After seeing the last of her taillights, Dylan closed the front door and went outside on the balcony so he could look at the ocean waves. He needed to clear his head, figure out his next move. The best way he knew to clear his head was to get on his surfboard. The waves were small, but he didn’t care. He just needed to blow off some steam and get his head screwed back on straight. After he spent several hours pounding the waves, Dylan jumped into the shower with clarity of mind—he knew exactly what he needed to do. He wasn’t about to let this thing fester overnight. He was going to have to confront Mackenzie. He was going to ask her point-blank if Hope was his child. Direct was the only way he knew how to do business. Dylan dried off quickly, pulled on some casual clothes and then dialed a familiar number.
“Jordan. I’m glad I caught you.” Dylan held a pen in his hand poised above a pad of paper. “Listen—I think I may have a job for your cousin Mackenzie. Can I grab her number from you real quick?”
* * *
Mackenzie put all of Hope’s medicine bottles back in the cabinet. Even though Hope had fought it valiantly, getting injured at the barn, however minor, had worn her out. After she ate and took her medicine, Hope had gone to bed early.
“So tell me what happened,” Rayna said over the phone. “They actually met today?”
Mackenzie pushed some recipe boxes out of the way and sat down on the love seat. “I needed a ride. He was there. It just happened.”
“Well...you know I don’t believe in coincidences...”
“I know...”
“So...what are you going to do?”
Mackenzie slumped down farther into the cushion and rubbed her eyes. “I’m going to get myself through this week, and then I’m going to call him. Ask to meet.”
“I think you’re doing the right thing. Do you know what you’re going to say?”
“No. Not a clue.” Mackenzie stared up at the ceiling. “I have a couple of days to think about it. What’s the etiquette on something like this?”
“I don’t know. We could look it up online.”
Mackenzie kicked off her shoes and pulled off her socks. “I was joking, Ray.”
“I know. But I bet there’s a ton of stuff out there about how you tell your baby daddy that he is your baby daddy...”
Mackenzie curled into the fetal position on the love seat. “Ugh. I hate that term. Baby daddy.”
“Sorry. But you know what I mean. You know someone had to write a ‘how to’ manual. There’s probably a DNA for Dummies out there...”
Mackenzie’s phone chirped in her ear, signaling call waiting. “Hold on, Ray. Someone’s calling.”
Mackenzie took the phone away from her ear and looked at the incoming call.
Dylan Axel was the name that flashed across the screen.
“Dylan’s on the other line,” Mackenzie told Ray.
“I’m hanging up,” Rayna said quickly. “Call me back!”
Dylan couldn’t sit still while he waited for Mackenzie to answer. He had been staring at Mackenzie’s number for nearly an hour. Before he dialed her number, he began to question his own logic. Yet, after nearly an hour of careful consideration, his gut just wouldn’t stop prodding him to place the call. If Hope was his daughter, then he had a right to know.
“Hello?” Mackenzie picked up the line.
“It’s Dylan, Mackenzie.” It was work to control his tone. “How’s Hope?”
“She’s worn out, but doing fine. The doctor cleared her to return to the barn tomorrow...”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Dylan was pacing in a circular pattern.
After an uncomfortable silence, Mackenzie asked, “Um...did Jordan give you my private number?”
“Yes.” Dylan needed to get to the point. “She did. Look—there’s something that I need to ask you, Mackenzie.”
There was a razor-sharp edge in Dylan’s tone that brought her to the edge of the love seat.
“What’s that?” Her attempt to sound casual failed.
“And I need you to give me an honest answer...”
Dylan stopped pacing, closed his eyes and tried to control his out-of-control heartbeat, as he posed his simple, straightforward question:
“Is Hope my child?”
Mackenzie sat like a statue on the edge of the love seat, but bit her lip so hard that she could taste blood on her tongue. Once again, fate had snatched control away from her grasp. She had wanted to broach the subject with Dylan gently, calmly, at the right moment and in the right setting. This wasn’t how she wanted it to go at all.
Dylan waited impatiently at the other end of the line. But he had heard Mackenzie suck in her breath when he asked the question, followed by silence. For him, he already had his answer. Hope was his daughter.
“Mackenzie.” Dylan repeated the question, “Is Hope my child?”
Mackenzie stared in the direction of Hope’s room, grateful that she had gone to bed early. “I...” She whispered into the phone, “I don’t think that we should discuss this over the phone.”
“You’re probably right,” Dylan agreed. “You pick the place and time and I’ll be there.”
“I can meet after work tomorrow.” Mackenzie pushed herself to a stand. “But I don’t know where we should meet.”
“Let’s meet at my place.” Dylan’s forehead was in his hand, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.
Mackenzie pressed her back against the wall and crossed one arm tightly over her midsection. “I’ll get my friends to watch Hope. I can be at your place around six-fifteen, six-thirty.”
“I’ll see you then.” Dylan opened his eyes. “Good night, Mackenzie.”
“Good night.” Mackenzie touched the end button and slowly slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor. She wrapped her arms tightly around her legs and rested her forehead on her knees. From the moment she had held Hope in her arms at the hospital, she had felt, like a splinter under her skin, this day would eventually come. And now that it had, she felt undeniably shell-shocked and strangely...relieved.
But with the relief came another strain of uncertainty. She prayed for Hope’s sake that Dylan wouldn’t reject her. But what if Dylan decided that he wanted to play a larger role in Hope’s life? She had raised Hope on her own for ten years. It had always been Mackenzie and Hope against the world. And she knew she was being selfish, but she liked it that way.
When Dylan ended the call, he started to straighten up the condo to keep his body busy and his mind occupied. He moved restlessly from room to room, cleaning surfaces and pounding pillows into submission. He wound up back in