Grinding my back teeth, the pain in my head and heart was too damn much. I couldn’t breathe or think. I had to get out of there. I took off from the building, narrowly avoiding conversations with staff on my way to the parking garage.

The moment I sat behind the wheel of my car, my first thought was to text Juliette. We’d swapped digits after I’d dodged answering her question about the ring Colin had mentioned. I went from not having a son yesterday to covering for him today. What the hell was going on?

Me: How were things after I left? You okay?

Me: This is Constantine, by the way, in case you didn’t save my number.

Juliette: Hey, I did save it. And you caught me just getting out of the shower. One sec.

Thank you for that image of you naked and wet. Fuck. I bucked my hips forward, unsure what the hell that was all about. I didn’t get aroused from a text, let alone an innocent one.

My car remained in park as I waited for her to put on some clothes.

Juliette: Things are . . . weirdish? But he’s good. Well, as good as a 16-yr-old can ever truly be. And I’m okay. I think? Nervous to tell him. Excited . . . but nervous. Make sense?

The woman texted like she talked.

And was I grinning because of a text? Another thing that never happened.

Me: Why weird? (I’m nervous, too.)

I rolled my eyes at my use of parentheses, deleted them, then sent the text.

Juliette: He thinks something sketchy is going on. (His words.)

I smiled at her parentheses.

Fuck. I’m so fucked.

Juliette: He asked if you’re . . . this is too embarrassing to say, and it was even more mortifying to hear him ask me.

I straightened in my seat.

Me: What? Tell me.

Juliette: We’re still strangers. Technically. Kind of awkward.

Me: You had my DNA inside you. Grew my child in your stomach (womb?). We no longer qualify as strangers.

I groaned at how horrible that sounded and quickly deleted the whole thing.

I used to be smooth. What happened to me?

Me: I get it.

I hated that response even more but sent it before quickly following up with a text I actually meant.

Me: You’re not in this alone. Not anymore.

Juliette: Thank you.

Juliette: If you really want to know what he said . . .?

Me: I do.

Bubbles came and went. I could feel her nerves in every bouncing dot.

Juliette: He’s worried you’re blackmailing me with the security tapes from the parking garage.

Me: For?

Juliette: In exchange for . . . <facepalm emoji> sex.

Me: Oh.

Brilliant response. It was no wonder my father had yet to retire and turn over his empire to me. Not that I wanted him to.

Me: So, he doesn’t suspect we’ve already had sex, then? That I’m his dad?