Who's Your Daddy? Read Free Page A

she said when she picked up. And it was hard to tell from two words, but I swore she sounded relieved.
    “Hey,” I said. “Um, you called?”
    “Yeah.” She paused. “I…do you have a little time this afternoon? Maybe I could come by?”
    My heart pounded. “Yeah, sure. I mean, I have a couple of appointments, but I’ll be around. What’s up?”
    “I’d rather talk face-to-face,” she whispered, and my blood pressure shot up.
    “Okay, sure, we can do that. When do you think you can be here? I’ve got another window between clients from about one to two; would that work?”
    “That’d be fine.” Definitely relief this time. “I’ll see you then.”
    “You sure you’re okay, Carmen?”
    I swore I could hear an unspoken “No, I’m not” coming down the line, but she just said, “I’m fine. I’ll see you at one.”
    “All right. See you soon.”
    After Carmen hung up, I looked at my phone, furrowing my brow at the now darkened screen. I made my living figuring out what was bothering people, or at least helping them figure it out. Over the phone, there was no body language to read, no darting gazes or nervous fidgeting like I saw every day in my office, but there was no mistaking her tone. Something was wrong, even if I couldn’t put my finger on it.
    I was fairly certain I could narrow it down, though. We’d barely heard from her since the night a little too much wine got us into bed together. The morning after had been awkward and quiet, all of us probably wondering what the hell we’d been thinking. There were hangovers all around, which hadn’t encouraged much conversation, and before any of us worked up the nerve to broach the subject, Carmen had to leave and Donovan had to get to work.
    Much like Donovan, Carmen was the type who sometimes needed to process things on her own before discussing them. He nearly always needed to be alone until he’d had a chance to think things over on his own, as aggravating as it was for someone like me who preferred to discuss problems sooner than later.
    Now that she’d had some time, Carmen probably wanted to sit down with us and settle things. Get everything out on the table, discuss it, and put it to rest so we could move on without any awkwardness.
    Hopefully she really had the nerve to bring it up. I was adept at asking the right questions to get a married couple talking to each other or lead them to the problems hiding beneath the surface, but I was an objective third party in those situations. Addressing the elephant in my own living room with my boyfriend and one of my best friends? Different story.
    I also didn’t want to embarrass her or make her uncomfortable.
    I didn’t regret it, though. I’d had a thing for Carmen for a long time. Though I’d never touched a woman before that night, I’d done my share of looking over the years, and plenty of that looking had been directed at her. She was an amazing woman, the kind who had a contagious zest for life and a wicked sense of humor that rivaled Donovan’s. The last few years of her marriage had eroded away a lot of that zest for life, but ever since she left Paul’s sorry ass, the spark in her eye had come back, and she was more attractive than ever.
    And after she’d detached herself from Paul, we’d all had a little liquid courage, and before I knew it, I’d lost what was left of my virginity.
    Now that I’d been with her, I wasn’t just bi-curious. I was definitely bisexual, and I definitely still wanted her. She was even more beautiful undressed, and in bed, she was playful and passionate, not to mention just as insatiable as the two of us. It was a wonder any of us could move the next day.
    I didn’t regret that it happened, but like Donovan, I regretted how it had happened. Being drunk left too much room for someone to wake up the next morning and wonder what the fuck they’d been thinking. It left her a chance to drive home, coffee in hand and sunglasses on, second-guessing every