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“Bro, you got it. What the fuck happened?”
“Do you remember Aria? The woman from the dating app I went on a few dates with a long time ago?”
“Nah.”
“Yeah, why would you, she was fucking forgettable. Well, guess what? She showed up at my house today with a surprise delivery. She’s pregnant. And she’s saying the baby’s mine.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“I know. Even worse, Macy was there for the entire conversation.”
“No,” he breathed in a hushed tone.
“Yes.”
“Bet that didn’t go over well.”
“Also correct. She’s hurt and upset, understandably so. I told her things didn’t have to change between us, I’d work all of this out, but she freaked the fuck out. And I get it—it’s a lot to digest and this has the potential to get complicated. But I thought we were solid, man. I had no idea she’d react so—” I paused, searching for the right word, “strongly, I guess.”
Benji chuckled, a low, hearty laugh, twisting my gut into an even tighter pretzel.
“Dude. None of this is funny.”
“You’re right, you’re right. Sorry. It’s cute that you thought she wouldn’t react ‘strongly’—as you put it—to the news that you might be having a baby with another woman. I love you, man, but you can be really naïve sometimes. What woman wants to hear about your previous sexual encounters? Pro tip: none of them. And then for the evidence to show up and hit her in the face? Bro. Terrible.”
I heaved out a sigh, depressing the gas pedal and speeding up, taking my rage out on the road. Of course Benji was right. He knew females, understood them.How had I missed this class?Seemed really fucking critical to success in life. I was probably in a computer lab when he was flirting with girls, learning how they ticked.
“So now what? Since I clearly messed this up.”
“For starters, find out if the baby’s even yours.”
“Any idea on how soon one can get a paternity test done?”
“Don’t you watch any talk shows?” Benji asked.
“No. I’m typically working.”
“Because you’re stressed, Imma let that one slide. You can get a paternity test done any time after eight weeks, dude. It’s super easy; all you do is a cheek swab, she gets a blood test—word to the wise, make sure you’re present for that—then they run the DNA test to see if you’re a match. Oh yeah—go to an accredited lab, too. You need good equipment for this. Don’t listen to her if she suggests some over-the-counter bullshit; I’d never trust a drugstore test. Blood is best.”
“Good advice. What are the stats on these things? How accurate are they?”
“Like 99.9%. Really solid.”
I exhaled. “At least I don’t have to wait until the baby’s born. How long does it take for the results to come back?”
“Usually about two weeks. Depends on how many tests they’re running at the time. You can pay extra for a rush job, though.”
I immediately knew I’d pay whatever I had to in order to get those results in the least amount of time humanly possible.
“She has to take it, right? Like, she can’t refuse, can she?” I asked. I could feel my hair turning grey already.
“If she does, have her served by a lawyer. The state doesn’t like when people screw around with that kind of stuff. Anyway, if she refuses, you wouldn’t have to pay child support.”
“Yeah, but Macy doesn’t want anything to do with me right now. If she found out I turned my back on Aria for any reason, forget it. I might as well not even bother.”
“Aria will take the test. I’m sure she wants your money, bro. For better or for worse, you’re a target now.”
My gut clenched, fiery anger surging through me. Benji was right.
