A little kid runs by, followed by his mother, who shoots me a dirty look. I mutter, “Sorry,” and turn back to Lainey, lowering my voice. “Is this your idea of a joke? If that Walter guy is actually your boyfriend—or, worse, your damn husband—then the last place you should be is with me.” She’s not wearing a ring, and if that baby is four months old, then she—what, moved right the hell on the day I left?

Lainey looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Kody is yours.”

“How is that even possible? We used condoms every single damn time.” I have to fight to keep my voice down.

“Yes.” She nods in agreement. “Except—”

I railroad right over her. “So how the fuck can it be mine, unless you fished a used condom out of a wastebasket and turkey basted yourself?”

She raises a hand right in my face. “Okay, that is just . . . absolutely disgusting and appalling. It’s also disturbing that you could come up with something so ludicrous without even having to think about it.”

She has a point. Also, it’s something I could see Sissy doing, because she was a certifiable lunatic. And now the woman I thought might be my soul mate is clearly one as well. I should take a vow of celibacy. “What other explanation do you have? Unless I magically inseminated you from across the country,” I snap.

Lainey’s lips thin into a line, and she pins me with a look that makes me feel about two feet tall—which is pretty impressive, considering my mother is the only person who has the power to do that.

“Because we used protection every time except the last time.”

I shake my head. “That’s not—” I filter through the foggy memories from that morning. The phone call that came at 3:00 a.m., my brother’s panic, setting up my flight to LA, and throwing all my stuff in my duffel and starting the truck.

Only when I was ready to leave did I go back upstairs and do the thing I desperately didn’t want to: say goodbye to Lainey. I remember how frantic we were when we realized we’d reached the end sooner than we’d meant to, how intense the sex had been, how it ended far too soon . . . because I hadn’t even thought about a condom.

“But it was only that one time.” I scrub a hand over my face.

“That’s really all it takes. I was fertile, and you’re apparently virile.” Her tone is matter-of-fact, but her voice shakes with anger. “I tried to contact you as soon as I realized. I called every alpaca farm in New York but couldn’t track you down. I even called the cabin, but of course no one ever answered. I had no other way to get in touch with you. Well, I guess if I’d bothered watching anything other than Netflix and documentaries, I might have figured it out.” Lainey grips her phone tightly in her hands, lips pursed as if she’s waiting for another accusation.

If I hadn’t been in such a rush that morning, I would have given her my cell number. Hell, I would’ve given her the whole truth if I’d had the chance. I look at her, really look at her. She’s scared and sad and angry and guarded. My stomach twists and drops. “I have a son?”

She nods, and her chin trembles as she asks, “Would you like to see a picture of him?”

“Yeah. Yes. Please.”

With shaking hands, she punches a code into her phone again. It’s old—a smartphone, but it’s been around for a while. She scrolls through some pictures until she finds one she likes and holds it out so I can see. “Go ahead, take it.” She wraps my hands around the device and slides a little closer, her cheek brushing my arm. “He’s so beautiful.”

I stare at the two-dimensional little face in the screen, looking for . . . I don’t know. Something that reminds me of myself? He’s laughing at the camera, the end of Lainey’s braid clutched in his chubby little fist. He has Lainey’s dark hair and her nose, but that smile is all mine, and so is the little dimple popping in his right cheek.

I swallow thickly, reality finally setting in. I consider all the things I missed: her entire pregnancy, his birth, the first four months of his life. She’s been doing this all on her own.

And she’s always been close to her family—even when she was staying with me in Alaska, she called her parents at least twice a week and spent a good hour on the phone with them. So what had happened to make her come all the way here and raise a baby alone? There are so many questions that don’t have answers. Except one: this baby is definitely mine.

“Can I meet him?” I ask.

Lainey bites her lip. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea right now.”

“You don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to meet my four-month-old son who I didn’t know existed until now?”

“Don’t you want a paternity test or something?” Her fingers go to her lips.

“Well, I might if he didn’t look like me, and yeah, it’s probably a good idea regardless just to make it all official—and I’m pretty sure my agent will insist on it, so we’ll have to set something up—but for now I’d like to meet him.”

Lainey’s eyes are wide, and she’s practically eating her fingernails. I set the phone down and take her hands in mine. “Please, Lainey. Put yourself in my shoes—I’ve already missed out on so much.”

She exhales in a heavy rush. “Let me message Eden.” She quickly types out a text. It only takes a few moments before she gets a response. She holds up the phone. On the screen is a picture of Kody, swaddled in a blanket in a crib, a stuffed teddy bear beside him. “He’s sleeping.”

“That’s okay. I don’t mind if you don’t.”

“I’ll let her know we’re on our way.”

Lainey’s quiet on the way back to her apartment building. I don’t push conversation, even though I have questions. It’s clear she’s already overwhelmed, and I don’t want to make it worse, since it’ll only make her more anxious. When we were in Alaska together, I’d distract her with sex whenever she got nervous. Everything is different, though—she’s different—and now I know why.

I follow her into the apartment building. Thankfully we don’t have to wait long for the elevator. When we get to the eleventh floor, Lainey holds up a hand and peeks out into the hallway. She brings her finger to her lips, signaling that I should be quiet. Then she grabs me by the wrist and pulls me out of the elevator and down the hall. I don’t know why we’re trying to be all stealth like we’re pulling a heist, not going back to her apartment so I can meet my son.

Jesus. I have a son. I’m not sure when that thought alone is going to stop feeling completely surreal.

She roots around in her jacket pocket and quietly retrieves the key. She eases it into the lock and slowly, carefully turns it, grimacing as it clicks. She sucks in a sharp breath and pushes the door open, ushering me in. Her palm lands on my back, urging me forward as she closes the door.

“You wanna—” She slaps her palm over my mouth and makes a shushing motion.

I hold my hands up like I’m being held at gunpoint. After a few breaths she drops her hand and drags me away from the door.

Eden appears in the hallway. The two of them make random hand gestures I don’t understand.