I know.

I’ve always known.

I don’t care. Never have done, never will.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Marie exclaims. “Of course he’s the father.”

“I’m afraid she’s right,” the doctor says. “Based on the blood types, there’s no way that Mr. Kaye is the father. Not the biological one, anyway.”

I feel three sets of eyes on me, but the only set I care about are closed. Olivia’s in a deep sleep and likely won’t wake up for hours. When she does, she’s going to be groggy and unresponsive. I want my daughter back.

“I’m not the father,” I admit. “I hoped I’d be a blood match, but….”

I can’t save my daughter. She’ll go on the list and a match will probably be found eventually, but who’s to say if the transplant will take. I’ve never felt so completely and utterly helpless.

“Parker, what’s going on?” Marie asks. “How do you know you’re not the father?”

“The dates don’t match,” I reply wearily. “When Shannon went for her first scan, our doctor narrowed down the conception to a two-week period when we’d been apart due to various business commitments. She didn’t even bother trying to come up with an excuse.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Marie asks.

“We were going to split up. I agreed to let her stay at the house and pretend we were a couple until she could find somewhere else to live. The father never stepped up to the plate. I used to hear her argue with him on the phone, and eventually, she stopped trying. By that point, it was too late. I couldn’t kick her out when she was seven months pregnant.”

No one speaks. I want to reach over and grab Carly’s hand, but I’m not sure what her response will be. She’s here for Olivia. I can’t believe I ever doubted her commitment to my child. I’ve been such a fucking idiot, and now it’s too late to do anything about it.

“Sir,” the doctor says softly, “I hate to ask, but do you know who the father is?”

“No,” I reply, with a shake of the head. “His name’s Johan Contra, but I’ve never been able to track him down.”

“That’s an unusual name,” Carly says. “He shouldn’t be hard to find.”

“I’ve had detectives look, but they can’t find any trace of him.”

“Are you sure that’s his real name?”

I nod. “It must be. I write checks to him once every month or so.”

“Wait,” Marie says, “you write checks to him? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Clearly.”

“You don’t want him to come forward,” Carly says. “You want him to stay out of your life. And Olivia’s.”

“Something like that,” I reply.

“Where do you send the checks?” Carly asks.

“To a P.O. Box.”

“I remember you asking me to post letters.”

“That was to him.”

I let go of Olivia’s hand for the first time in hours and rub my eyes. I can’t believe this is happening. I want to open my eyes and wake up in bed. Preferably next to Carly.

“What happens now?” Marie asks. “Will she get a donor from the list?”

“Yes,” Dr. Schmidt replies. “Like I said, a live donor is preferable, but as a young child she will get preferential treatment.”

“What if I find the father?” I ask.

“Assuming he could be persuaded to undergo the operation, that would be ideal.”

“I’m very persuasive.”

Dr. Schmidt nods slowly, and I get the distinct impression he will look the other way should the biological father be dragged into the hospital with a couple of black eyes.

“How long do we have?” Marie asks. “You said it was urgent.”

“It is. There’s no guarantee that the first transplant will take, so I don’t want to wait any more than two weeks to start the process.”

“I’ll find him,” I reply. “I don’t know how, but I’ll find him.”

The doctor hands me a card. “That has my direct line number. Call me if you have any questions. A nurse will be in shortly to check on Olivia, but she’s going to be fine for the time being. We have a great team here.”

“Thanks.”

The doctor heads to the exit, when a nurse meets him in the doorway and passes him a note. The doctor reads the note and looks straight over at Carly. Please God, don’t tell me she’s sick as well. I don’t know what I’d do without her here by my side. And Olivia’s going to ask for her the second she wakes up.

“Am I a match?” Carly asks the doctor.

The doctor nods. “You’re O- which means you can donate to O+.”

“What’s going on?” I ask.

Carly smiles and lets out a sigh of relief which turns into tears.

“I can donate,” she replies. “I can donate my liver.”

“We prefer family members for live donations,” Dr. Schmidt says.

“But there’s no rule against it?” Carly asks. The doctor shakes his head. “Then it’s settled. I’ll do it.”

Carly didn’t even hesitate. She must have gone to the blood lab the minute she arrived. When she found out she was a match, she offered to donate part of her liver without missing a beat.

Marie’s right; I used Olivia as an excuse to avoid getting hurt. Carly might not be interested in me for anything more than a fun time, but she would do anything for Olivia.

“Can you give us a minute?” I say, while looking at Carly. The doctor and Marie leave us alone in the room with Olivia.

“What’s wrong?” Carly asks. “This is good news. We should be celebrating.”

“I can’t let you do this. It’s too big.”

“I’m sure it’s a completely safe procedure.”

“No procedure is completely safe.”

“I don’t care. I’ll take the risk.”

“She’s my daughter.” The words leave a lump in my throat and Carly looks away as I say them. I ignore it. “I’d give my life for her, but I can’t ask you to take the same risk. That’s not what you signed up for.”

It feels like a lifetime ago that Carly came to my house to interview for the job as Olivia’s babysitter. I’d thought she was hot as hell, but it never occurred to me that we’d go as far as we did.

“I know I’m not her mother,” Carly replies. “But I love this kid, and going under the knife is the least I can do. I’d never be able to live with myself if something happened to her and I didn’t at least try.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want you to have to go through this.”

Carly takes a deep breath and lets out a loud sigh of frustration that’s almost loud enough to wake Olivia. “Stop being so proud. I know you want to be the one to save her, but you can’t. You’ve raised her as your own and you’ve done a phenomenal job. It’s not your fault that you can’t donate your own liver. Let me help.”

She means it. She’s not just saying this out of misguided loyalty or to prove me wrong. Carly is genuinely prepared to donate part of her liver to save my daughter.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, before repeating it louder. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Carly asks with a frown.

“For how I treated you last week. I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you.”

“Why were you angry? I thought we had fun.”

“We did. That’s the problem. I had a little too much fun.”

“Me too. I wanted to keep it going.”

“It would have ended in heartbreak.”

“I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

“I meant mine. I should have told you this before, but I’ve fallen for you. Big time. I don’t want us to just do the crazy stuff. I want the normal stuff as well.”

“You do?”

I nod. “It’s cool that you don’t. Trust me, I’ve been the one keeping it casual more times than I can remember. I just panicked when I was on the receiving end. I never should have yelled at you.”

“No, you shouldn’t. Especially because you were wrong.”

“I know I was wrong to—”

“No, I mean you were wrong. I didn’t want it to just be about the sex either. Hell, my ass can’t take that kind of abuse every night.”

Olivia collapsing in the restaurant hit me like a truck, and now I feel like a bus has just driven over my aching body to boot. It was bad enough thinking that Carly didn’t have feelings for me. Now I know she had those feelings too, but it’s too late. I fucked it up, and she’ll never forgive me.

But I’m going to try anyway.

“Carly?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You said that. And I accept your apology.”

“Good. Because I love you, and when this is all over, I want to give us another shot.”

Carly looks away. That can’t be a good sign. I’ve only ever said those words to one other person and she always said them right back. Mind you, neither of us really meant it, so that made them a lot less meaningful.

This time I meant it, but I don’t think I’m going to hear it back.

“This is an emotional time,” Carly says. “I don’t want you to say something you’ll later regret.”

“My only regret is not saying it earlier.” If I’m going to be embarrassed, I might as well double down on it. “I love you, Carly Wicks.”

When she looks back up, I spot a tear in her already-red eyes. “I love you too.”

This is probably when most couples kiss or take things to the bedroom. Carly and I settle for sharing a smile. I turn my attention back to Olivia, but something next to the bed catches Carly’s eye.

“Parker?”

“Yes?”

“Did you steal a bottle of ketchup from New River?”

I look over at the bottle next to Olivia’s bed. “I guess I did. Shit, I never paid the tab. Tell your roommate I’ll settle up.”

I don’t know how much time passes before a nurse comes in to run some more tests. He leaves and Marie returns with cups of coffee for Carly and me.

I owe Marie an explanation. She’s always treated Olivia like her niece, and now she finds out that she’s not biologically related. Marie deserves to know what happened to my wife and so does Carly.

“You should take a seat,” I say to Marie, who has resumed pacing the room.

Marie sits down, but she’s full of nervous energy. “I’ve been thinking,” Marie says. “About Olivia’s real father.”

“Do you recognize the name?” I ask.

“No,” she replies with a shake of the head. “But don’t you get it? It was probably him. He must have been the man who killed Shannon.”

“No, it wasn’t him.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. I know exactly who killed Shannon. I should have told you, but I’ve been desperate to keep it a secret from everyone, especially Olivia.”

“Why would you keep it a secret?” Marie practically screams, before remembering that she should keep her voice down. “You nearly went to prison.”

“I don’t want Olivia to ever find out,” I reply calmly. “Shannon wasn’t murdered. She killed herself.”

Marie is—for once—speechless. If the circumstances weren’t so glum, I’d cherish the moment.

The room is silent except for the noise from the machines Olivia is hooked up to. I can’t bear that noise, so I break the silence. “Someone needs to talk.”

“Yeah—you,” Marie replies. “Why did they arrest you for murder, if it was a suicide?”

“Bad luck,” I reply. “I was the one to find the body, and in my panic, I made a mess of the crime scene. My fingerprints were all over the knife and of course, I was covered in blood. Neighbors overheard us arguing a few hours before, but that’s nothing new.”

“Didn’t you tell that to the police?”

I shake my head. “I would have done if it ended up in court, but this way Olivia doesn’t have to grow up thinking her mother killed herself.”

“Yeah, it’s much better she think her dad killed her mom instead,” Marie says snarkily.

“She’ll know I’m innocent.”

“You should still tell her.”

“Never,” I insist.

“Why not?”

“Shannon was pregnant.” The words come from Carly, not me. Marie and I look over at the one person who seems capable of keeping everything together. “Olivia’s mom killed herself when she was eight-months pregnant. She tried to kill Olivia too.”

I nod. “Olivia can never know that. I’m going to feed her lovely little stories about what a nice person her biological mother was, and she never needs to be any the wiser.”

It sounds weird, but I don’t want Olivia to hate Shannon. I’ve done enough research on suicide since her death to know that it can rarely be blamed on a person being selfish or deserving of hatred. Shannon had serious mental health issues. If I’d been more attentive I might have recognized the signs and persuaded her to seek help. I doubt she bore any hatred for our unborn child. She just wasn’t well.

“The father’s blackmailing you,” Carly says, as she pieces it all together. “He knows about the suicide and he knows you want to keep it secret.”

“He has a letter from Shannon that makes it clear she was suicidal.”

“I’m not sure you can keep this from Olivia,” Marie says.

“Me either,” Carly agrees. “But I also don’t think this is the time to discuss it. I’m going to go talk to the doctor about being a donor.”

“No,” I say firmly. “Not yet.”

“We don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, we do. If I can find the father, you don’t have to go through with this.”

“And if you can’t find him?”

I don’t answer. I’m going to find him. That scumbag has hidden from me for three years. That ends now. If he can save my daughter’s life then every cent I’ve given him will be worth it.