Beauty from Love
Page 47
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
Laurelyn squeezes my hand. “It’s amazing. We’re looking at our baby for the first time. Do you see it, Jack Henry?”
It’s truly an incredible sight to behold, this tiny little person inside my wife. Part me, part her, but whether boy or girl, I hope to see more Laurelyn than me in him or her. “I do. It’s incredible.” I’ll be forever changed by it.
We leave the office and Laurelyn can’t stop looking at the ultrasound picture the doctor printed for us. “I haven’t been able to get the bleeding episode with Addison off my mind since I found out I was pregnant, so it’s a relief to know everything looks okay at this point.”
“Everything is going to be perfect. No worries, okay?”
“I’m excited. I decided I don’t want to wait about telling everyone since we got a good report.”
I debate bringing up the test results. I don’t want to taint our good news but I’m certain Laurelyn wants this over as much as I do. “Dr. Gates’s office called this morning to tell me the paternity test results are in. Do you want to go by and pick them up while we’re in town or wait?”
She sighs. “I don’t want to put it off. It’s better to get it done so we can either stop worrying and move forward or begin the process of accepting that boy as yours.”
Laurelyn waits in the car while I go in to retrieve the report. The woman at reception smiles and wishes me a good evening as she places a sealed envelope in my hand. My name is typed across the front in all caps but all I can think is how it should read, JACK McLACHLAN’S FATE.
Laurelyn and I didn’t discuss how we’d do this, but I don’t open the results. I think it’s something she and I should do together in the privacy of our home—mainly because I don’t know what either of our reactions will be—but I’m giving her all the power. It’s her choice to decide when and how.
I get into the car and hold the envelope out for her. “Tell me how you want to do this.”
She takes a breath and her cheeks puff out as she exhales. “I think we should do it at home.”
“Agreed.” I toss the envelope on the dashboard and steer her Cayenne toward Avalon. The drive has never seemed longer.
I pull into the garage and grab the envelope. “I think we should be alone when we look at this. Do you mind if I give Mrs. Porcelli the rest of the day off?”
“I think that’s best.”
I go in ahead of Laurelyn and relieve Mrs. Porcelli of her duties for the rest of the day. L waits until she’s gone to come into the house and I see why when she comes inside. She’s already crying. “I’m sorry.” She cups her mouth with her hand. “I told myself I wasn’t going to be like this but I can’t help it.”
“It’s okay, L. Your hormones are all over the place so you can’t help this crazy emotional roller coaster you’re riding.” I hold my hand out to her and after she takes it, I lead her to the couch. “Is here okay?” She nods and tears roll down her cheeks as I break the envelope’s seal.
She stops me, placing her hand on mine. “No matter the results, I love you. If he’s yours, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stand by you and be the wife you need me to be.”
I’m instantly relieved, and for the first time since my life spun out of control, I feel like my world won’t end by what could potentially be on this piece of paper. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me knowing you’ll be here with me either way.”
“I wanted you to know before so you could be assured that negative results aren’t why I stayed.”
I take the paper out and it isn’t what I expected. I thought it would be a letter stating I was or was not the father of Ashton Rosenthal, but I’m wrong. I panic, trying to decipher its meaning. “It’s the actual lab result.” I search through lots of words and numbers I don’t understand about alleles. One set is for: child. The other for: alleged father. And then I see what I believe to be the results.
Based on the DNA analysis, the alleged father, Jack McLachlan, is excluded as the biological father of the child, Ashton Rosenthal, because they do not share sufficient genetic markers. Combined Direct Index: 0. Probability 0%.
I’m not his father.
“Gah!” I put my hands into my hair and fall back against the couch. “Fuck.” Is it wrong for me to be this relieved when the result leaves a little boy fatherless? I don’t have time to sort that out in my head because I’m pulling L into my arms. “Zero percent probability. Jenna Rosenthal’s son is not mine.”
Thank fuck. I’ve managed to put another shitstorm behind me.
21
I’m awakened when I hear Jack Henry on the phone, yelling, and I get up to see what’s going on. “Your son isn’t mine. There’s nothing else for us to discuss.” I don’t have to hear another word to know who’s on the other end.
He’s quiet for a moment but then I’m startled when he throws his phone across the room hitting the wall only a few feet from me. “Mother-fucking-bitch!” He’s so angry, he’s shaking. It’s frightening to see him like this.
He sees me standing close to where he just busted his phone into pieces and his eyes grow large. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you standing there.”
“What was that about?”
He sinks into the couch. “That, my dear wife, was the sound of me being threatened and blackmailed by Jenna Rosenthal.”
“With what?”
“She began by accusing me of having someone change the paternity test results. I told her we could take a hundred paternity tests and they would all exclude me as her son’s father. Once she realized she wasn’t going to hoodoo me into claiming her kid, she threatened to expose my past. She said you’d leave me for sure, out of embarrassment, if everyone knew what I used to do.”
“What does she want?”
“What she wanted from the beginning—money.”
Of course she does. Money-hungry bitch. “What kind of numbers are we talking?”
“She asked how much money I was willing to part with to keep you.”
She’s going to play hardball. “She probably thinks I don’t know about your past.”
“Or if she suspects you were a part of it, she thinks I’ll pay to keep you from being humiliated as one of my companions.”
I don’t really give a rat’s ass what people think. “I’m not going anywhere, so I don’t want you to pay her one damn cent unless you think you can’t live with people knowing.”
It’s truly an incredible sight to behold, this tiny little person inside my wife. Part me, part her, but whether boy or girl, I hope to see more Laurelyn than me in him or her. “I do. It’s incredible.” I’ll be forever changed by it.
We leave the office and Laurelyn can’t stop looking at the ultrasound picture the doctor printed for us. “I haven’t been able to get the bleeding episode with Addison off my mind since I found out I was pregnant, so it’s a relief to know everything looks okay at this point.”
“Everything is going to be perfect. No worries, okay?”
“I’m excited. I decided I don’t want to wait about telling everyone since we got a good report.”
I debate bringing up the test results. I don’t want to taint our good news but I’m certain Laurelyn wants this over as much as I do. “Dr. Gates’s office called this morning to tell me the paternity test results are in. Do you want to go by and pick them up while we’re in town or wait?”
She sighs. “I don’t want to put it off. It’s better to get it done so we can either stop worrying and move forward or begin the process of accepting that boy as yours.”
Laurelyn waits in the car while I go in to retrieve the report. The woman at reception smiles and wishes me a good evening as she places a sealed envelope in my hand. My name is typed across the front in all caps but all I can think is how it should read, JACK McLACHLAN’S FATE.
Laurelyn and I didn’t discuss how we’d do this, but I don’t open the results. I think it’s something she and I should do together in the privacy of our home—mainly because I don’t know what either of our reactions will be—but I’m giving her all the power. It’s her choice to decide when and how.
I get into the car and hold the envelope out for her. “Tell me how you want to do this.”
She takes a breath and her cheeks puff out as she exhales. “I think we should do it at home.”
“Agreed.” I toss the envelope on the dashboard and steer her Cayenne toward Avalon. The drive has never seemed longer.
I pull into the garage and grab the envelope. “I think we should be alone when we look at this. Do you mind if I give Mrs. Porcelli the rest of the day off?”
“I think that’s best.”
I go in ahead of Laurelyn and relieve Mrs. Porcelli of her duties for the rest of the day. L waits until she’s gone to come into the house and I see why when she comes inside. She’s already crying. “I’m sorry.” She cups her mouth with her hand. “I told myself I wasn’t going to be like this but I can’t help it.”
“It’s okay, L. Your hormones are all over the place so you can’t help this crazy emotional roller coaster you’re riding.” I hold my hand out to her and after she takes it, I lead her to the couch. “Is here okay?” She nods and tears roll down her cheeks as I break the envelope’s seal.
She stops me, placing her hand on mine. “No matter the results, I love you. If he’s yours, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stand by you and be the wife you need me to be.”
I’m instantly relieved, and for the first time since my life spun out of control, I feel like my world won’t end by what could potentially be on this piece of paper. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me knowing you’ll be here with me either way.”
“I wanted you to know before so you could be assured that negative results aren’t why I stayed.”
I take the paper out and it isn’t what I expected. I thought it would be a letter stating I was or was not the father of Ashton Rosenthal, but I’m wrong. I panic, trying to decipher its meaning. “It’s the actual lab result.” I search through lots of words and numbers I don’t understand about alleles. One set is for: child. The other for: alleged father. And then I see what I believe to be the results.
Based on the DNA analysis, the alleged father, Jack McLachlan, is excluded as the biological father of the child, Ashton Rosenthal, because they do not share sufficient genetic markers. Combined Direct Index: 0. Probability 0%.
I’m not his father.
“Gah!” I put my hands into my hair and fall back against the couch. “Fuck.” Is it wrong for me to be this relieved when the result leaves a little boy fatherless? I don’t have time to sort that out in my head because I’m pulling L into my arms. “Zero percent probability. Jenna Rosenthal’s son is not mine.”
Thank fuck. I’ve managed to put another shitstorm behind me.
21
I’m awakened when I hear Jack Henry on the phone, yelling, and I get up to see what’s going on. “Your son isn’t mine. There’s nothing else for us to discuss.” I don’t have to hear another word to know who’s on the other end.
He’s quiet for a moment but then I’m startled when he throws his phone across the room hitting the wall only a few feet from me. “Mother-fucking-bitch!” He’s so angry, he’s shaking. It’s frightening to see him like this.
He sees me standing close to where he just busted his phone into pieces and his eyes grow large. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you standing there.”
“What was that about?”
He sinks into the couch. “That, my dear wife, was the sound of me being threatened and blackmailed by Jenna Rosenthal.”
“With what?”
“She began by accusing me of having someone change the paternity test results. I told her we could take a hundred paternity tests and they would all exclude me as her son’s father. Once she realized she wasn’t going to hoodoo me into claiming her kid, she threatened to expose my past. She said you’d leave me for sure, out of embarrassment, if everyone knew what I used to do.”
“What does she want?”
“What she wanted from the beginning—money.”
Of course she does. Money-hungry bitch. “What kind of numbers are we talking?”
“She asked how much money I was willing to part with to keep you.”
She’s going to play hardball. “She probably thinks I don’t know about your past.”
“Or if she suspects you were a part of it, she thinks I’ll pay to keep you from being humiliated as one of my companions.”
I don’t really give a rat’s ass what people think. “I’m not going anywhere, so I don’t want you to pay her one damn cent unless you think you can’t live with people knowing.”
