Kellan isn’t police or FBI or with any other government agency like that, but he has connections that go deeper than anything I have as a thriller author. Connections our family and friends aren’t allowed to ask him about.
I doubt even Emily—our close friend and his office assistant—knows the full extent of his connections.
Kellan gives me an on-it nod, and we walk toward his Trailblazer in the driveway. “What about Zara? You think she knows about Peony?”
“She might. But if she did, she only would have known Kenda was pregnant. She would’ve told me if she suspected I was the baby’s father.”
I pull out my phone as Kellan drives away.Fuck.Three months and three weeks. That’s all the time I have left untilUntold Mercyis due to my editor. The time frame was tight before finding out I might be the father of an eighteen-month-old, but now…
How the hell am I supposed to juggle both the deadline and being a father—a dad to a toddler who’s scared of me?
I google information on paternity tests. There are two types. One requires a blood sample. The other involves swabbing of the inside of the mouth.
The first test is recommended for legal purposes and is done in a medical office. The second test will be useless if I want to challenge Athena’s claim in court, but it will also be less stressful for Peony.
If the swab test results are negative, but Athena wants to still argue I’m Peony’s father, I’ll have to go through the hassle of getting blood work done. But for now, the swab test is enough.
I order the test online. The kit will arrive in a few days. It will take up to a week to get the results.
Next, I call one of the hotels in town. “Hi, I need a room for an adult and toddler for…” What—a week? Until I get the results? Or two weeks, so if Peony is my daughter, I have time to get her bedroom ready?
In the meantime, am I banishing Athena and Peony to a hotel room and letting them fend for themselves? That would be the simplest thing to do with my looming deadline.
Shit.I spend long hours on the computer when writing—especially when I have a fast-approaching deadline. So how exactly will this work? Kenda urged me to keep Athena on as Peony’s nanny. Did she mean as a live-in nanny, or would Athena rather live somewhere else and show up during regular work hours?
“Hello?” a female on the other end of the line asks. “Are you still there?”
“Sorry. I need the room for three nights. But I might need to extend it.” Three days should give Kellan enough time to see if Athena has a police record or any outstanding warrants.
“Will you need a crib or a cot?”
“A crib.” I give the woman the necessary information and my credit card number. She confirms the room will be ready in an hour.
With those two essential to-do items checked off, I rejoin Peony and Athena in the living room.
The container of kuku paka still sits on the island counter that separates the living room from the kitchen. My taste buds beg for a mouthful of the spicy food, a lick of the spoon.
“I’ve booked a hotel room for three nights for you and Peony. I can drive you there after lunch.” I remove an open jar of Alfredo sauce and ablock of white cheddar from the fridge. “Does Peony like macaroni and cheese?”
“Yes. It’s one of her favorite dishes.”
“I’m not big on cooking,” I warn Athena. Usually I just whip up something quick for myself or grab food from Picnic & Treats. “This will probably be nothing like the mac and cheese she eats.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Athena winces as if not believing her own words. “And I can cook. Nothing fancy, ’cause I’ll be taking care of Peony. I mean, assuming you keep me on as her nanny.”
I take in the way Peony is clutching her panda and clinging to Athena, wide, frightened eyes trailing my every move.
“Once I have the paternity results, I’ll draw up an employee contract for you.” After everything Peony has been through, it doesn’t make sense to take away the one person who knows her best. Plus, I don’t have time to interview for a new nanny. I need to focus on my manuscript. Fortunately, I’m currently in the right place to handle the expense of a nanny. I’ve made some smart investments over the past few years. For now, I’m in a good financial position to hire someone to look after a kid of mine. That might change if I don’t get the book finished in time.
I pull out a bag of macaroni from the pantry. “Do you want to work as a live-in nanny? Or will you be looking for somewhere else to stay?”
“Live-in nanny.”
Thank Christ for that.I’m not ready to be thrown headfirst into being a single parent without a safety net. Especially not with a child I’ve known less than an hour and who looks like she’s on the verge of a panic attack every time I get close to her.
“What does the paternity test involve?” Athena asks, carrying Peony into the kitchen.
I explain the process and how things will go for the next few days. “You and Peony showing up on my doorstep couldn’t have come at a worse time. I have a book deadline coming up soon.”
