“I didn’t want to tell you at first,” she started. “I’m four months along, and I didn’t say anything else because I didn’t want you to be involved after the way you hurt me.” The way I hurt her?! What a load of shit. “But then I realized, you’re this baby’s father and it deserves its dad. I had to tell you, so I did. I’m glad you came.”
“I didn’t come here to be some happy family with you, Alia. I came here to determine whether or not you were really pregnant, and now that I see that you are, I need to figure out if I’m actually the father,” I said.
Alia scowled. “I knew you would say that after all that horrible stuff you accused me of that wasn’t true.” She pulled a piece of paper from her jeans pocket, unfolded it and handed it over. “It’s the results of a Non-Invasive Prenatal Paternity test, proving you’re the father.”
I grabbed the slip of paper from her and read it over. It confirmed that, within a margin of 1% error, she was the mother of the baby, and I was the father. I couldn’t believe it. “How did you do this?” I asked. “Don’t you have to have a sample of my DNA for this?”
“I had it,” she replied. “From back when you asked me to provide a sample of my blood to make sure I was clean a year ago before you would become intimate with me again. Remember, I told you I’d only do it if you did it to prove we were both being honest, so you did and we gave each other’s doctor’s access to the samples.”
“But that was in Vegas,” I said, trying to poke holes any place I could, even though it was seeming more and more hopeless.
“I had it run in Vegas.” She pointed out the Las Vegas address at the top of the page. “The baby is yours, Carson.”
I backed myself down into the nearest chair I could find and just sat staring at the test. I felt sick to my stomach and my head was dizzy. I wanted to continue to doubt what she was saying and call her on her lies, but I couldn’t find any more questions to ask. Her explanations were perfectly reasonable, and if everything she was saying was true, then so was the fact that her baby was mine.
Was I going to be a father? Worse, to Alia’s baby?
Sascha
I sat in Ryland’s office with Ian and Ryland, going over all of our texts and calls to Carson that had gone unanswered. It didn’t make any sense. With how well things were going, why would he suddenly try to ghost us? It just didn’t seem right.
“I’m really getting worried,” I said finally.
“You don’t think something bad happened to him, do you?” Ian asked.
“No, I saw him yesterday, remember?” I replied. “He was already distressed by that point, so what happened had to have happened yesterday morning.”
Ryland had a concerned hunch to his brow. “I spoke with him in the morning and everything was fine. It literally must have happened immediately after he and I spoke. What could happen that quickly that would cause this sort of behavior?”
“You guys know him better than I do,” I said. “He’s not caught up in anything, is he?”
“Carson?” Ian asked. “That guy is the biggest stickler for the rules I’ve ever met. He pays all of his bills ahead of schedule, has never done any kind of drugs and even follows the speed limit.”
“He once tore me to shreds because I didn’t want to chase after a wrapper that the wind had blown from my hand on the strip, and told me my litter was going to ruin the environment. On the Las Vegas strip. It’s more litter than street,” Ryland explained. “In short, no, he wouldn’t have been caught up in anything.”
“What then?” I asked. “Oh, wait! Ryland, did you tell me that he prefers to just carry around one card, so his business account and personal account are linked?”
“Yes,” Ryland replied.
“So, can you see his bank records. Maybe he bought something that will give us some idea of what happened, or at least where he was?” I said.
Ian kissed my cheek. “You’re brilliant.”
Ryland set to work immediately logging into Carson’s financial information while Ian and I ran around to look over his shoulder. Ian pointed at one charge down the list a bit. “Ha, that’s the slutty secretary outfit he bought you. We should do that again.”
“Can you focus?” I snapped.
“Sorry,” Ian said.
“Here,” Ryland said. He pointed to a charge near the top of the statement. “A one-way flight to San-Francisco?” He sat back in his chair and looked up at Ian and I. “Why would he do that?”
“Oh no,” Ian huffed.