it on my sheet so I wouldn’t get the codes mixed up. I repeated those actions for each one of you. So no, I don’t think I labeled them incorrectly. I can show you my notes if you want. You’re also welcome to do your own paternity test, of course.”
Fuck me. She’s right. I remember her jotting down notes in between each of us. Gabby’s always been incredibly capable, but this week we all learned she’s a powerhouse of organization.
I rake my hands through my hair. “No, sorry. I don’t doubt your attention to detail. I’m just trying to make sense of this.”
“You actually might want to do a formal paternity test, for legal reasons.”
I nod, not really hearing anything but the pounding of my heart.
The baby coos and giggles, snagging my attention. A little tuft of blonde hair sticks straight up from her head as she tries to wiggle out of Bree’s arms. Someone tied a bow on it, but now it’s hanging sideways.
She gives me a wide, toothless grin, and with my heart in my throat I realize, Holy shit, I have a daughter.
16
GABBY
Rider’s hair is sticking up on end from running his hands through it for the last ten minutes. It’s obvious he’s shellshocked.
The guys offer words of encouragement and pat him on the back and offer to help, but I’m not sure he’s processing any of this.
Bree gives me a look, and I shrug.
Am I supposed to do something? It was different when Poppy might have been my brother’s, but what now? I offered to help before we read the results because the guys looked like they were ready to hurl, but does Rider actually want my help?
And what about Miranda? Surely she’ll want to be a part of this. If the way she greeted him at Archer today is any indication, they’re more than just hookup buddies.
It makes me feel like an idiot for thinking his apology last weekend somehow meant more.
Not that it would’ve changed anything, I tell myself firmly.
But that sense of disappointment I haven’t been able to shake all evening since I saw them together suggests I’m not as apathetic as I’d like to be.
Ben gets up and crosses the room. “Thanks for helping this week,” he says when he reaches me. “At least now you don’t have to worry about all this baby stuff.” A pause. He rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry shit’s been weird between us.”
I nod, not expecting the apology. Even though he doesn’t explain why he’s been so distant, getting anything out of my brother feels like a win. He gives Rider a back smack before he disappears up the stairs.
Tank and Bree are whispering back and forth to each other and glance at Rider every few minutes. They don’t seem to want to break whatever spell he’s under.
Well.
He’s a father now. It’s not like he has a choice about it.
Unless he wants to give her up.
I shudder at the thought. He wouldn’t, would he? I mean, I know a lot of people give up children for adoption, but Poppy is so dang adorable. And he might be a poor college student right now, but he’s on the brink of being drafted into the freaking NFL. The world is his oyster. This baby will want for nothing in a few months. Surely he plans to keep her.
You have to convince him to keep her.
I begin to consider how to do that, but another voice in my head yells, This is none of your business, Gabriela! None whatsoever!
But what if helping Rider means the difference between Poppy going into foster care and ending up with complete strangers or staying here where we can all love up on her? Where I can keep an eye on her and make sure she’s being cared for properly?
Bree told me Rider wiggled out of his babysitting time slots this week, so he hasn’t had a chance to get to know her like the rest of us.
What did I expect, though? We’re talking about the captain of the football team, the star quarterback, Mr. Popularity himself. People bend over backwards for him left and right. I heard he had a crew of girls who took notes for him last spring when he had a minor wrist sprain. Internally, my eyes roll.
Guess it’s time for a wakeup call.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I take the baby from Bree and sit next to Rider. “Do you want to hold her? I