He nods and goes quiet, the way he always does when he’s puzzling something out. “The condom must have broken, Jonah. I can’t imagine Shari would lie about something like that?”
I plant my elbows on my knees and rest my forehead in my hands as my heart beats triple time against my ribs. “Yeah, I guess.” Little hungry gulping sounds fill the silence, and the pounding in my head subsides slightly. I look at the baby.
Am I really her father?
“I’m not equipped to take care of a child,” I say. Jesus, I was an only child growing up, and pretty much catered to by a doting mom. I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I’ve never had to care about anyone or anything but myself, and I’d call my mother to help right now but she and Dad are away on holiday for the next couple weeks.
“No, but I know who is equipped,” Zander says.
I lift my head to find Zander feeding the baby with one hand and digging his phone from his back pocket with the other.
“Who?” I ask.
“Quinn.”
The invisible belt squeezing my chest eases, and I nod. As a daycare teacher, Zander’s younger sister might be equipped to help, but that doesn’t mean she will. She doesn’t even like me. Why would she step up to the plate to help out?
I listen to the one-sided conversation, and when Zander ends the call, I hold my breath, praying the news is good.
“She’s on her way.”
Air rushes from my lungs. “Thank fuck.”
“Hey, watch your language in front of the child.”
“Shit, right.”
Zander glares at me, until footsteps on the stairs catch our attention.
“Zander?” Liz asks hesitantly as her gaze moves around the room, settling on the little pink bundle in his arms.
“She’s not mine,” he says to the only girl he’s ever been serious about. “She’s Jonah’s.”
“You’re kidding me.” She plunks herself down beside Zander. “I had no idea you had a daughter, Jonah.”
“That makes two of us,” I say.
Liz gathers her hair and pulls an elastic from her wrist to tie it up. “Who’s the mother?” she asks.
I open my mouth but Zander answers for me. “Shari,” he says. He takes the bottle from the baby’s mouth and puts her over his shoulder. Jesus, he’s a natural with her. Then again, his mother left when he was young, leaving her two children behind. Quinn was just an infant herself, and at four years old, Zander had to take on a lot of responsibility. I’m sure feeding his baby sister was one of them.
“Watch and learn, Jonah.” He taps the baby’s back, Daisy lets out a loud burb. Christ, she could put a locker room full of hockey players to shame. Zander chuckles.
“Does she have a name?” Liz asks.
“Daisy,” I say, and Liz makes an aww sound.
She touches the baby’s little hand. “That’s so pretty.” She looks at the baby, then at me. “She kind of looks like you, Jonah.”
“She looks like Winston Churchill,” Zander says, and Liz slaps him.
“That’s awful. She’s beautiful.”
Zander cradles her in his arms again, and now that she has a full belly, she falls asleep.
I look at the bundle all wrapped up in a pink blanket. No way. Now way can I do this. I try to breathe through a fresh burst of panic. But now suddenly I can’t seem to fill my lungs.
“She needs a crib,” Zander says.