Free The Best Man's Baby by Victoria James

business.”
    But he wasn’t really a Manning. He was just the filthy bastard son that his parents had been forced to raise. “It’s really Quinn’s business,” Jake said, tearing his gaze away from William’s. Claire’s father was the only person who knew the truth about him. He wasn’t about to confide in him.
    “All right then, Jake, you give me a call when we’re ready for final signatures,” the old man said with a wave of his hand.
    Jake gave him a nod and then left the wood-paneled office. He felt good about what he was doing. He would just have to make Quinn understand somehow. He was going to be able to give Claire the life she deserved. Maybe one day she would feel proud to be married to him. Maybe their child would be proud of him. Maybe he or she would look up to him.
    Maybe Jake Manning could be the man he thought he could be before his father started telling him he was nothing.

    Large, fat raindrops splattered across Jake’s iPhone screen. He sat on top of his Harley, parked beside Claire’s Volvo, on her driveway, blankly staring at the text she must have sent him while he was at William Walters’s house:
    “Sorry Jake, too tired for dinner tonight. Maybe some other time. Claire.”
    She was canceling on him? Some other time? When? After the baby was born? He scowled and wiped the accumulating water drops off his screen. He slipped his phone into his jacket pocket and walked toward her front door. She was back to giving him the cold shoulder.
    He ignored the whispering in his ear, the whispers that accompanied him whenever failure was imminent, the voice that refused to be silent whenever things went wrong, seemed to come from nowhere, telling him this was his own fault. He was getting what he deserved. Claire and the baby were better off without him. And he hated that the voice was his father’s. Jake shrugged his shoulders, willing that voice to stay in the recesses of his mind.
    He knocked twice and waited. And waited. After what must have been a few minutes he tried the door. Locked. Jake let out a frustrated sigh. Claire didn’t want to see him, but he wasn’t going to give up. He took a step back and that’s when he noticed there weren’t any lights on in the house. Dusk had set in now, so either she wasn’t home or she was sleeping. She had said she was tired, and she’d looked tired. He didn’t want to leave her, though.
    He made his way down the porch and rounded the corner to the backyard. Just last night he’d been here, thinking his whole life had been turned upside down. And now…well, not much had changed. Claire wasn’t there. On the off chance she was ignoring him and sitting inside her house, he went up to the kitchen door and peered through the glass. No sign of her. No lights, nothing.
    He tried the door and to his surprise, the knob turned, and he let himself in. Why hadn’t she locked the door? He closed the door behind him and took off his wet boots before walking through the kitchen into the hallway. He spotted her navy heels at the bottom of the staircase. He walked up the steps lightly. There were four doors. One looked like storage, the other a spare room, and the other a bathroom. The last room had its door almost shut. Jake knocked lightly and the door swung open.
    A white antique-looking bed sat on the far wall of the bedroom, with Claire sprawled on top of a pink-and-cream floral duvet. She was still wearing her suit skirt and top, the jacket in a heap beside her. She must be exhausted, he thought, as he walked across the room. The only sound was her deep, even breathing. Her dark hair stood out against the pale duvet, her cheeks slightly flushed. Without thinking, he reached out, his hands having a mind of their own, helpless as they brushed a piece of impossibly silky hair off her face. His hand flexed painfully as he made himself pull away from her.
    Jake drew a deep breath, taking a few steps away from Claire. He spotted a white throw blanket on a