Free The Playboy's Baby by JM Stewart Page A

Annie’s mouth. Then he pushed the swab back into the protective plastic cap and set it aside. He turned to Dillon, picked up another one, and repeated the procedure. When finished, he set the swab with the other and turned to smile at the two of them.
    “That’s it.”
    Doctor Marley had changed a lot since she last saw him. The small man had grown a protruding belly and the salt and pepper hair she remembered had turned completely gray. The bald spot on the top of his head had become more pronounced too. His warm smile still lit up his entire face.
    “I expected blood.” Dillon bounced Annie in his arms, a perplexed look on his face.
    Emma grinned and nodded at Annie. “I expected her to scream.”
    “Nope. They’ve advanced DNA testing quite a bit. Just a cheek swab is all it takes anymore.” The doctor tickled Annie’s chin, smiling again when she giggled. “Easier on the little ones.” He folded his hands in front of him and nodded in Dillon’s direction. “You should have your results in two to three weeks.”
     
     
    Emma pulled a bottle off the display rack and turned to hand it to Dillon. “She likes these.”
    He stood behind her in front of a shopping cart, Annie in the seat in front of him. They’d gone to the furniture section of the local baby emporium first, picked out a beautiful dark wooden crib, far more expensive than what she’d have chosen. She took Dillon aisle by aisle, pointing out the items Annie needed and the brands she preferred. Bottles. Teethers. Diapers.
    Dillon nodded and motioned for her to throw things into the cart, but otherwise remained silent, a slightly bewildered look on his face, like he hadn’t quite assimilated it all yet.
    She found it odd to see him there, in front of a shopping cart full of baby gear. He looked like a parent. A lost parent, but a parent no less. It contradicted the playboy image the papers made him out to be, contradicted the arrogant rich boy she grew up with, simply because the father image suited him. He looked good with Annie. So oddly right and so far he’d fallen right into it. He picked her up from her nap an hour earlier and only put her down when forced to put her in the car seat before they left the house.
    Annie seemed to have taken right to him too. She continually reached for him, offering him an endless supply of chubby little smiles.
    Dillon took the bottle from her, turning it over in his hand. “What’s so special about this one?”
    “They’re designed to be easy for breastfed babies to switch between breast and bottle. It’s the shape of the nipple.”
    “Janey breastfed?”
    “Yeah.” At the mention of her sister, memories slid to mind, a sense of melancholy washing through her chest. She gave a slow shake of her head, remembering those awful first days after her sister’s death. She had struggled to deal with her grief while caring for a baby who seemed to somehow know her mother was gone. “I think I must have tried every other bottle and nipple combination out there. This was the only one she’d take.”
    “Do you think she knows?” Dillon’s question came low and quiet, his voice etched with pain.
    Emma nodded. “I think she was aware on some level that something changed. She didn’t sleep well for the first couple weeks and was real fussy there for a while.”
    She paused and made herself look over at him. Dillon gazed at Annie, his face awash in pain. One of her small hands curled around his index finger, which she attempted to shove into her mouth.
    “I really am sorry I didn’t contact you for the funeral.” The guilt had been eating up her stomach since she realized what she’d done two weeks ago. “You’re the only other person who loved her the way I did, and I robbed you of your chance to say goodbye.”
    He glanced at her. “It must have been hard for you.”
    The soft sympathy in his eyes threatened to unravel the shroud she held around herself, the one that kept her from dissolving into a