“Hmm. I know a few girls with that name, but you’re not one of them. Last name?”
Stupid, jackass, player! He knows a few girls by my name? He sleeps with so many people that he can’t remember me? How many women named Allie has he been with?
“Allie Thrash. We met in Cancun seven years ago,” I grind out, holding the fakest damn smile there has ever been.
He tilts his head, lazily eyeing me up and down. “And I guess I made an impression?” he asks, looking even cockier than he did five minutes ago.
“You left me with a daughter, so I’d say that’s one hell of an impression, Wren Jacobs.”
I’m not sure if I’m too pissed to be rational or if I have a case of verbal diarrhea, but the words fly out of my mouth all wrong. This was not supposed to happen in the supermarket next to canned peas, damn it. This was supposed to be mature and civil; I envisioned an office and a premeditated meeting. I was not going to lose my shit the way I am now. I’m not ready for this.
His face pales, but he shakes his head, taking a step back as though I’ve just slapped him.
I almost feel like I’m supposed to do some dramatic display of dropping a microphone and walking off right now.
“Prize. No. I’m not… You have me confused,” he says, his words running together and turning almost incoherent. “My last name is Prize. Not Jacobs.”
Now I really do want to slap him. Correction, that throat punch sounds more tempting than a mere slap.
“I know,” I bite out. “I didn’t know that seven years ago when I met you, though. You were with Tag Masters. Wish I could have remembered his last name, but considering he wasn’t in my bed, his last name wasn’t important. But, yeah, you’re definitely the Wren. Obviously I made less of an impression on you.”
He stumbles and grasps onto the side of the aisle, knocking over several cans of all sorts of things. If this wasn’t a completely life-altering moment, it would be comical.
But it is life-altering, and he’s actually handling it better than I expected. There’s no rage. I expected to be called a liar or something. I had a big speech lined up to counter any lying accusations, and I’m weird for wishing he’d give me a reason to say that speech.
“No,” he whispers again, seeming horrified, distant, and definitely in denial, but it’s more to himself than to me. I’ve definitely lost him. Damn it.
I really hope he doesn’t go into emotional shock or something.
Sighing, I turn back and grab my purse, then I pull out a paper and pen. While he stares out into space, I jot down my name, address, and phone number. I’m not standing here another minute. I can’t. I just… I can’t. Especially not here and not like this.
“Here,” I say, offering him the paper, but he’s so spaced out that he doesn’t seem to see it. Instead, I lay it in his lap before continuing. “There’s my information. Call me when you’re ready, and we’ll set up a paternity test. We’ll talk. We need to talk. If you don’t want to, then have the decency to let me know.”
I turn around, walking away, barely able to hold the tears back as I abandon the shopping cart and its contents, taking only my purse with me.
The second I reach the fresh air, it all hits me at once, and I hiccup out a sob that can’t be contained.
I just spent seven years of my life hating a man that doesn’t even remember me.
Chapter 2
WREN
Present day…
When the hell did my mother start locking her front door on a Sunday afternoon? I’m already running late, and she promised me she’d have all the groceries bought that I would need to feed a child. I apparently suck at being a father, because I can’t even manage to buy the food my kid likes.
My kid. That’s… I still haven’t wrapped my head around it.
“Mom?” I prompt when I walk in, but there’s no answer. The massive house doesn’t exactly carry sound very well, and I don’t have time to track her down.
If I’m late, Allie might damn well cut my balls off before cutting me off from Angel. But if I bring Angel over here to get the groceries, my mother will never let us leave. I need to figure out a way to bond with my daughter if I’m ever going to be in her life. And my mother hogging her attention isn’t the way to do it.
Jogging toward the kitchen, I make a mental note to get a new phone. Mine has been freezing up all the time, and I didn’t even realize it had gotten so late until I was rushing around. My phone was still stuck on one even after it was past two. Stupid piece of shit.