Written with Regret (The Regret Duet #1)(5)

I was utterly unable to process the absurdity in front of me.

Of course, I knew the facts.

It was a baby.

On my doorstep.

Alone.

But the why in that equation was glaringly absent.

“Uhhh,” Ian drawled, peering over my shoulder. “Why is there a kid at your door?”

“I have no fucking idea,” I replied, staring down at the squirming and now-screaming bundle. “It was just there when I opened the door.”

Ian shoved me to the side so he could stand beside me. “You’re shitting me, right?”

“Does it look like I’m shitting you?”

He looked from me to the baby, then back again. “How did it get there?”

We were two incredibly smart men who had created a technology empire out of nothing. But, clearly, a baby was too big for either of us to wrap our minds around.

I swept an arm out and pointed to the kid. “I have no fucking clue, but I’m assuming it didn’t catch a cab.”

A light of understanding hit his eyes. He moved first, stepping over the crying baby and hurrying down the hall, searching around the corner near the elevator before returning alone.

The party continued behind me, but even with the door open, the loud chatter was no match for the ear-piecing cries happening in that hallway.

Veronica suddenly appeared beside me, her body going solid as she stammered out. “Is that…a baby?”

“Back up,” I urged, throwing my arm out to block her path as though the infant were going to suddenly morph into a rabid animal. And let’s be honest, I knew nothing about babies. Anything was possible.

Ian dropped to his knees, scooping up the wailing child. Meanwhile, I stood there like a gawking idiot, paralyzed by a weight I didn’t yet understand.

“Call the pol—” He stopped abruptly and reached into the top of the child’s blanket. “Oh shit,” he whispered, his wide, panic-filled eyes flashing to mine.

“What?” I asked, stepping toward him to get a better look at the kid. Only it wasn’t that tiny baby cradled in his arms that made my heart stop and bile rise in my throat.

There, in my best friend’s hand, was a folded piece of notebook paper that had been tucked into the child’s blanket. From the looks of it, the paper was unremarkable in every sense of the word. Blue lines, white spaces, hanging remnants from where it had been haphazardly ripped from a spiral bound notebook. Even the crease was crooked. But it was my name scrawled on the outside in messy, black ink that made it the most remarkable paper in existence.

I snatched it from his hand and, with blood roaring in my ears, opened it.



Caven,

I’m sorry. I never meant for this to happen. This is our daughter Keira. I’ll love her forever. Take care of her the way I can’t.

Written with regret,

Hadley



The hall began to spin, my head feeling like every ounce of blood had been drained from my body. The thundering in my ears faded and the loud chatter of my guests, who were suddenly aware that something was happening at the door, roared to life.

And then the chaos finally found me all over again—the past playing out in my head like my life flashing before my eyes.

I knew Hadley. If that was even her real name. Or more accurately… I’d known Hadley—for one night. We’d met at a bar. She was stunning, with waves of thick, red hair that had caught my attention the minute I’d walked through the door. Upon approach, I realized that it was her eyes that made her the most mesmerizing woman I’d ever seen because they weren’t the bright-green irises that flashed on the back of my lids every night as I woke up in a cold sweat. She seemed a little dry and serious, but she had a sharp, sarcastic wit. The physical attraction was mutual, and two drinks later, we were back at my apartment, naked, and fucking until we were on the verge of a coma.

Or at least I had been nearly comatose.

Hadley, on the other hand, had more than enough energy to ransack my apartment before taking off with my computer, iPad, cell phone, and wallet. The very same wallet that contained the only thing I’d had left of my mother.

I’d immediately called the police when I’d realized what she’d done, but short of a few red hairs left behind on the pillowcase, Hadley had all but vanished.

Until tonight.

“Caven?” Ian called. “What’s it say?”

I sucked in a deep breath and looked at the baby in his arms. The blanket had fallen off its head just enough to reveal a patch of fine hairs, more orange than its mother’s red.

I hadn’t heard from Hadley in over eight months. It seemed awfully convenient that she’d reappeared long enough to dump a child she claimed to be mine on the night the Kaleidoscope deal had been finalized and the contents of my bank account had become public knowledge.

“Call the police,” I declared, turning on a toe and walking back into my apartment, leaving Ian standing in the hall with Hadley’s child.

Shoving through the crowd of concerned onlookers, I headed straight to the bottles of liquor lining the counter. I didn’t bother with ice or even a glass. I threw back that bottle of vodka, hoping like hell the burn of the alcohol could numb the panic coursing through my veins.

Through it all, that baby never stopped crying.





CAVEN