Hope gave her mom a halfhearted smile and returned the hug.
“Found one.” Aggie pulled a pamphlet out of the pencil drawer and tromped over to Dylan in her knee-high rubber boots.
“Here.” Aggie pressed the pamphlet into Dylan’s hand, then she tapped on the front of it. “Here’s the 411 on this place. We’re always looking for volunteers. Do you have any horse experience?”
Dylan looked at the pamphlet. “Actually, I do.”
“Perfect! We can always use another volunteer with some horse sense,” Aggie said to him, hands resting on her squared hips. Then to Mackenzie, she said, “Well—let’s get.”
While Dylan skimmed the pamphlet quickly, it occurred to Mackenzie that she had just survived a moment that she had dreaded, and worried herself sick about, for years. Dylan and Hope had met and the world hadn’t fallen off its axis. It gave her reason to believe that when the truth about their relationship came out, things would be okay for all of them.
Dylan folded the pamphlet and tucked it into his front pocket.
“Are you going to volunteer?” Hope asked him.
Mackenzie and Hope were standing directly in front of him now, arm in arm, the close bond between mother and daughter on display. It didn’t surprise him that Mackenzie had turned out to be a dedicated and attentive mother. The way she had always taken care of every living thing around her when they were young, he didn’t doubt it had been an easy transition into motherhood.
“I don’t know.” Dylan shifted his eyes between mother and daughter. “Maybe.”
“You should.” Hope tucked some of her hair behind her ear. “It’s really fun.”
From the doorway, Aggie rattled her keys. “We’re burning daylight here! Let’s go!”
“We’re coming,” Mackenzie said to Aggie, then to Dylan, “Thank you, Dylan. I’m sure you had a lot of things to do today. I hope this didn’t put you behind schedule too much...”
“I was glad I could help.” Dylan found himself intrigued, once again, by Mackenzie’s unique lavender-blue eyes.
“Well...thank you again.” Mackenzie sent him a brief smile. “Come on, kiddo. Aggie’s already got the truck running.”
“Nice to meet you, Hope,” Dylan said.
“Bye.” Hope lifted her hand up and gave a short wave.
Dylan waited for Mackenzie and Hope to turn and head toward the door. As Hope turned, something on the very top of her left ear caught his eye. Instead of following directly behind them, Dylan was too distracted to move. Dylan’s eyes narrowed and latched on to Hope as he reached up to touch a similar small bump at the top of his own left ear.
“Are you coming, Dylan?” Mackenzie had paused in the doorway.
“What?” Dylan asked, distracted.
“Are you coming?” Mackenzie repeated.
Dylan swallowed hard several times. He couldn’t seem to get his mouth to move, so he just nodded his response and forced himself to remain calm. Hands jammed into his front pockets, Dylan followed them out. He watched as Mackenzie and Hope piled into Aggie’s blue long-bed dual-tire truck. Aggie backed out, Mackenzie waved goodbye and Dylan’s jumbled thoughts managed to land on one very disturbing truth: the only other time he had ever seen a small bump like Hope’s was when he was looking at himself in the mirror.
* * *
Instead of heading to the studio, which was his original plan, Dylan drove home on autopilot from the barn. His mind was churning like a hamster on a hamster wheel, just going around and around in the same circle. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember if he’d used a condom when he’d slept with Mackenzie. He had always been religious about it, but he hadn’t expected to sleep with anyone at the wedding. He had still been licking his wounds from his breakup with Christa, and ending up in Mackenzie’s hotel room that night had been a completely unplanned event. And, unless Mackenzie was in the habit of carrying condoms, which seemed out of character, there was a real good chance they’d had unprotected sex that night. In that case, it was possible, highly possible that Mackenzie’s daughter was his child.
Dylan pulled into the garage and parked next to his black Viper. He jumped out of his car and headed inside. He walked straight into the downstairs bathroom, flipped on the light and leaned in toward the mirror. He touched the tiny bump on his ear with his finger. He hadn’t been imagining it—Hope’s bump matched his. What were the odds that another man, the one who’d fathered Hope, would have the same genetic mark?
“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Dylan said as he left the bathroom. He went into the living room and pulled open the doors of the custom-built bookcases. He knelt down and started to search through the books on the bottom shelf. He found what he was looking for and pulled it off the shelf. His heart started to thud heavily in his chest as he sat down in his recliner and opened the old family photo album. On the way home, an odd thought had taken root in his mind. There was something so familiar about Hope and he couldn’t get a particular family photo, one of his favorites, out of his mind.
Dylan flipped through the pages of the album until he found the photo he’d been looking for. He turned on the light beside the recliner and held the photo under the light.
“No...” Dylan leaned over and studied the photo of his mother and his aunt Gerri sitting together on the porch. His mom had to be around twelve and Aunt Gerri looked to be near eight or nine. Hope was the spitting image of Aunt Gerri. Yes, she had Mackenzie’s coloring, but those features belonged to his family. That bump on Hope’s ear came directly from his genes. He’d stake his life on it.
“No...” Dylan closed his eyes. A rush of heat crashed over his body, followed by a wave of nausea. He had a daughter. He was a father. Hope was his child.
What the hell is going on here?
“Babe!” Jenna came through the front door carrying an empty tote bag over her shoulder. “Where are you?”
“In the den.” Dylan leaned forward and dropped his head down.
“There you are...” Jenna dropped her bag on the floor. She climbed into his lap and kissed him passionately on the mouth.
“I’ve missed you, babe.” Jenna curled her long legs up; rested her head on his shoulder.
“I’ve missed you, too,” Dylan said in a monotone.
“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Jenna asked.
Dylan reached over with his free hand and shut the album. “I was just checking something out for Aunt Gerri.”
“Be honest.” Jenna unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. “Are you upset with me?”
“Why would I be upset with you?” Dylan felt suffocated and wished Jenna wasn’t sitting on him, but he didn’t have the heart to push her away.
“Because I’m going to be staying with Denise in LA...didn’t you get my message?”
Dylan
