Rachel Goes Back to School Ch. 05

She assumed my troubled expression related to being a daddy once again, and offered, "You loved having kids around."

I let her continue to show her enthusiasm but that night, when we were in bed, I returned to the issue and explained the reality.

"Rachel...the reversal didn't work. The tests were bad...almost nothing. I didn't want to upset you so I didn't say anything," I explained, and when a confused look appeared on her face, I clarified, "It's not my baby."

She took several rapid breaths and for a moment I thought she might cry but she collected herself and replied, "Yes, it is."

"Rachel..." I started.

"You said nothing...told me nothing!" she interrupted, angry that I hadn't shared the information.

"Rachel," I said again, but she turned her back to me and went quiet.

Multiple times over the next few days we revisited the issue but each time she declared that the baby she carried was mine. I even showed her a copy of the urologist report but she remained undeterred. Finally, I managed to get her to engage in a practical discussion about the sex that had occurred during the past month.

"Rachel, I know it's not a good subject and I realize I bear huge responsibility but we have to be realistic. The other men...Kott, Josh, Martin, the other guy...didn't use protection and they might have leaked," I challenged her, and then as a thought struck me, I asked, "And Larry? Was he careful?"

"So has yours," she countered, ignoring my question.

"Rachel, did Larry cum in you?" I pushed.

"I don't know," she replied and then, after a moment, added, "Maybe..."

Silence ensued but finally, hoping she would see the truth, I said in a soft voice, "You saw the report."

She turned and stared at me in silence as the seconds turned to minutes before she finally replied, "It's your fault."

"Yes..." I responded thinking it was the best way to proceed.

"I'm...I'm not..." she started but stood and left before she completed the thought.

Somehow, we started discussing testing and after some internet work learned that in vitro paternity determination was possible. It took several weeks to locate a lab as we didn't want to share the situation with our normal providers and on the first visit, they drew her blood and swabbed my cheek. The testing took ten days so there was nothing we could do but go home and wait. We tried to get solace through our normal routine but almost all my thoughts remained focused on the pregnancy and I felt certain Rachel was in a similar place. So far, we hadn't discussed options based on the forthcoming test results and I cringed at the thought knowing it would be devastating.

Exactly ten days later as I sat on the sofa watching TV, Rachel walked by, dropped a sheet of paper in my lap, and said, "Congratulations, you're going to be a father."

On the top, I could see the logo of the lab, and scanning down the page I landed on a sentence that stated the paternity probability at 99.998% Suddenly, it felt like the weight of the world left my shoulders and a huge smile came to my face.

"Okay, well...okay..." I babbled and when I looked up and saw Rachel looking at me smugly, I said, "I'm sorry. You were right."

She maintained her expression for a little longer and then replied, "Did you really think I wouldn't know?"

"I should have listened," I answered knowing it was a debate I didn't want to win.

"Oh, and I'm retiring...as a...your slut," she declared as a smile turned the corners of her mouth.

I stood and took her in my arms feeling my body hum from the combination of excitement and relief. After squeezing her hard, I found her lips and kissed her tenderly but when we broke, I decided to tease her a little.

"It's not your decision, sweetie. Unless you want to give up the condo," I whispered.

"I'm retiring and we're keeping the condo," she replied, and then informed me of her rationalization when she added, "I'm pregnant now."

Later that day, I listened close by as Rachel called and explained the situation to our daughter. Unsurprisingly, it took several attempts to convince Lizzie that it wasn't a joke, but when my wife started giggling excitedly, I knew our daughter had accepted the message. They carried on for a few minutes in a rapid exchange that suddenly stopped. The change caught my attention after Rachel took several nervous glances my way, I knew something was up.

"No, of course not," she said and after a moment, in response to something our daughter said, she replied, "Lizzie, I don't know what you're talking about."

At that moment, I knew my loving daughter was asking about Larry.