Page 2 of Stealing Home

“Do you want water? Or something warm to drink?” He interrupted her, already moving toward his kitchen. His mother would kill him from New Jersey if he didn’t offer a guest something to drink.

She forced out a soft laugh behind him. “Sure. Water is fine.”

He took a deep breath as he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. Talia had a whole actual baby. He tried to do the math in his head. Had she been pregnant when they broke up? She couldn’t have been. She would’ve said something.

Wouldn’t she?

He returned to the living room and handed her the water bottle. The baby stirred when she reached for it, and Dom found himself staring again before he could stop himself.

“She’s really little,” he whispered.

Talia’s eyes closed briefly. “Yeah.”

“How old is she?”

“Three weeks.”

Three weeks. Jesus Christ. The baby made a soft little noise, and Talia kissed the top of her head.

“Okay.” Dom rubbed both hands over his face, then ran his fingers through his hair. “I feel like I missed at least one major development here.”

Talia looked at the baby instead of him, and an uneasy feeling curdled in his stomach as he waited for her to speak.

“She’s yours,” Talia whispered. Her fingers tightened around the blanket.

The floor tilted under his feet and a rushing sound flooded his ears as his body felt strangely weightless and unsteady. He locked his knees to keep from toppling over. “What?”

Talia finally looked at him. “She’s yours.”

“What?” The word came out sharper this time, then Talia’s eyes filled, and the anger faded before it could form.

“I found out a few weeks after we broke up,” she whispered.

He stared at the baby, then at Talia, then back to the baby. “No, wait. Hold on.” He started to pace, pulse climbing. “Talia, what?”

“She’s yours,” Talia said again, slower, like it would make things clearer.

“That’s not—I mean, biologically it’s obviously possible, but⁠—”

The baby squirmed against Talia’s chest, and his gaze snapped downward immediately, his voice failing. His stomach flipped, and he exhaled sharply through his nose.

“Oh my God,” he whispered.

Talia started crying silently, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Dom dragged both hands through his hair, then gripped the strands tightly in his fists. The sting of pain kept him from completely spiraling. Rain hammered against the windows and the television murmured in the background. Everything felt absurdly normal for a conversation that had just blown up his entire life.

His mother was going to kill him.

“You could’ve called,” he said finally.

“I know.”

“You should’ve called.”

“I know.”

He paced a few steps away before turning back. His chest felt tight and the anger he’d felt before still simmered beneath his skin, but mostly, he was just overwhelmed. “When were you planning to mention I apparently have a child?”