Straight Up Love (The Boys of Jackson Harbor #2)(85)

“Broke up with you? Does that mean you two finally got together?”

“Yeah. Briefly. Until she found out about my night with you and your son within a couple of days of each other.”

“Mommy?”

My chest clutches so hard and tight at the little boy’s voice. I brace myself on the doorframe. I’m not sure I believed he existed. Don’t think too much. Just do the next right thing.

Molly looks over her shoulder and calls into the apartment, “Noah, honey, Mommy will be back in a minute. I need to speak with someone in the hall. You can watch cartoons.”

“Even Pider-Man?” he calls back.

“Even Spider-Man,” Molly says.

I feel like the floor has disappeared from beneath my feet.

Molly steps out of her apartment, and I move out of the way so she can shut her door. She tilts her head to the side and studies my face. “You didn’t need to come. I’m sorry about you and Ava, but like I told you on the phone, this has nothing to do with you.”

I stare at the apartment door, thinking of the little voice from inside. “You didn’t give me much reason to believe you.”

When I look back at Molly, her eyes are wide. “Reason? You need a reason? He’s not your kid. Be happy. You’re off the hook. You and Ava can live happily ever after.”

“Then whose is he?”

“He’s mine.” It’s gotta be pushing ninety out here in the corridor, but her words have the bite of the winter wind.

“Who is the father, Molly?”

She meets my gaze with fiery eyes. “I don’t owe you this. I don’t owe you anything.”

“Do a DNA test, then. Prove to me he’s not mine. I can’t walk away until I know.”

She throws up her arms. “You want to waste your money like that, then why not? Must be nice to have cash to throw down the drain.” She waits a beat, then says, “You seriously don’t remember?”

“Remember what?”

“Jake, the night we were together, we didn’t even have sex. We were both drunk, but you were toasted out of your mind. When we went up to your apartment, I thought we were headed for your bed, but instead . . .” Her shoulders sag as she exhales. “We messed around for a while, then you stopped us. You said Ava wouldn’t forgive you.” She holds my gaze as she says this. “Noah can’t be yours because you and I never slept together.”

There’s a special place in hell for assholes like me, because I’m swamped with nothing but relief. I don’t have a kid with Molly. Her little boy isn’t mine.

Please let this be true.

Her eyes are pleading. “Now would you please forget you know anything about this?”

“I don’t understand. If you weren’t keeping this baby a secret to protect me, then who . . .”

She laughs, but her eyes fill with tears. “You really think I’d have been hiding in New York if I’d had a Jackson’s baby?” She clutches her stomach, and I can’t decide if she’s trying to hold in a belly laugh or if she thinks she might be sick. Tears spill onto her cheeks, and she wipes them away. “Will you please leave?”

“Whose is he? I’m not walking away until you tell me.” Ava won’t believe me until I have an answer to that question.

“I can’t.” Her voice is hard, brittle at the edges, her words faltering. “It doesn’t matter.”

The door opens, and a little boy steps into the corridor. My breath leaves me in a rush when I see his wild, dark hair and smiling brown eyes. He doesn’t look a thing like his blond-haired, blue-eyed mother.

“Hi,” Noah says, waving to me.

“Noah,” Molly says, pointing into the apartment, “I need you to stay inside.”

“It’s a girl cartoon.” He pouts. “I wanted Pider-Man. I don’t like My Wittle Ponies.”

“Then play with your trains until I get in there.” Her voice is stern, and she spares a panicked glance in my direction before pointing into the apartment again. “Please, Noah. I only need another minute.”

“Bye,” Noah says before scurrying into the apartment and shutting the door behind him.

“He’s a McKinley.” No wonder she didn’t want me to see him. Holy shit. It’s so clear.

“Of course he is. He’s my son.”

I shake my head. That’s not what I mean, and she knows it. Molly is only a McKinley because Ava’s father adopted her. Noah is a McKinley by birth. It’s all over his face.

“It’s none of your business, Jake. Please stay out of it. Go home to Ava. Tell her you’re madly in love with her and make beautiful babies together. Don’t worry about me and Noah.”

“You’re sure you don’t want his father to know?”

“Noah doesn’t have a father,” she says firmly. “Just a mommy, and he and his mommy are doing just fine.” She takes my hand, and vulnerability creeps into her eyes for the first time when she says, “Please don’t do anything that might change that.”

It’s the desperation in her eyes that makes me understand her secret. Holy shit. “The secret is yours to keep or tell,” I promise. “You don’t have to worry about me, but soon enough, word is going to spread that you have a child.”