Her lips part, but no words come out. She just sits there, staring at me with eyes that tell me everything I need to know.

There's anger there; maybe even outrage. There's evidence of shock. But she's also intrigued. And her rapid, shallow breathing tells me she's aroused, too.

Her cheeks have filled with color. As I run my hand over her denim-clad thigh, she parts her legs for me—only slightly, but I’m watching her like a hawk so nothing escapes my attention.

But most importantly, she hasn’t said no to any of my assertions.

I just told her she was mine and I knew the baby was mine, too. That second one was a bluff, but she doesn’t need to know that.

Her stunned silence is all the evidence I need to confirm all my suspicions.

Sawyer and William are still in the adjacent living room. I can hear some cartoonish voices from the TV, as well as the giggles from William—my son.

Jesus. My son. That sounds so weird. But I guess I’m going to have to get used to it.

I’d already decided, long ago, that I was going to be there for any kids I have. I’m not going to disappear like my dad did. I mean, it’s not like I miss him or anything, but it was really hard for my mom to raise me on her own.

And besides, even if the kid weren’t a factor at all, I was already going to find Katie and make her mine again.

But now . . . After seeing William, my resolve has only grown stronger.

I’ve decided. I’m going to make Katie and William mine. We’re going to be a family.

First, though, I have to convince Katie it’s a good idea.

“He’s mine, isn’t he?” I ask. I need her to say it, even if I already know the truth.

Katie hesitates, and for a moment, I see a storm in her brown eyes, clouding them over. But then, she shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I’ve never bothered to find out. He could be anyone’s.” Katie looks away before guardedly glancing at me. She’s lying.

It’s understandable that she wouldn’t believe me since we haven’t seen each other in three years, but I need to find out for sure. I have the right to know, don’t I?

“I don’t think you’re telling the truth, kitten.” I trap her gaze and watch her squirm in her seat.

“Well, maybe I don’t think you’re telling the truth either,” she says after a long silence.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean I don’t know you. You claim to have met me at The Succubus, but you could be lying about that. And even if that’s true, we still have only met once.” Staring straight into my eyes with bravado, she repeats, “That’s what I mean. I don’t know you.”

The corners of my lips tug up into a smile. She’s sassy. I kind of like that.

“You can stop lying to me now. I can see right through you,” I say.

“You don’t even know me,” she snaps.

Just then, a heart-breaking wail breaks out, and I turn to look for the source of the sound. Before I can find it, the wooden legs of Katie’s chair drag on the floor as she gets up and rushes to the living room.

William’s crying, and Katie, the good mom that she is, rushes to check on him.

My son’s crying, and his mom’s doing everything a good mom would.

I’ve always wanted a family of my own. Maybe it’s because growing up, it was just my mom and me. Maybe it’s some irrational urge to prove myself different from my dad.

Regardless, the scene unfolding in the living room right now, of Katie comforting a crying William, is the one I’ve always yearned for my whole life.

And now that I’ve found it, I’m not going to just walk away from it.

* * *

I stand in front of Katie’s bathroom vanity, staring at my reflection in the mirror. The vent fan whirrs noisily—good; that should somewhat cover the sounds I’m inevitably going to make.

Okay, that didn’t come out right. Just to clarify, I’m not doing a number two.

I turn my attention to the screen of my phone again.

Let’s do this.

The list on the webpage shows the types of samples they accept, the prices, and the success rates.

So, the best samples to collect would be:

(1.) Blood.

Katie wouldn’t hesitate to kill me if I tried to get a blood sample from William. I’d be dead before I so much as prick William’s skin with a needle.

(2.) Semen.

Yeah, that’s not going to work in this case.

(3.) Nail clippings.

(4.) Hair (with roots).

I stare at the bright-yellow trash can with the silver lid. Any of those two things could potentially be inside there, right?

It’s kind of gross . . . But I can wash my hand afterward, right here, and it’s probably just facial tissues anyway, right? Like the kind Katie probably uses while putting on her make-up.

Besides, we’re talking about my firstborn son here. A little dirt’s not a big deal.

I crouch down and open the lid. It’s not too full, which is great because that means it’s relatively cleaner—as clean as a trash can can be anyway—but it also means that I’m less likely to find . . . let me check my list.

Five to ten nail clippings, or seven to ten hairs.

As I sift through the trash and come across some dark hair, I realize there’s no way to tell if the hair belongs to William or Katie, or even Sawyer. Same goes for the nail clippings, although I don’t see any in the trash.

I check my phone again. What’s next on the list?

(5.) Ear swabs.

I guess I can get a Q-tip and swab William’s ear real quick. If I’m careful, maybe Katie won’t notice.

(6.) Toothbrush.

(7.) Drinking glass.

I decide taking William’s toothbrush or drinking glass home would be too obvious to escape Katie’s attention. Besides, I’m not about to steal anything from the home of a single mother, who could potentially be the mother of my firstborn son.

(8.) Mucus on facial tissue or paper towel.

(9.) Drinking straw.

I guess I can try to get some of William’s drool on Kleenex, or make him drink through a straw somehow and take that straw home. But where would I even get a straw from?

I wash my hands then open Katie’s medicine cabinet and rifle through it.

I knew she’d have them.

Armed with the two Q-tips and the two Kleenexes in my pockets, I step out of the bathroom, a man on a mission.