My phone dinged, rousing me from a mid-afternoon nap. I blinked, then lifted it to read the message.
@RoryWestacre: Hi, you don’t know me, but I’m dating Max’s brother. Can we talk? I know this is out of the blue, but it’s important.
I scanned the woman’s profile then accepted the friend request, astonishment scouring away the last tendrils of sleep.
After all this time, someone from Max’s family had finally reached out.
Movement came from the cot next to my bed.
“You’re awake!” I set down my phone and collected my daughter, holding my little redhead close.
Max’s daughter.
The one he’d never acknowledged, met, or cared about, even when told about her existence to his face.
After our last night together, our unexpected meeting and passionate clinch, I’d assumed we’d parted on better terms, but no.
Emotions hit me, and I stomped down the fresh wave of hurt.
This time, everything was different. If I could get information from this stranger, I was going to force the situation.
Max couldn’t ignore what was right in front of him.
He was going to meet our baby, whether he liked it or not.
