What Makes A Father. Teresa Southwick

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      “She researched pacifiers, Mom.” Mason stopped pacing the kitchen long enough to look at the woman who’d given birth to him. “I don’t know whether or not she’s a good mother, but both babies were clean, well-fed and happy. Well, one or the other was crying, but it was normal crying, if you know what I mean.”

      “I do,” Florence Blackburne said wryly. “And it’s not like she staged the scene. She had no idea you were going to stop by.”

      “That’s true.” He’d arrived home five days ago and told her everything. He’d started his job as an ER doctor and he was house hunting. None of it took his mind off the fact that he might be a father.

      “That poor woman. Losing her sister and now raising two infants by herself.” His mom was shaking her head and there was sympathy in her eyes. “I don’t know what I would have done without your father when you and your siblings were born. And I only had one baby at a time.”

      “Yeah. She looked really exhausted.” Pretty in spite of that, he thought. He remembered Jessica and Annie looked a lot like her. But their personalities were very different. Jess was a little wild, living on the edge. Annie seemed maternal, nurturing. Protective. Honest. The kind of woman he’d want to raise his children. If they were his children.

      The lab hadn’t notified him yet, but this was business day number five and he kept looking at his phone to make sure he hadn’t missed the call.

      “Checking your cell isn’t going to make the news come any faster. I’m sure the twins are yours.” His mother gave him her “mom” look, full of understanding and support.

      She loved kids and had four of them, never for a moment letting on that she’d sacrificed anything on their behalf. Mason was wired like her and badly wanted kids of his own. The woman he’d married had shared that dream, and the heartbreak of not being able to realize it had broken them up. The third miscarriage had cost him his child and his wife—he’d lost his whole family. If the experience had taught him anything, it was not to have expectations or get his hopes up.

      “If only DNA results happened as fast in real life as they do on TV,” he said.

      “Did the babies look like you?” Flo asked. “Eye color? Shape of the face? That strong, square jaw,” she teased.

      “They actually looked a lot like Annie. Their aunt. Hazel eyes. Blond hair. Pretty.” Something he didn’t share with his mother was that Annie Campbell had a very nice ass. Her baggy sweats had hid that asset, no pun intended, until she’d bent over to pick up a toy on the floor. There was no doubt in his mind that a shower and good night’s sleep would transform her into a woman who would turn heads on the street. “DNA is the only way to be sure.”

      “That’s just science. It’s no match for maternal instinct. And mine is telling me that those babies are my grandchildren.”

      “Don’t, Mom.”

      “What?” she asked innocently.

      “If you have expectations, you’re going to be let down.” Mason could give a seminar on strategies to avoid disappointment. The only surefire approach was to turn off emotion. Not until the science said it was okay could you let yourself care.

      Flo’s face took on a familiar expression, the one that said she knew what he was thinking and wanted to take away his pain. The woman was a force of nature and if she couldn’t do something, it couldn’t be done. Wisely she stayed silent about his past and the situation that had left him bruised and battered. And bitter.

      There was something to be said for Jessica’s philosophy of fun without complications. But Annie was right, too. He hadn’t used a condom and chose to believe the woman who’d said she had everything taken care of. Now he was on pins and needles waiting for the results of a test that could potentially change his life forever.

      It was almost five o’clock and the lab’s business hours were nearly over for the day. Maybe Annie hadn’t sent the samples as soon as she’d planned to. She did have a lot on her plate with two infants. It was possible—

      Mason’s phone vibrated, startling him even though he’d been waiting and checking. He stared at the Caller ID for a moment, immobilized.

      “For Pete’s sake, answer it,” his mother urged, nudging him out of his daze.

      He did, assured the caller that he was Mason Blackburne, then listened while the information was explained to him. “You’re sure?”

      They were completely confident in the results. Mason thanked the caller and pressed the off button on his phone.

      Flo stared at him anxious and expectant. “Well? Mason, I’m too old for this kind of suspense. Don’t make me wait—”

      “They’re mine,” he said simply.

      His voice was so calm and controlled when he was anything but. He was a father!

      It was a shock to hear the news he’d hoped for but shocks seemed to be just another day in the ER for him these days. Images flashed through his mind of meeting Jessica the day his divorce was final. She’d sat next to him at the bar. He really had only wanted to talk. A distraction from the fact that his carefully constructed life had fallen apart.

      For a while talking was all she’d done, telling him about her sister, Annie, living with her between jobs, and that he would like her. Then she’d flirted and charmed her way into his bed. He’d had a rough time of it and she promised sex without complications.

      Surprise! Let the complications begin. Oddly enough, complication number one was Annie Campbell.