Chapter 0337

“I was indeed,” Daniel says, pulling a messy clump of hair from his pocket. “Sorry that it’s...all ina heap,” he murmurs,

awkwardly handing the lump of Kent’s hair to the doctor. I feel very odd, watching it change hands, fighting a ridiculous urge that

rises in me to jump up and touch it myself.

Don’t be so creepy, I chide myself. Or desperate.

So, I force myself to relax back in my chair, watching the doctor take the sample and seal it into a little clear bag. Then, he takes

the tube with Daniel's cheek sample and tosses it in the trash.

“Will that be enough?” Daniel asks, anxious. The doctor holds the bag up to eye-level to take a better look.

“Should be,” the doctor says, looking closely. “I’m seeing some roots there, so, it should be good.”

“Two days?” I ask, standing up for real now and coming to Daniel's side.

“Two days,” the doctor says, nodding to us with a smile. “And no reason to suspect anything will go awry. Leave it with me, and

we'll get you the results you’re looking for.”

“Thanks,” I say, wrapping my arms around Daniel's arm and resting my head on his shoulder. “We owe you one. Big time.”

“Your generous payment is enough,” the doctor says, giving us a wink and boxing Kent's hair sample up with my blood sample,

ready to be sent off to the lab. “But also,” he says, hesitating before looking up at us with hope in his eyes. “If you wouldn’t

mind...putting in a good word with Janeen...”

“She'll be keeping an eye out for you at the club,” I say, giving him a little wink. “You have our assurances on that.” Janeen was

in on it, of course — Dr. Banks has been her customer at the club for months now. She’s the one who introduced us.

“A chance with a girl like that?” Dr. Banks says, sighing and sinking his hands into his pockets. “That’s the real reward.”

I grin at him, pleased he sees what I see in my sister.

And then, saying our grateful goodbyes, Daniel and I head out the door.

By the time we get to the parking lot, Natalia and Alessi are already gone. I look up at Daniel, who is already looking down at me.

“What next?” I ask, curious.

“You tell me, mastermind,” he says, giving me a little nudge with his elbow.

I smile at him, knowing that he’s asking me for more information about what I have planned — about why I wanted Natalia and

Alessi here, and why I want them to believe, vehemently, that this is a Bianci baby.

But...those plans? They're just not fully in place yet. So, I answer his question in another way.

“Do you want to go to McDonalds?” I ask, hopeful. “I didn’t get my snack in there, as promised.”

Daniel laughs and we head off to the car together. “I think I like pregnant Fay,” he murmurs, cheerful. “She’s got her priorities in

the right place.”

We spend a pleasant evening at home that night. Papa Thompson makes a lasagna from scratch and we spend hours sitting at

the table outside, eating piles of garlic bread and talking cheerfully about nothing in that way that family does.

The entire evening, I feel Daniel’s eyes on me. But I ignore it, needing to not face him right now, to not...not talk about it.

Because while Daniel and I are on good terms — great terms, even, now that we’re husband and wife — I know he wants me to

ask about his morning at the jail with Kent.

And I just...can’t go there right now.

And I haven't really figured out why.

So, I ignore all of the opportunities he

makes for me to step aside with hj

for a private w dyklacstantedH rst

pean ber clinic, and then

when we had lunch — just opening

little conversational opportunities for

me to ask. Please read the original

content at .

And at each one, I not-so-skillfully passed.

He let me, at first — probably thinking I just wanted to be comfortably at home before digging into it. And maybe I thought so too.

But now that I'm home?

God, the bare idea of even...talking about Kent. It raises an almost physical pain in my chest — all of the fear, and the anxiety,

and the grief of these past few weeks just comes roaring back.

I do my best to pat those emotions

down in me as I nurse the

non-alcoholic beer my dad brought

me — ble shirg, aba ya'sb

Bate ote and wanting me to be

part of the group. But Daniel's looking

at me again, not-so-subtly nodding

towards the edge of the deck, where

we know Janeen and Jerome will

leave us alone. Please read the

original content at .

But I just pretend I don’t see his nod,

turning to laugh at Janeen and

Jerome's conversation abou om

whatever sports (arts Blaying right

row. Kalbn's know which one -— I

haven't been listening. But it doesn't

matter — I just allow myself to be

carried away in the empty bliss of a

pleasant conversation. Please read

the original content at

.

Because the alternative? Of having to address my reality, to really think about what the hell I’m going to do next?