The Other Twin

“I wasn’t sure where you wanted your daughter to stay,” she said.

Jed’s eyes went wide. “She’s not mine.”

Cheryl’s mouth dropped open. She shifted her gaze. “Nathan?”

“I...I...” His face paled. “I guess.”

“You guess?” No one had hinted Nathan had a child. How could he be so indifferent to Josh if he was a father?

“Is-Isabella. She’s m-mine.” Nathan looked miserable. “Her mother...left her.”

She herded the child next to Nathan, but the girl clutched her hand, forcing her to peel the girl’s fingers out of her grasp.

“Josh.” She backed away. “Time to go.”

Her son smoothed wet cement. “Just a little longer.”

“Now,” she insisted.

For once Josh didn’t talk back. The man he was helping gave him a high-five.

“Call if you need me,” Nathan said to Jed.

She hurried to get out the door ahead of Nathan and his daughter. But Josh said goodbye to every man in the carriage house. Everyone except Nathan.

At least Nathan and the girl were heading to the parking lot. She watched their body language. The little girl dragged her feet. Nathan’s shoulders were stiff as granite.

Not her business. She had wine-tasting appetizers to prep.

Nathan opened his truck door and lifted the girl into the front seat.

“What are you doing?” Even though she should mind her own business, she rushed over. “Where’s her car seat?”

Nathan rubbed his forehead. “Car seat?”

“You can’t put her in the front seat. The airbag could...hurt her.” She grabbed Nathan’s arm. “And she needs to be in a car seat, otherwise the seat belt could injure her, too.”

“Sh—” Nathan pressed his temples. “I mean shoot.”

Josh moved beside her. “Every dummy knows you need a car seat.”

Nathan glared so hard at her son, Cheryl put her arms around Josh’s shoulders.

“I don’t have one.” Nathan paced a few steps away. “I just...”

The man was pale. This didn’t look like a clueless father—he was too panicked for that. He looked lost.

“Josh’s booster seat is in my car,” she volunteered.

Relief softened his face. “Could I borrow it?”

“It’s hard to get the clips undone. Just...take my car.” She dug in her pocket for her keys. “She might not weigh enough for that booster seat. You need to get the right seat for her right away. What’s her name again?”

He dug through a bag and pulled out a piece of paper. “Isabella. Isabella,” he repeated, as if memorizing the name.

What was going on?

Nathan picked up the girl and carried her like a Ming vase. He set her next to the car.

Cheryl hurried over and unlocked the door.

Josh touched the little girl’s hand. “You have to climb into the seat.”

The girl nodded.

“Let me show you how to buckle her in.”

Cheryl demonstrated, then unbuckled her and let Nathan try.

“Thank you.” His eyes were glazed.

“Why didn’t he know her name?” Josh asked as they watched the car drive away. “Is he stupid?”

“Don’t call people names.”

He kicked at the pavement. “But he’s dumb.”

“I’m sure there’s an explanation.”

The little girl hadn’t said a word. She wasn’t much younger than Josh. Something was wrong.

Cheryl chewed on her thumb. Poor thing. But Isabella wasn’t her problem.

* * *

“I’M TAKING YOU to your grandma and grandpop.” Nathan couldn’t believe the words came out of his mouth. A kid. Isabella.

She didn’t speak. Just looked at him with her deer-in-headlights eyes.

Hell. How old was she?

“Can you talk?” He turned so he could see her.

She nodded, tucking the dirty blanket next to her face. That was something.

At his parents’ house, he pulled out the birth certificate. And stared. Father—Nathan Forester. He checked the birth date then counted on his fingers. He didn’t trust his brain. Four. He thought the kid was four.

That made sense. It had been five years or so since he and Heather had been together. But his memory was as holey as a pegboard, especially under stress.