Three Dirty Dads

1. Grayson

CHAPTER 1

Grayson

“Mr. Ross, there’s someone here to see you.”

I swivel my chair toward the conference room door where my executive assistant Andrea is poking her head in. I frown. Andrea knows better than to interrupt me during this meeting.

“I don’t have any other meeting scheduled this morning,” I tell her, giving her a look that says, what the fuck are you doing?

Andrea has worked for me for three years. She knows better than this.

She casts an apologetic look around the room, but nods. “I know. This was unexpected. But it seems important.”

“It wasn’t on my schedule,” I repeat. I don’t do things that aren’t on my schedule.

“Mr. Ross,” Andrea says, coming further into the room. “You really need to meet this person. It’s kind of…an emergency?”

She says it with a clear question mark at the end. My scowl deepens. I just spoke to my mother this weekend and everything was fine in South Carolina, so any family emergency would have to be of the medical variety. I don’t like that at all. My parents are only in their sixties, and in good health, but that doesn’t mean crazy things like heart attacks and aneurysms can’t happen. Or car accidents, which could involve my sister, her husband, or my niece or nephew.

I start to rise from my chair, then remember that Andrea said someone is here.

“Who is it?” I ask brusquely as I straighten.

“Um,” Andrea says, and her brow furrows, as if trying to decide how to answer. “Her name is Evelyn.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know any Evelyn.”

“I know. But Mr. Ross, it’s very important that you come meet her.”

For fuck’s sake. This is all taking longer than it probably would be for me to tell Evelyn whoever-she-is ‘no’ to whatever she’s here to ask me.

I swear to God if this is some woman walking in off the street thinking she’s going to make a grand impression on me with her confidence and boldness—she is grossly mistaken. I do not like surprises. I do not like to be interrupted, and I do not like to be thrown off schedule.

I turn to the conference table full of employees. “I’ll return as soon as I can. Peter, can you continue please,” I say to my vice president of operations for my Chicago office.

Everyone came into the New York office for this meeting, but since I’m in the New York office, it, of course, runs like clockwork. The Chicago office and the Seattle office are the two we need to review.

Peter nods and picks up where I left off as I follow Andrea out to the reception area.

The only person standing by Andrea’s desk is a woman I know well. Sara, Andrea’s assistant, is holding a small child. I suppose the child could even be called a baby.

But there’s no one else around. Certainly no woman barging into my office seeking one of our exclusive, highly sought after internships.

“Where did she go?” Andrea asks Sara.

“Bolted as soon as you left. Here,” Sara thrusts a rumpled, folded piece of paper at Andrea. “She said to give him this.”

I can’t help but study the child on Sara’s hip.

I don’t think I have ever seen a more suspicious looking baby.

She’s not fussing, not squirming or crying, but she’s looking at Sara with a deep frown. As if she is not convinced that Sara knows at all what she is doing.

Did I know that Sara had a baby?

No, I did not.

I realize that I’m very work focused and sometimes am not the most… personable…boss, but I would have noticed if Sara was pregnant.

I’m eighty percent sure that’s true.

Then again, this baby looks nothing like Sara.

And looks like she—or he, I’m not really sure, actually—thinks Sara is kind of a dumbass.

She’s not. Sara is great. I’m just saying that’s how the baby is looking at her.

Andrea takes the folded piece of paper, sighs, and hands it to me.

“What is this?” I don’t reach for it.

Something tells me I do not want that piece of paper.

“Well, I’m hoping it’s an explanation,” Andrea says.

“Evelyn left?”

Andrea shakes her head. “No. I’m guessing—hoping—it’s about Evelyn.“

“Where is this Evelyn?” I ask. I’m feeling very suspicious myself.

Andrea looks from me to Sara. Or rather, to the baby Sara is holding. “Grayson,” she says, addressing me by my first name since we’re not in front of employees. “Meet Evelyn.”

It takes me just a second to catch on. “The baby is Evelyn?” I ask.

“Yes.”

Okay, so it’s a girl. “This baby is who you thought I should meet?” I ask.

Andrea nods. Then she shakes the piece of paper at me.

“Why do you think I need to meet this baby?” I ask, a cold ball of tension forming in my gut as I still refuse to take the piece of paper.

“Because she’s yours.”

Fuck.

That’s what I was afraid she was going to say.

I shake my head. “There’s no way.”

Andrea gives me a really? look. “Read the letter Grayson.”

“No.”

Her eyes widen, and she shakes the paper again. “Read the letter, Grayson,” Andrea says firmly.

“No. It’s probably going to say that Evelyn is my child. But that’s not possible.”

“Have you had sex in the past—” Andrea looks over at Evelyn. “I’d say she’s about seven months, add in the forty weeks of pregnancy…” She looks back to me. “Have you had sex with anyone in the past seventeen to eighteen months?”

She, of course, knows the answer to that question.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I always use protection.”

Andrea is about five years younger than me, but the look she gives me is a very motherly look. As in a don’t fucking treat me like an idiot, young man type motherly look. My mother has given me that look a lot over the years.

“Everyone over the age of twelve knows that condoms can fail. Read the letter Grayson.”

“She looks just like you,” Sara adds.

I look at her with a frown. “What? She does not.”

Sara laughs lightly and reaches up to trace the frown line between Evelyn’s eyebrows. “She has your frown.”

Andrea laughs as well. “And your eyes.”

“Shut up,” I mutter.

Evelyn looks over at me then. For the first time.

We make eye contact and all of a sudden, the little girl smiles brightly.

My eyes widen. The grumpy baby is smiling at me?

“Oh my God,” Andrea says. “She literally hasn’t done anything but frown since they walked in here.”

“Who walked in here with her?” I ask, still watching Evelyn.

“She was twenty-something. Pretty. Blonde. She didn’t give us her name.” Andrea holds her hand up as if to stop me before I can say a word. “She said she was Evelyn’s aunt. She said that you had a one-night stand with her sister and you probably won’t remember her.” Andrea looks at the piece of paper in my hand. “Now read the damn letter.”

Fuck. A baby. There is a baby in my office that everyone thinks belongs to me.

I do the only thing I can. I open the damn letter.

Grayson,

Hi. It’s Lacey. We spent a very fun night together in New York City last April. We met at a cocktail party at the art museum. I was wearing a short red skirt you really liked.

Yes, we used protection. No, I didn’t mean to get pregnant. Yes, I remember us talking about not seeing each other again or getting in contact. No, I don’t want your money.

Evelyn was a huge surprise to me, too. And she’s kind of messed everything up, to be honest. I mean, I love her. A lot. She’s actually great. And it’s not her fault. I really tried to make it work. But I’m broke. I can’t do the single mom thing. I wish I could.

The best thing I can do for her is give her to her dad. You’re rich, successful, and have your shit together. You’re going to be a lot better for her than I ever could be.

You’re named on her birth certificate. You have a bunch of lawyers, so you should have no trouble with the legal stuff.

Please take care of our baby girl.

Maybe someday tell her that she was named after my grandmother, that I love the Beatles and peach pie, and I hope someday she gets to see Zion National Park. I took a trip there when I was eight and still think about it.

And tell her I love her.

Lacey

I take a deep breath and blow it out. I remember the red skirt. I even remember the girl. Lacey was beautiful and fun, and we laughed. And had great sex.

We did have a really good time that night.

We also both stuck by our promise not to contact each other afterward.

I guess until now.

I look up at the baby.

Evelyn.

This is hardly proof that she’s mine, of course. The fact that her birth certificate lists me is also not proof.

“We’re going to need a DNA test.”

“Oh my God,” Andrea mutters, almost like she’s disappointed in me.

She grabs the letter from me and starts reading. I let her. I’m probably going to need as many people in on this as I can. I don’t know what the fuck to do.

“Come on,” I tell her, my tone a lot less boss-in-charge than before. I hate that. “I can’t just take this woman’s word for it. That’s downright irresponsible.”

Andrea gives me a look. “ That would be irresponsible? Look, it’s not like she’s trying to get your money or get you to marry her or something. She just wants you to take care of the baby.”

“Just?” I repeat. “ Just take care of a baby?”

“ Your baby,” Andrea says.

“ Allegedly ,” I return.

“Really, your only options at this moment are to take her home or call child protective services,” Sara says.

Andrea looks at me. “I swear to God, Grayson, if you call CPS for this baby, I will quit.”

I believe her. It wouldn’t be the first time Andrea threatened to quit, but the last time she threatened, she actually did it, and it took me three weeks to convince her to come back. And a ten thousand dollar a year raise.

“So I’m just supposed to take her home?”

“Yes,” Andrea says.

“I don’t know what to do with a baby.”

Andrea props a hand on her hip. “You are thirty-three years old, a multimillionaire, graduated summa cum laude from business school at Columbia, and despite how you act much of the time, you’re not actually an asshole. You’ll figure it out.”

“I know the first thing I would do,” Sara says.

“What’s that?” I ask with a sigh.

I’m studying Evelyn. She’s looking at Sara again, frowning.

“I’d call my mom,” Sara says.

That’s actually the first thing anyone’s said that’s made sense since I walked out of the conference room.