“Her paternal grandparents have come forward, demanding a DNA test, and they’re suing for custody.”
Tamara fell into the chair closest to her. A tiny, hard-backed one. Mallory told her what Flint had been going throu
gh since she’d last seen him, at least the parts he’d shared with her. And only because he’d had to give Mallory’s name to the courts, who’d be contacting her as Diamond’s caregiver.
“Her father’s younger than Flint.” Tamara said the only thing she could focus on that didn’t make her feel like she was suffocating.
Wow.
Oh, God.
“The grandparents are in their late forties, young enough to participate fully in her activities as they raise her. They’ve been married for twenty-five years, have professional jobs and not so much as a speeding ticket. Their son was a nurse and in the army reserves. His only apparent mistake in life was falling in love with Alana and having sex with her while he was working in the prison infirmary.”
Mind speeding ahead now, Tamara stood as a list of supposed sins against Flint sprang to mind. She knew them well because she and her father had listed them as reasons to suspect him of theft.
She knew how easily that list could convince someone against him. And she and her dad hadn’t even had the restraining order to include in the mix.
Add to that, he’d just left his job—walking away from all the people who’d been loyal to him for almost a decade, some more than that, who would’ve been able to testify on his behalf. Including his client list.
He had no one. No family. No girlfriend. No one to stand up and tell the court what a travesty it would be to take that baby away from him.
“He’s a single man without a job,” Mallory said. “I was thinking, if your father took him back, at least that issue would be solved... I didn’t know he was already trying to do so.”
And Flint hadn’t returned Howard’s calls. Because the one thing Flint had never learned was to rely on others. To allow himself to need anything he couldn’t provide for himself. Or pay for.
Because he could never believe that anyone would help him.
He’d probably thought, in spite of Howard’s assurances otherwise, that her father was trying to get him to talk about the missing money. He’d have no way of knowing that Bill had admitted his gambling addiction, confessed everything. Some of it was confidential and couldn’t be told, and the rest... Her father wanted to apologize to Flint in person, man to man. Eye to eye.
“I’m sure he won’t value his pride over Diamond Rose,” she said. “He can’t. Especially once he finds out what’s been going on.” Apologizing to Mallory for abandoning her, she grabbed her bag and ran out.
She had to get to her father. To convince him to do whatever he had to—beg at Flint’s front door if it came to that, or camp out in the Bouncing Ball parking lot until he showed up there—to give him his job back, whether he wanted it or not.
That was for starters.
What she could do after that, she hadn’t figured out.
She just knew she had to focus. Get to her father.
And figure it out.
Chapter Nineteen
The last thing Flint had expected to see as he was coming out of the Bouncing Ball Wednesday morning was Howard Owens standing beside his Lincoln.
“I have nothing to say to you,” he said, getting close enough that the fob in his suit pocket unlocked the door. He rattled off the name of his attorney, telling Howard to say anything he had to say to Michael.
He got in his vehicle and pushed the button to lock the doors behind him.
DNA tests were expected that day or the next. They could’ve been in as early as Monday. Flint was considering every night he had with Diamond as a gift at this point.
Living from moment to moment.
And planning for a future with his baby girl, too. He had to, if he was going to stay sane.
He had to, to give Michael something to present to the judge. Something that could stand up to practically perfect grandparents.
About to put the SUV in drive, he glanced out the windshield and stopped. Howard was standing there, right in front of the vehicle. Arms crossed.