by Holly Jaymes
“I can’t trust her, mom.”
My mother rolled her eyes. “And you’ve never made a mistake?”
“I’ve never lied about something important.”
“Parker doesn’t seem to agree with you.”
I wanted to think it wasn’t the same, and yet, in his shoes, I supposed he’d see what I’d done as a betrayal. Even I’d seen it as a mistake. A mistake I made more than once.
“I’ll work with Hope, but don’t hold your breath about anything more,” I said.
After a shower and breakfast, I called a lawyer referred to me by my business attorney. Once again, having money paved the way and got me an appointment that afternoon.
It felt bizarre to be in a lawyer’s office talking about my child. I explained to the lawyer what was going on and asked what I needed to do.
“If you and the mother aren’t getting along and you're concerned about her placing the child for adoption, you can sign the Putative Father’s Registry. In Virginia, that would notify you if any adoption or termination of parental rights were done.”
“I want to be involved,” I said.
“Then you want to establish fatherhood. If the mother is on board, you can both sign Acknowledgement of Paternity. You’re sure you’re the father?”
“Yes.” Pretty sure. All of a sudden, I wondered if maybe she’d been with someone else. She didn’t tell me the baby wasn’t mine when I confronted her, but I didn’t give her much of a chance either.
“You can both sign the paper, and she should put you on the birth certificate.”
“Sounds straightforward,” I said, thinking this would be easier than I thought.
He nodded. “Arranging custody is harder. And of course, with rights comes responsibilities. You’ll be expected to pay. Someone with money like you will likely pay a lot.”
“I don’t mind supporting the child and the mother, but I don’t want to be taken advantage of either.”
“Sometimes, that can be hard to figure out. I can work with you on a fair offering based on what it costs to live and support a child in this area,” he said.
“If I think she’s taking advantage of me, can I sue for custody?”
“Do you think that will happen?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Normally I’d say no, but there’s a lot about her I misjudged. I just don’t want her taking lavish trips or buying a second home. If she needs money to care for the child or for a place to live and a car, I’m happy to pay for that.”
“Do you think she’s using the baby? Maybe set you up? If you think there will be a custody issue in the future, knowing all I can will help.”
I ran my fingers through my hair. It was one thing to accuse her of getting pregnant on purpose with my friends and family, but to do it in a legal setting, I didn’t feel certain. “I’m not sure.”
“Let me draw up papers, and we can see if she signs them acknowledging you as the father and go from there.”
“Okay. How soon can we have them?” I was eager to secure my rights.
“I can draw them up by tomorrow. They need to be signed in front of a witness. If she can come here, we can take care of that. I can meet and assess her. I have a lot of experience in this type of thing, and sometimes I can tell if a woman is using you or the child.”
“Sounds good.”
“How about we make a plan to meet Wednesday? Two?” he suggested.
“I’ll check with Hope, and let you know.”
“Excellent.”
I shook his hand and left the office. Now I had to talk to Hope. Not ready to hear her voice, I texted her.
Can you meet Wednesday to sign papers acknowledging me as the father?
Short and to the point.
Yes. Of course.
The text indicator dots moved on my screen, suggesting she was typing more. But then they stopped, and no new message appeared. So that was it.
I texted back the time and address. She’d see it was a law office, but we were signing papers establishing paternity, so she shouldn’t be too worried.
She sent back an “ok.”
Then as an afterthought, I texted.
Do you need money? Medical expenses? Living?
It was several minutes before she replied.
I don’t need anything from you.
The problem with texting was that it was sometimes hard to determine the tone. Was she pissed or merely telling me that she was fine?
I decided it didn’t matter.
I headed back to my mom’s house to pick up Duke and then he and I went back home. Once home, I went through all my financial statements and called my accountant. I wanted to have a clear sense of my money before Hope started coming after it.
Finally, I took a walk through my house looking for ways I needed to make it child-friendly, and pick a room for a nursery. I had a quick flicker of an idea to move Hope into the extension again. She’d have her own spot, but we’d both be close to the child. I could even give her the upstairs studio as her office. But as quick as the idea was there, I pushed it away. If she was close by, I might start to feel for her again, and I couldn’t afford to do that.
Book 3: Chapter 25—I don’t Know Him
I Don’t Know Him
Hope
I wasn’t sure what to make of Mitch’s texts. Clearly, he wanted to be sure he was listed as the father, and it hurt me that he thought I’d try to keep the child from him. It made me wonder what Parker had said to him. Had he threatened to take legal action to stop Mitch from seeing the baby? I hoped not.
The part asking if I needed money was what confused me. Was he serious and wanting to make sure I was able to live, or was he testing me to see if I was a gold digger? The annoyed part of me responded telling him I didn’t need anything from him. He didn’t answer back, and so I guessed that was that until Wednesday.
I was nervous about meeting him at a lawyer’s office. I considered asking Parker to go with me to read the papers but quickly changed my mind. Instead, I thought I should find another lawyer to go with me. First, I did research on the acknowledgment of paternity paperwork. It looked like a simple form, which made me wonder why a lawyer needed to do it. Apparently, most were signed at the hospital, but I guessed Mitch was eager to protect his rights. While it was annoying to think he needed to do it, I admired how dedicated he was to be a father.
In the meantime, I had a business to build so I could care for my child. While I was sure Mitch would provide financial support, it was important to me that I be able to care for the baby on my own. I didn’t want him or anyone thinking I got pregnant to get his money. Whatever money he gave me would go into a college fund. I wouldn’t use any of it for basic needs because I’d be able to provide that.
At some point, I’d want to buy a house with a yard, but I had a couple of years to do that. Surely, I could grow my business to afford it myself and not rely on Mitch to help. Of course, if it came down to what was best for the baby. I’d swallow my pride and take his help. But my goal was to support myself and the baby on my own.
I called my mom the next day to tell her about the appointment at Mitch’s lawyer. She started to say I should ask Parker to go, but then like me, changed her mind.
“Why don’t your father and I go? We’re not lawyers, but we can look over the document and be emotional support for you.”
“I need to look like I can support this baby on my own. How will it look if my parents come?”
“Like you have the support a single mother needs.”
She was right, and the truth was, I needed the support.
On Wednesday, I met my parents in front of the lawyer’s office.
“He’s serious about this, isn’t he?” My father said looking up at the fancy sign of the legal firm Mitch was using.
“He’s protecting his rights,” my mother said.
My father gave her a look.
“And we’re here to make sure he doesn’t take more than his fair share,”
she finished.
We walked into the office that looked like it catered to people with money. The décor was sleek, with lots of glass and dark wood.
We announced ourselves to the secretary who made a call on the phone. A few moments later, a middle-aged man in an expensive suit and three-hundred dollar haircut met us.
“Ms. Caldwell. Nice to meet you.” He looked at my parents. “You brought legal representation?”
“No. These are my parents.”
He studied me. “The paperwork is straight forward, but you can have your own lawyer if you like.”
“No. That won’t be necessary.”
“This way then,” he said extending a hand to show the way. “Mr. Sloane is here already.”
A shiver ran up my spine. I hadn’t seen Mitch since he’d confronted me at my house. I wondered how he’d act now.
“In here,” his lawyer said, opening a door leading to a conference room.
At first, I didn’t see Mitch, but once inside the room, I noted he was sitting at the table at the opposite end.
He saw me and stood. “Hope.” He sounded quite civil. He looked tired and pained. I hated that I was the cause of it.
“Mitch.” I wanted to run to him and tell him how sorry I was, but it seemed like a moot point.
He cocked his head when he saw my parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Caldwell.”
“Mitch.” My father said in the same non-affected tone.
“Hello Mitch,” my mother said with more warmth. I half expected her to go give him a hug and apologize for her children.
My parents and I sat across from Mitch.
“This is our notary,” the lawyer said of another woman who entered behind us. “She’ll be notarizing your signatures. Can I have your driver’s license or other ID, Ms. Caldwell?”
I pulled my driver's license out of my purse and gave it to the notary.
“I just have a few questions. They may seem a little insensitive, but they’re important,” the lawyer said as he sat next to Mitch.
My heart thundered in my chest. Was he going to ask personal questions that I didn’t want my parents to know about?
I nodded.
“Mr. Sloane here wants to acknowledge paternity of your unborn child.”
“Yes,” I said.
“You agree that he’s the father of your baby?”
“Yes.” I chanced a look at Mitch. He was watching me, but I couldn’t read his expression.
“How far along are you in your pregnancy?”
I shifted uncomfortably. “A few weeks. Six or seven.”
“Where were you six weeks ago?”
I looked at Mitch again. “I was staying at Mit—Mr. Sloane’s house.”
“How long were you there?”
“Three weeks.” I felt like I was in one of those legal dramas like The Good Wife or Perry Mason, being grilled until I confessed.
“And during that time, you engaged in sexual relations with Mr. Sloane.”
“Now wait a minute,” my father interjected. “Mr. Sloane says he’s the father. My daughter agrees. What’s with the third degree? Surely you don’t condone this, Mitch.”
“Mr. Caldwell, I hate to be indelicate, but this is a legal matter. It’s important that we have all the facts.” His lawyer spoke with little effect. In fact, he sounded bored. Like he’d said the same words over and over again to other clients who questioned his actions.
“He slept with my daughter, and she got pregnant. What other facts do you need?” my father demanded.
I took his hand. “It’s okay, dad.” I just wanted to sign the paper and get out before I died of heartbreak. To sit across from Mitch was more difficult than I could have ever imagined.
“Yes. I slept with Mr. Sloane.”
“Did you use birth control?”
“Jesus,” my father exclaimed.
“He did. Condoms.” I was mortified to have to talk about this in front of my parents. Mitch shifted in his chair, suggesting he wasn’t too thrilled about it either.
“The condom failed?”
I held my chin up. I’d get through this. “Yes.”
“Is it correct that you sheathed Mr. Sloane at the time it failed.”
My gaze shot to Mitch’s. What was he doing? I looked at my parents, wondering if they were as mortified as I was.
“Yes,” I said. I looked at Mitch again, unable to stop the tears from forming. Was this more than my acknowledging he was the father? Would this be used against me somehow in the future?
“At the time, you told Mr. Sloane it wasn’t a problem because of where you were in your cycle.”
“Now come on. The world would be significantly less populated if the rhythm method worked,” my mother said. “Mitch, what is this about?”
“Please direct your questions to me. Again, it’s just about establishing that my client is, in fact, the father of Ms. Caldwell’s unborn child.”
“They both say he is,” my father said.
“Ms. Caldwell. I know this is difficult. Is there any chance you were pregnant before you came to be at Mr. Sloane’s?”
“You bastard,” I said in a low nearly imperceptive voice. Mitch’s head dropped down. Good, I hope he felt like shit putting me through this.
“Based on what you told Mr. Sloane, the more fertile time was before you stayed with him.”
Goodness, the lawyer never stopped. Did he have a lump of coal where his heart was supposed to be?
Tears fell down my face, but I held my chin up. “No. Mr. Sloane was the only man I’ve been with.” I looked at his lawyer. “If he has doubts about his being the father, I’d be happy to accept and sign any waiver of his paternity.” I returned my gaze to Mitch. “I can raise this child on my own without him.”
He leaned forward. “I won’t be denied, my child.”
“Then stop asking me questions that suggest you think I’ve been sleeping around,” I snapped. I looked at the notary. “Where’s the paper? Let’s get this signed so I can leave. I’m told stress isn’t good for a baby.”
Mitch’s jaw tightened.
His lawyer started to ask another question but was interrupted.
“That’s enough,” Mitch said. “Let’s just sign the paper.”
The lawyer brought out the paper. “At the birth, Mr. Sloane will be listed as the father, so there will be no question.”
“I never had to do anything like this.” my father said.
“Were you married when your child was born?” the lawyer asked.
“Married at the time of birth, yes.”
“Then you’re the presumed the father. In this case, the woman and man aren’t married, so we need to establish paternity through legal means.”
“Leave it to a lawyer to get their grubby hands on something so sacred as childbirth,” my father quipped.
I signed the paper, got my driver’s license, and then stood. “Is that all?”
“We can make a copy if you like,” the lawyer said as Mitch signed it.
“I don’t need a copy.” I rushed out the door. I made it to my car before I started crying.
“Oh, honey,” my mother wrapped her arms around me. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Why was he like that? I’ve never tried to say he wasn’t the father or threatened to keep him from the baby. Why would he put me through that?” I couldn’t believe that Mitch could be so cold and calculating.
“Payback for not telling him about the baby?” my father suggested.
“Mitch didn’t like those questions either. Did you see his face?” my mother said.
Both my dad and I gaped her. “Whose side are you on?” my father asked.
“What? I’m on Hope’s of course. I’m just saying that Mitch didn’t like having to go through that either. Personally, I think he’s still in love with you.”
I scoffed. “He was never in love with me.” And if he was before, he wasn’t now. No man in love would have done that.
“I was
.” His strong voice reverberated through me. I spun around to see him standing just behind me.
He looked at my parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Caldwell.” He nodded toward them. “I’d like to know about any doctors’ appointments,” he said to me.
I nodded, unable to find my voice.
He looked at me for a minute longer then he turned and walked down the street.
“That was strange,” my father said.
“He said he loved you,” my mother said.
“He used the past tense.” I watched him as he reached his SUV. He turned his head looking my way. Our eyes caught for a moment, but then he broke the contact and got in his car.
“But his eyes say it’s very much in the present,” my mother said. “If you love him still Hope, don’t give up.”
I couldn’t figure out what my mother was seeing that I wasn’t. All I saw when I looked at Mitch, especially in his eyes, was pain and anger.
“Right now, my focus is on the baby and growing my business.”
“As it should be,” my father said. He helped me into my car. “You drive careful sweetheart. Whatever happens, you and that baby are loved. Remember that.”
“Thank you, dad.”
When I got home, I began to wonder if this was how my life was going to be for the next eighteen years; tense encounters with Mitch over our child. How was that going to impact our son or daughter’s wellbeing? Certainly, he would be able to tell that his father resented and didn’t trust his mother. Would time make it easier?
Deciding there wasn’t anything I could do about it now, I went to my home office and got to work on my business. My samples were in, and I needed to make more appointments with buyers to get them in stores.
When there was a knock on my door, I wondered if it was Parker ready to make up. He’d been such an ass over the last few days.
I peeked through the peephole, and my heart jumped into my throat.
I opened the door. “Mitch.”
Book 3: Chapter 26—Trying to Do Right
Trying to Do Right
Mitch
I tried to tell myself that Hope deserved that line of questioning by my lawyer, but as I headed out of town, guilt had me turning around. I didn’t want to be an asshole. I just wanted to protect my rights. I hadn’t realized he’d ask such personal questions. All he’d told me was that he needed to make sure all the legal requirements were met in terms of my being the father.
