“Whoever wrote this can’t spell,” Olly mumbles. “Either that or she was blitzed.”
I flip over the paper, but it’s blank. “Where’s the rest of the note?” There has to be more.
Olly shrugs. “That’s it. Just the baby, her blanket, her beanie, and the letter.” He roots around in the basket. “Wait. There’s a bottle and a couple of diapers.”
Gabby snuggles the baby closer. “So there’s no formula?”
Olly just stares at her.
“So we can feed her more once the bottle runs out.” Gabby runs a hand over the tuft of blonde hair at the top of Poppy’s head.
“No, that’s it. Just the one bottle.” He hands it to her.
She offers it to the baby, who sniffles before she starts to drink.
Olly peeks over and pats her back. “Poor girl. She was crying when we found her.”
Gabby shoots me a dirty look. “No one could hear her, though, because the music was so damn loud.”
Olly chuckles. “Until you got here and yanked the sound system out of the wall.”
It hits me like a Mac truck on I-10.
“If this is someone’s idea of a joke, I’m gonna bust your balls when I figure out who did this.” I look around the room, but no one pipes up. And what really troubles me is the rest of the guys look just as perplexed as I feel. “Where’s Tank?” He’s good at sniffing out pranksters and liars.
I turn to Olly since he always knows everyone’s business.
“He’s at Bree’s tonight. You know he doesn’t stay here when we party.”
Tank says he doesn’t want to put himself in a situation where he might drink too much and do something stupid that would fuck up his relationship. Seems kinda extreme in my opinion, but no one asked me.
“Call him. Tell him we need to have a household meeting.”
“Chief, it’s four-thirty in the morning.”
“Olly, I’m well aware of the time. And unless you’re offering to accept paternity of our little visitor, I highly suggest you call Tank. In fact, tell him to bring Bree.”
She has her shit together. If we all put our heads together, maybe we can figure this out.
8
RIDER
Several hours later, and we’re definitely not any closer to figuring this out. We got rid of the rest of the people at the party.
Someone made coffee. My roommates and I are sitting around the living room, bleary-eyed and annoyed. I called off my study session, and the guys cancelled their immediate plans. Gabby had to call in to her job at the coffee house.
If this is a joke, someone has a sick sense of humor.
I tip back my cup of coffee, wishing I had gone to bed earlier last night.
After insisting that the couch be covered with a blanket because she questioned our hygiene, Gabby and Poppy eventually settled there, where they both fell asleep.
“They’re pretty sweet, all snuggled up,” Tank whispers.
I stare at the baby, who’s drooling all over my neighbor. They are pretty cute.
Bree pokes me in my shoulder. “This is going on too long for it to be a prank. No one with any sense would leave a baby at the football house.”
“So we’re just supposed to accept what was in the note? That she belongs to one of us?” I don’t state the obvious—that it’s fucking insane.
Could one of the guys have knocked up some girl? Sure. But did this happen and none of us have a clue? Only for this mystery woman to leave her on our doorstep like a damn Amazon package? Doubtful.
Gabby stretches with a quiet groan while still somehow keeping Poppy cuddled comfortably. She peeks through tiny slits, like it’s painful to open her eyes. “I think you guys should take the note seriously.”
Her brother laughs dryly. “There’s no way that kid is mine.”
“How do you know?” Gabby sits up straighter. Her voice is raspy with sleep. She sounds sexy as hell. If this weren’t a totally fucked-up situation, I’d spend this morning appreciating her smoking-hot cleavage in that getup. “Pretty sure you don’t remember the name of the girl you were hooking up with a few hours ago when I walked in here. How do you know for sure who you banged, what, a year and a half ago?”
I’m almost afraid to ask what she saw when she stormed into our house last night.
Ben scowls but doesn’t respond.
She makes a good point. Unfortunately.
Damn. Who was I with back then?
The idea that this kid could be mine is scary as hell. They scream all the time. They take big shits. They never sleep. That’s about the extent of my knowledge on the subject.
In fact, I’ve never considered having any. Although this one seems nice enough, it’s just… Fuck. How the hell am I or any of the guys supposed to juggle a baby, classes, and our grueling football schedule? It’s impossible.
Gabby pats Poppy’s butt gently. “The baby is maybe six or seven months old. Add in the gestational period, thirty-seven to forty-two weeks. Someone please calculate that. My head is too foggy to figure this out.”
Olly hums for a second. “By that math, conception would’ve been mid-June, July, maybe early August. Not last summer, obviously, but the summer before.”
“Okay, so who’d you hook up with the summer before last?” Gabby glances around the room slowly, and my heart hammers hard in my chest for some reason, but when she gets to me, she stops and looks away.
I exhale. Christ. I do not want to sit around with Gabby and discuss my hookups. My chest hurts thinking about it.
“How do you know her age?” Tank waves a finger at the kid. “The note didn’t say.”
Gabby shrugs. “I’ve done a lot of babysitting, so I’ve been around babies. Plus, I want to be a teacher and had to take child development.”
“You want to be a teacher?” Ben asks.
How is her brother so clueless? Judging by the glare Gabby sends his way, I’m not alone in thinking this.
She ignores his question and turns back to Tank. “Poppy can hold up her head, and when I asked her if she wanted her bottle before she fell asleep, she said, ‘Baba.’ Which could just be baby babble or indicate she’s really smart. And, I’m no expert, but really young babies aren’t this sturdy. You have to hold their heads and give them more support.”
“Huh.” Tank pulls out his phone, and after a minute nods. “Google agrees with your assessment.”
“So what are we supposed to do?” Ben mumbles. “Make a list or something?”
Trevor gets up and motions to himself. “Sorry, chief. I’m out. One, she looks nothing like me.” He lifts an eyebrow dramatically. Trevor likes to brag he’s a younger and even better-looking version of Idris Elba. The ladies seem to agree. “Two, I was dating that Brazilian model back then, and there’s no way the two of us together could’ve popped out a blonde baby. Though she’s cute as hell.”
Bree nods and looks to her boyfriend. “I have to agree.”
Tank shrugs. “Before we finish out this game of Clue, can we all vow to take tonight to our graves? No way can this shit get out. It’s bad enough people were at the party when we discovered Poppy.”