Page 104 of Reckless Love

The door to the examination room opens, and Dr. Bennett walks in with two manilla envelopes in his hand. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Gastro is going around the staff. Been a busy day.”

He slides into his rolling chair and rotates to face us both. “I have two copies of the results. One has to stay here with its original seal to qualify as a court document. But I can give you the additional copy I ordered to either open here or to take home with you.”

“Take home,” Ava says before I even have time to process the options. “We’ll open it at home.” She squeezes my hand, but she doesn’t look at me.

It occurs to me that she still doesn’t believe her mother could have forged the results, that she probably thinks the document will confirm I’m not the father. She wants privacy for me. For us.

“If Raul Santos is not Landon’s father,” I say, “what are our options?”

“That’s a question for a lawyer,” Dr. Bennett says with a grimace. “Messy, honestly. At least that’s my perception. Raul will be the legal father on every document—birth certificate, passport, health information, school… I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to speculate what a court would do. I rarely see any outcome. I just provide the proof and testimony for my role in paternity cases.”

“Thank you,” Ava says, holding out her hand for the envelope. “We appreciate your help.”

We drive back to my house in silence, and Ava keeps fiddling with the edge of the envelope, and I don’t know if she wants to rip it open or keep it sealed forever. Whatever is inside has the power to change all our lives.

When we get into the apartment, I toss my keys on the side table and say, “Are you going to open it or am I?”

Ava clutches the envelope to her chest and follows me through to the living room. Instead of sitting down, she paces. But I sink into the couch.

I wouldn’t say I’m okay with whatever the result might be, but I’m resigned to my fate—whether that’s the outcome I want or not.

“Did you mean what you said?” Ava asks, whirling on me suddenly. “The result doesn’t matter?”

“Of course it matters,” I say, exasperated. “That’s not exactly what I meant. But it doesn’t change how I feel. Not about you. Not about Landon.”

“If Raul wakes up, and he’s actually Landon’s father, he’ll take him from me. He’ll do everything he can to take him from me.”

“And we’ll do everything we can to stop him. Ava, you’re not alone in this. I’m not going to watch him tear apart your life and do nothing. I spent years in the police force. There are… There are options.”

“Is that a ‘I know where to hide the body’ conversation?”

“I do know where and how to hide bodies, but no. Murder is obviously not the first line of defense.”

“I don’t want to open this,” she cries, thrusting the envelope in my direction. “Because either outcome…”

“I know,” I say, standing up to take the envelope gently out of her hand and drawing her into my embrace. “I know. Maybe neither of us is prepared for the emotional fallout of whatever this says, but legally, we need to know. It’s important that we know.”

“Okay,” she says, stepping back and running her hands through her hair. Anxiety is coming off her in strong waves—a version of her I’ve never seen. “You open it. I’m getting a drink from the kitchen.”

I go to the couch and sink back down, my finger toying with the edge of the envelope, the same way Ava did in the car.

Fuck it. Rip off the Band-Aid, right?

With a sharp tug, I tear the edge of the seal, and I don’t stop until pieces of the envelope are lying on the floor. Then I draw out the sheet of paper, half expecting that I won’t understand what I’m seeing, even though I’ve viewed similar documents in legal cases before.

I scan the page, and disbelief sits on my shoulders. Of course, this result was possible, but I never let myself believe it.

Ava hovers at the entrance to the living room from the kitchen, a glass of water in her hand. “You going to keep me in suspense?”

“Landon’s mine, Ava.” My voice is hoarse with emotion. “Celia lied. He’s mine.”

She closes her eyes and sinks to her knees, the glass falling to the floor with a thump, water seeping everywhere. “How could she? Oh, my god. How could she?”

A mixture of elation, frustration, and sadness swirls in me, a confusing concoction. He’s mine. But Ava’s lost her mother, Landon loses the father he knows as his, and I’ve lost six years with my kid. Six fucking years. All those firsts. Seeing Ava pregnant with my baby. Gone because Celia Tucker wished it so.

I set the results on the coffee table, and I crouch on the floor to fold Ava into my arms. She’s sobbing uncontrollably, clutching me like I’m the only buoy in stormy seas. Whatever else she’s saying, I can’t make it out.

But I don’t even know how to unpack her emotions when I can’t figure out how to unpack my own.