Call Her Mine (Harmony Pointe #1)- Melissa Foster Page 0,49

him, taking him to the library, and dragging his ass outside to help with one chore or another—raking leaves, washing cars, fixing the porch steps. There were dozens of odd jobs that Ben had found annoying at the time, when he would rather have been playing with his friends, but those were also the things that had taught him to be a responsible adult. His list came easily.

Show her unconditional love.

Build her self-esteem. Make sure she knows she’s “enough.”

Discipline with a strong lesson and never a harsh hand.

Include her in everything so she learns about the world.

As he made the list, he realized he didn’t need to re-create the wheel. What he needed was to speak to his father.

If anything, he’d always imagined it would be one of his sisters having to break unplanned-pregnancy news to his parents. He sat back, breathing deeply, readying himself to hear disappointment in his father’s voice. He grabbed his phone and pushed to his feet, heading to the bedroom to check on Aurelia and B. Aurelia was sprawled across the bed, her arms spread out to the sides, legs tangled in the sheets. She was wearing his shirt, which was bunched around her waist, and a pair of pink panties that made his body hot. Guilt tightened like a noose around his neck. Was it fair to drag her into all this? He knew how exhausted she was. He also knew she loved B as much as he did, even after only a few days.

But was it fair?

What constituted fair when he couldn’t imagine a life without Aurelia by his side? When there was no other woman he’d ever want to raise his child with him?

He peeked at B, and his heart took another hit. She lay sleeping with her tiny mouth open, arms fisted beside her head. Maybe he should have sent Aurelia home the second she’d discovered B, because Aurelia had never stood a chance. It was impossible not to love his baby girl.

He pulled the bedroom door mostly closed and went outside, filling his lungs with the brisk morning air. The sun had barely breached the horizon, spreading ribbons of orange and red over the mountains and reminding Ben of the early hour. He debated waiting to call, but he wanted to speak to his father without having to juggle B or leave the room when Aurelia was awake.

“Ben?” his father answered groggily. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Sorry to call so early. I’m sorry to wake you guys. I just need to talk.” This is what being a father is, taking your son’s call at the break of dawn and immediately worrying about him.

“It’s all right. Hold on.” Ben heard his father tell his mother everything was fine and that he’d be right back. He pictured his father stepping from the bed wearing his standard nighttime attire—striped pajama pants and a white T-shirt—his salt-and-pepper hair standing on end.

He heard a door open and close, and then his father said, “Okay, Ben. What’s going on?”

He’d spent a lifetime trying to be the honest, thoughtful man his father was. He’d screwed up many times, as people did, but he wanted to make his father proud. He felt the most astonishing mix of pride, for being that amazing baby girl’s father, and disappointment in himself, for having to admit that the beautiful baby girl sleeping in the other room hadn’t been planned. Those emotions slayed him.

“I . . . um . . .” He closed his eyes, debating not telling his father until he saw him Sunday, but he recalled something his father had told him when he was a teenager. Even the ugliest truth is prettier than the most beautiful lie. Hoping he wouldn’t disappoint him too badly, he said, “I just found out that I have a daughter.”

Silence stretched over the line.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry. I thought you said you just found out you have a daughter.”

“I did. I do.” Ben explained how they’d found the baby and what had transpired since.

An incredulous laugh came through the phone. “I thought we dodged that bullet when our girls became adults.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Ben shook his head. “Just what I needed to hear. I know I fucked up.”

“No, Ben. You fucked, obviously, but you didn’t fuck up. It’s a baby, not a disease, and in our family babies are always a good thing.”

Tears stung Ben’s eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “Thanks, Dad. I needed to hear you say that.” He looked