ahead and submit … samples for both tests now, rather than wait on the … you know, before initiating the paternity test. As a matter of fact, I have to take Ethan when we finish here to let them swab the inside of his cheek for the DNA sample. What?” she said at Mercy’s head shake.
“I think the word you’re looking for is semen?”
Cass choked on her coffee while Dana blushed. “We’re practically strangers,” she said in a whisper. “Talking about his …”
“Swimmers?” Mercy supplied.
“… just seems a little … personal at this point.”
“And yet, somehow, you’re not still a virgin. Amazing.”
“So still no word from Trish?” Cass asked. Bless her.
“Nope. But C.J.’s got her social security number from her employee records, he said he might have someone see if they can find her that way. He wants some answers. So do I.” Her eyes burned. “I never realized how much I hated being taken advantage of before this happened. And you know what’s most annoying about this whole thing? The unsettledness of it. So what happens if I take care of Ethan for a few months, or a year? Or more? And then Trish waltzes back and decides she’s changed her mind? Not only have I put my own life on hold during the interim, but how is this good for Ethan? It kills me to think that right when everybody starts thinking in terms of permanent, Trish’ll have a change of heart and we’ll all the get rug yanked out from under us.”
Dana caught herself, flushing with embarrassment. Because her outburst hadn’t been only about Ethan, although it was true—withholding part of herself from the child, in case she lost him, wasn’t even an option. She simply wasn’t made that way. Withholding part of herself from C.J., however, was another issue entirely. Yes, falling for him would be beyond stupid, but, like every other woman in the known universe, stupid was not as alien a concept as she might have wished.
And if she did end up moving in with him, maybe sharing living space would knock those stars right out of her eyes. With any luck, he put on all that charm and suaveness like one of his thousand-dollar suits, shucking them the minute he got back home, revealing the real throwback lurking underneath the public persona. Maybe C.J.’s living alone was actually a blessing to womankind the world over.
Okay, so it was a long shot. But you never knew, right?
Then Lucille, Cass’s former mother-in-law, tottered out onto the patio in platform sandals, clutching a squirmy, Onesie-clad Jason to her nonexistent bosom. “Somebody wants his mommy,” the blazing redhead said as Cass quickly took her infant son from his grandmother. “And yours,” she said to Dana, “is still sacked out in the middle of my bed like somebody slipped him a mickey. Hey, donuts! Don’t anybody tell Wanda,” she said, reaching over and snagging one, “or my tuchus is in a sling for sure.”
But Ethan wasn’t hers, Dana thought with a prick to her heart, only half listening as her partners finally got the business discussion back on track. Because for all Trish’s tenuous grasp on reality, she’d still clearly taken good care of her baby. Yeah, she’d freaked, as Trish was wont to do, but still, that it had taken her six months to reach her breaking point said a lot.
Namely, that in all likelihood she would change her mind. Maybe tomorrow, maybe months from now. But eventually she’d come back for her child, leaving Dana with nothing but memories … and an ever-widening hole in her heart. And then, to make matters ten times worse, there was C.J.’s offer to consider.
If he turned out to be Ethan’s father.
If Trish didn’t
