“That’s very admirable, Zeb.”
“No, it’s not. If he’s mine I should’ve been taking care of him all along. He shouldn’t be in this situation because I was too drunk and disgustingly miserable to use a condom one time. It’s not his fault that his mom was an addict and made terrible decisions. No kid should have to suffer because of the shitty choices the adults in their lives might’ve made. He deserves better than this.”
I agreed with him, but I also thought he was being kind of hard on himself. I knew far too many men who, were they in the same situation, would have ignored the revelation of a child they fathered and pretended like nothing had happened.
Since the conversation had turned serious so fast I no longer felt comfortable sitting down while Zeb loomed over me. I got to my feet and took up his original pose leaning against the glass-topped desk. I set my hands down next to me so I could rap my fingernails against the surface. It was another unconscious habit I had that my father had abhorred. He hated it so much that I had a burning memory from when I was fourteen of him scolding me, chastising me, and sending me to sit in my room during the middle of a fancy dinner party he had held at our house when his firm won a major case. It was mortifying to do a walk of shame in front of his colleagues and their families over something so small, something so seemingly insignificant. My father had ignored me, glowered at me for days on end. He told me I wasn’t fit for company, and that I had no manners and that he had raised me better than that. His disapproval crawled all over me like angry bugs whenever I did something he didn’t like. I learned to behave like nothing he said or did bothered me. I shivered a little as the image of his sneer and scowl whispered across my memory. I immediately stopped tapping my fingernails.
“So what do you want to do here, Zeb? Do you want to find out for sure if the child is yours, and if he is do you want to try to appeal to the state for full custodial rights? What’s your plan?”
He moved so that he was facing me and we stared at each other for a long, silent moment. He took a step forward until the tips of his worn Red Wings were almost touching my brightly colored toes. He dipped his chin down so we were eye to eye, and I stopped breathing as he reached out and put his hands on top of mine. He towered over me, but my breasts still hit the center of his chest and he was bent just enough that all the parts of him that I dreamed about in the dark were pressed tightly against me. I could see a thick vein on the side of his neck throbbing. This was the closest I had ever been to him and I could tell the proximity was going to do nothing for my sleeplessness. He was everywhere and yet not close enough.
“My plan is you, Sayer.”
I opened my mouth and then closed it again. I felt my eyebrows shoot up and a flush start to work its way up my throat. His eyes were so dark now it was almost impossible to see the pupils and every breath he exhaled I took in. I could taste his tension and my own across my tongue. The flavor of each was very different and had its own tang.
“What does that mean exactly?” My voice was thin and shaky and there was no real hiding the way my body reacted to his nearness. I longed for the layers of my professional garb, but instead the thin material of my bedtime outfit put the way my entire being flushed and the way my nipples tightened into noticeable peaks on full display.
He noticed.
Zeb took a step closer and ran his rough hands up my arms until they curled around my shoulders.
“I want you to help me, Sayer. I need you to get me through this. I need you to help me help this little boy even if it turns out he isn’t mine.”
His eyes drilled into me and I felt like I was being welded to the spot. I nodded slightly. “Of course I’ll help you, Zeb. I’ll get started on the paperwork we need to file to figure out paternity on Monday. You’re going to need to get a DNA test and we’ll have to petition the state to get one done on the little boy.” I did a lot of pro bono work for families in the community and this was a case I would be happy to handle free of charge even though I knew Zeb made enough to afford my regular rates.
He sighed and I was stunned when he dropped his forehead so that it rested against my own. I could feel the brush of his beard against my face and I wanted to whimper at the surprising softness of it. I also wanted to rub my face against it like a cat.
“No, I don’t think you get what I’m asking you. I want you to help me because it’s me, Sayer. Not because it’s your job and what you do.”