“Hello,” the cop reminds us of his presence. “I need identification of the child’s father right now.”
Chapter 42
Cormac
After Darragh shows identification that matches the fax the cop had, he seems satisfied and accepts that I said I was the father, so there wouldn’t be a delay in treatment. That and all the guards staring him down made him leave before he shit himself.
If he’s been on the job in Astoria more than a day, he knows who Ana is.
“I’m taking Scarlett home,” I tell my brother and steer her toward the Quinlan SUV. “I’ll call you later for an update.”
Good luck,he mouths to me.
I’m gonna need it…
We ride back to Manhattan in silence. Scarlett can’t even look at me, and now I feel sick. She vibrates with disbelief at hearing me tell a stranger I had a son, but I couldn’t tell her.
Back in our condo, she marches to the locked door of J.P.’s nursery.
“Open it,” she says, voice strong.
My stomach drops clean through the floor. “Scarlett, please.”
She reaches for the handle, but it won’t budge. She pins me with a look of betrayal that kills me. “Open. The. Door.”
I feel empty. Like someone drained me at the hospital and left a husk walking.
My palm lands on the keypad, and I can’t even feel my fingers as I punch in the code. The lock clicks softly, but it might as well be a gunshot.
Hand splayed against the door, stalling for just one more breath, I rasp, “Scarlett, please.”
But she pushes right past my arm and steps inside. She hits the light, and her gasp at the nursery I’ve been hiding under her nose tears me to shreds.
“Why didn’t you tell me about him?” Her voice cracks, not weak but wounded. “Why did you keep your son a secret?”
I lean back against the crib, trying to protect the last shred of her respect because she’s about to look at me like I’m a disgusting human being.
“It was easier,” I choke out. “Easier to tell you I was an addict than a father who isn’t good enough to raise his own kid.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, and the pressure forces burning tears to fall. I hate this.
She steps closer. “Who told you you’re not good enough to raise your own child?”
“Me. I didn’t want him.” The words scrape out of me like glass shards, and I break down. I can’t believe I’m crying in front of her. My chest hurts like I’ve been knifed. “I wanted to give him up.”
Scarlett goes pale. One hand grips her stomach like she’s been punched there.
I force myself to look at her, to remind myself what I really am underneath all the forgiveness. I bite my lip so hard I taste blood.
“That’s why I didn’t tell you,” I say hoarsely. “You think I’m some fantasy, this hot professor, and now your secret husband. How does that line up with a man who didn’t want his own kid?”
She bravely refuses to look away. “You said you were on drugs,” she whispers.
I shake my head. “That’s no excuse.”
She rushes at me like she’s walking into fire and grabs my shirt with shaking fingers. “Itisthe reason. Your mind was poisoned, Cormac. You were scared.”
A broken laugh escapes me. “Damn right, I was scared.”