His Secret Baby: This Secret Baby, #10

By Rachel Foster

Marcus is recently coming out of a bad divorce from his ex-wife Megan. She hasn't made it easy on him. To make things worse, she's pregnant. Marcus is adamant the baby can't be his, but Megan is ready to make him pay child support for 18 years. Desperate to uncover the truth, he hires his Uncle Tim to represent him in court. Hannah is a single mom to a three year old girl, Quinn. She moves to Ohio to be closer to her family after the death of her husband.  He died a year prior, but she finally felt it was time to move back home to have her family's support. Struggling to do what's right for her and her daughter, she finds herself falling for Marcus, a random guy she meets in the park one day. Now Hannah's family is telling her she's moving on too fast and Marcus's uncle is urging him to not be in a relationship until they figure out if Megan's pregnant with his baby. Hannah discovers Marcus' secret and she's afraid to tell him that she's pregnant with his baby now too. With seemingly everyone against them, Marucs and Hannah fight to move on from their pasts. Will they be able to figure out their truths and begin a life together? 

• Language: English
• Publisher: 3rd Publishing
• Release date: Mar 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215800881

Book preview

His Secret Baby

Rachel Foster

Copyright © 2018 by Rachel Foster

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Contents

1. Marcus

2. Hannah

3. Marcus

4. Hannah

5. Marcus

6. Hannah

7. Marcus

8. Hannah

9. Marcus

10. Hannah

11. Marcus

12. Hannah

13. Marcus

14. Hannah

15. Marcus

16. Hannah

17. Marcus

18. Hannah

19. Marcus

20. Hannah

21. Marcus

22. Hannah

23. Marcus

24. Hannah

25. Marcus

26. Hannah

27. Marcus

28. Hannah

29. Marcus

30. Hannah

31. Marcus

32. Hannah

33. Marcus

34. Hannah

35. Marcus

36. Hannah

37. Marcus

38. Hannah

39. Marcus

Epilogue – Hannah

1

Marcus

T

he divorce papers were all filled out and ready to go. All they needed was my final signature. I swallowed hard, staring down at that blank space. I brought my pen to the spot and took a deep breath to steady myself.

You don’t have to sign if you’re still thinking about it, my lawyer and uncle said, watching me from the other side of the desk.

I don’t want to have to go through with this again.

Luckily, unsigned papers don’t have an expiration date.

I shook my head. That wasn’t what I had meant. It wasn’t the physical process that had taken so much out of me. That had been mostly composed of a lot of waiting. The mental toll was something else entirely. Divorce was not an easy thing to contemplate and even harder to act on. It felt like destroying a marriage I had put so much time and effort into.

If I didn’t do this now, I didn’t know if I would have the strength to go through it again.

I tested the pen on the back of my hand to ensure it was ready to go and then signed my name on the line. I let out a breath as I realized how relieved I was. This was almost the end of things. Just a little while longer and all of this would be over.

That’ll be the end of it, then.

Thanks, Uncle Tim, I said.

He smiled at me and picked up the papers to place them back in his briefcase. It’s just my job, he said.

No, you’ve done way more for me than that. I guess that’s what family does, isn’t it? I smiled at him. Back when I first started considering taking this route, I had gone to him for advice alone. He gave me that, and then suggested I hire him to represent me as my divorce lawyer. He already knew me, my story, and my situation. It would save me a lot of time to work with him versus seeking out someone else.

That he came with a hefty price tag didn’t discourage me. I could afford it easily.

Someone had to do it, son, Uncle Tim said. You were a complete wreck.

Yeah, I was, I admitted. So what happens now? I knew, but I wanted to go through it again.

Uncle Tim shut his briefcase and folded his hands in front of him. I’ll get my assistant to serve Megan the papers, and we’ll move from there. I don’t think this will be too difficult of a case. You’re both unhappy, and given the circumstances, the court will agree a clean break is necessary. It’s likely Megan will want some sort of compensation, and she didn’t sign a prenup; however, you’ve got me on your side. I’m going to see to it that the only thing you pay is my fee.

I chuckled darkly. Megan would want compensation. She would feel the exact same way I did and was going to want something to ensure our marriage hadn’t just been a total waste of her time. I can’t serve her the papers myself?

No. He looked at me sharply. Technically, it isn’t illegal, but that’s asking for trouble. Her lawyer wouldn’t be above spinning that as an intimidation tactic. And, there’s always the chance she might get violent out of anger. It’s best to let an impartial third party do the job, particularly if they’re trained for it, like my assistant is. And by trained, I mean she teaches self-defense classes two nights a week at a local community center.

Megan isn’t the physical type. Is your assistant trained against passive aggression?

De-escalation tactics are included in the self-defense classes.

Might come in handy. What happens after she gets the papers?

She’ll get in touch with a lawyer from a competing law office, and we’ll start negotiations, Uncle Tim replied. Terms won’t take long to establish, and then we’ll send everything off to the court and judge. No one will even need to be there except for us lawyers.

I really hope this all goes so smoothly, I thought.

Uncle, no offence, but I hope I don’t have to deal with you in this way ever again. I leaned back in my chair and folded my hands against my stomach.

He chuckled. I agree. Won’t it be good to get away from all that crazy?

Yeah, it will. I glanced at the rustic wooden clock hanging on the wall behind the desk. As much as I’d love to stick around and chat, I need to get back to the office. I’m going out for dinner with Brock tonight, and I’d like to be able to leave on time.

Celebrating the divorce, I take it, Uncle Tim chuckled.

Guilty, I admitted.

As luck would have it, I was just starting to think of ways to politely hint to you that I need you to get out of that chair to make room for my next client. Her case isn’t nearly as simple as yours.

I’ll see myself out, then. I stood and grabbed my own briefcase off the floor. When this is all over, I’ll have to take you out for a beer or something.

Deal. Now, get out of my office. He made a shooing motion.

I walked the couple steps through his cluttered office and stepped out into the waiting area. Uncle Tim’s secretary and assistant, Jason, looked up from his computer and spoke to the one person sitting there. You can go on in, Betty.

Betty was a hometown-pretty blonde who looked only a couple years removed from high school. She stood, clutching her lemon slice-shaped purse, and approached Uncle Tim’s office. I paused and held the door open for her. Good luck, I whispered.

Betty flashed me a small smile and murmured her thanks, stepping inside with one hand held out to take the door from me.

Uncle Tim didn’t just do separation and divorce cases, though everyone in the business knew it was his specialty. He handled basically every situation to do with marriage and family life. I could only wonder what situation young Betty had gotten herself into and hope she would get through it okay. Of course, with my uncle to help her out, she would probably be just fine.

I took the elevator down to the ground floor and bid the receptionist a good rest of her day before heading outside into the parking lot. The weather was unusually chilly for the late summer month, signaling all of Ohio was in for a rough autumn and an even rougher winter. There would be times when we Ohioans wondered if spring would ever come again.

I climbed in my car and headed back to work to finish up the rest of my meetings for the day. I managed to get the last one out of the door only five minutes late, gathered up my things, and was back on the road before too long.

Brock and I had been meeting at the Green Barn steak restaurant to celebrate various accomplishments for a long while now, and this occasion was as good as any to celebrate. I pulled into the parking lot and looked around for his truck. I spotted it parked off against the back of the restaurant and went to park beside him just to annoy him. He deliberately chose spaces as far from other vehicles as possible, worrying over the slightest possibility of a ding or scratch, and I loved irritating him. What else were brothers for? I thought with a smile.

I headed into the restaurant and went up to the hostess. Reservation for Hahn. H-A-H-N. My brother should have already arrived.

Wait one moment, please. She smiled pleasantly and checked the little book she held. Marcus?

That’d be me. The better-looking brother.

She laughed. I was warned you would make that joke. Please, follow me.

I let her lead me, even though Brock and I always reserved the same table at the back of the place. The lighting was low, mostly provided by chandeliers hanging from the high roof and the green candles on each table. The faux barnwood walls were a neutral shade of soft olive, and the flickering flames and cast shadows dancing over the slatted surfaces.

Here you are, the hostess said. Your waitress will be along shortly to get you something to drink.

Much to my surprise, someone else already sat at the table with Brock.

Thank you, I said. I pulled out the remaining chair and sat down across from Brock. You didn’t mention you were bringing Susie.

Susie, Brock’s wife, lifted her cup of wine to her lips and smiled at her husband. I like gossip, too, you know.

Don’t we know it, Brock groaned and chuckled. He often complained, fondly, of Susie’s constant chatter about office life and who was dating who.

Susie gave him a good-natured punch on the shoulder, and they smiled at each other. I averted my eyes. That was the way Megan and I used to look at each other – back when we were still in love.

The waitress who had already served Brock and Susie walked up to me and introduced herself, handing me a menu. I decided on a stronger beer than I would normally have, along with a glass of iced lemon water. It turned out that Brock and Susie had gone ahead and ordered an appetizer, and it arrived at the same time as my drinks. The roasted tomato and bacon pinwheels looked absolutely delicious, and I eagerly grabbed one off the tray. I hadn’t quite realized how hungry I was. In lieu of a proper lunch, I’d had a granola bar and more work, and now my stomach was making me pay for that decision.

To you and your future happiness. Brock lifted his glass of wine.

I nodded and tipped my beer in his direction. To future happiness.

Susie hesitated, and then also lifted her glass.

We drank. The sharp hoppy taste of the beer made my taste buds tingle. The crisp, salty bacon of the pinwheels tasted even better afterward, the two contrasting flavors playing off each other.

Susie picked up one of the pinwheels and began to unravel it, leaving a curl of puff pastry on her plate.

Brock touched her shoulder. What’s wrong?

It’s nothing, she said softly. It’s just that part of me hasn’t yet comprehended what all of this means. I was friends with Megan, you know. A divorce affects everyone around the divorcees.

Should I have asked you to decide my future for me?

I held back on the snarky response. I knew what she meant. This was going to affect the dynamics with our friends and nothing would be quite the same. Brock had met Susie after Megan and I were already together, so they had known each other from the start. They had planned surprise parties together and had girls’ nights out, had once gone on a trip to a casino without us guys to cramp their style. They had been good friends, and this divorce might well be the end of that. It took very special people to remain neutral and friendly in the face of this kind of situation, and I knew Megan didn’t have it in her.

They say the things couples love about each other can often be what pushes them apart later on. Megan’s strong opinions absolutely confirmed that idea for me. Likely, she had the same thoughts about me, though I could only wonder exactly what it was that had begun to push her away.

How had we gotten here? It seemed like such a blur, and yet time had moved so slowly – so agonizingly slowly.

It’ll all be fine in the end, Brock said, obviously trying to comfort his wife.

Right, I agreed. Besides, is it really such a bad thing? It’s no secret she was a little crazy at times.

Susie frowned at me. I would turn crazy, too, if I had to deal with you for so long.

Brock laughed out loud. How do you think I feel?

Hey, I protested, laughing, too. This sucked, but I did think it would be okay in the end. Whenever that was.

2

Hannah

W

ell, this is it.

I stood in front of my van, hands in my jean pockets, looking at the apartment complex where I had spent the last year of my life. It wasn’t the perfect place – far from it, in fact – but it had been home for a time. Now I wasn’t even sure where home would be, what home even meant.

Mommy, it’s Mr. Ricky!

My three-year-old daughter Quinn stopped fiddling around with my phone and pointed at the man approaching down the front walkway of the complex. Richard Whitehorse, owner of the whole building and several others around town, was a grandfatherly type of man. He stood over six feet tall and was as wide as a barrel and as gray as campfire smoke. Despite being well into his seventies, he still did nearly all of his own maintenance around the building. What work he didn’t do was handed off to his son, Richard Junior or RJ, who owned an appliance repair company.

Richard bent down and picked up Quinn beneath her arms, grunting as he hoisted her up into the air. She giggled and clung to his hairy forearms. How are you, honey? he asked her, bobbing her slightly in the air.

I’m good, Mr. Ricky! Quinn said happily.

Very good. Richard set her down, and she hopped back to my side. Richard followed her, slower, and gave me a gentle smile. How are you doing, Hannah?

I’ve had better days, I confided with a look down at Quinn. I didn’t want her to worry about me.

I understand that, Richard said, nodded. I think we all have. You’ll be fine, though. I’m certain of it.

I nodded a little. I reached my hand into my pocket and took out the key to my apartment, which I would no longer need. Richard held out his hand, and I placed the key in his large palm. He smiled and nodded, slipping the key into his own pocket. Where to next on this grand journey?

Ohio, I told him.

Is that right? Richard raised his eyebrows.

I have some distant family there.

No kidding on the distant part.

Texas to Ohio was quite the change in locale – and quite a distance. Almost 19 hours of driving and that wasn’t including any of the logistics of traveling with a toddler. My only hope was Quinn would sleep a lot of the way, since she was particularly susceptible to napping in cars.

I smiled slightly. Cousins and such. Maybe the change will be good for me.

Maybe I’ll finally be able to rebuild my life, I added silently.

I think you’ll do just fine. Richard bent down in front of Quinn, hands braced on his knees. You be a good girl. Take care of your mom. She needs you to watch out for her.

Yes, sir, Mr. Ricky! Quinn nodded vigorously.

Richard straightened and took my hand, clasping it in his. Good luck. Don’t forget about me. It’d be nice to get a call or an email once you’re settled in to know how you’re doing.

I’ll make sure to do that. I held his hand tightly and squeezed.

Richard stepped back and gave us one final smile. He went into the office, likely to put away the key I had given him and tend to his other business.

I turned to Quinn and took her hand in mine. Time to get this show on the road.

Show on the road, she echoed, smiling.

I opened the car door and helped her climb in. She got in her car seat like a good girl, and I helped to buckle her in. Now, remember what I told you, I said to her. This is going to be really hard for Mommy. Be nice to Mommy. Use your inside voice and don’t kick the back of my seat.

Yes, Mommy, Quinn said. She patted my shoulder like someone much older giving me reassurance. My heart ached. I loved her so very much. It’ll be okay, Mommy. I’ll be the bestest girl ever.

I know you will. I ran my hand over her golden hair, so much like mine used to be when I was younger, and kissed her forehead.

I got into the front seat and started up the van. We had bought the van when we found out I was pregnant with Quinn, and it had been a trusty vehicle ever since then. I knew it would take me all the way to the moon and back if only I could find a road to get us there.

I backed out of the parking spot and navigated carefully around the lot. Bye-bye, home, Quinn said, waving.

Tears rose into my eyes. I stopped at the stop sign before the street and put my hand to my face. I forced myself to breathe through the tightness in my chest and blinked until the tears had been shoved back enough to where I could see.

I could be sad, but I couldn’t let my sadness prevent me from heading on into the future. Greener pastures awaited us. They had to. We deserved it.

I checked both ways and pulled onto the street. I navigated to the highway and as soon as we were cruising, I turned on the GPS to take us the rest of the way. Not the rest of the way to Ohio because I sure wasn’t going to drive for that many hours without a break.

I had done plenty of research ahead of this trip and had my plan all figured out. We would leave early and go a little more than halfway, stopping at this nice small town in the middle of Missouri. There were little stores Quinn and I could explore, and some splashing in the hotel pool would help get out our excess energy. We could pick up a pizza, watch a movie, and go to bed. The next day, we’d have less of a drive ahead of us until the next stage of our life could begin.

The first couple of hours went fantastically. Quinn looked out the window for only a short while before dropping off into a deep sleep. I put on some soft music and let the highway unfurl in front of me. I kept glancing at my daughter’s sweet sleeping face in the rearview mirror.

Quinn stirred around noon, and we stopped to refresh ourselves and grab some lunch. Afterwards, we ran into a bit of traffic, a stop-and-start situation which thankfully never turned into a complete standstill. When all the cars started moving quickly again, Quinn let out a disgusted sound, the sort of self-righteous grumbling only little girls could make.

What’s wrong, baby? I asked, peeking at her.

Why was ever-buddy stopping? she complained. Too slow!

I laughed softly to myself. I don’t know. It’s okay now, though.

We made a couple more stops along the way and went through a toll road. The nice man who took our toll gave me a lollipop and a sticker for Quinn, and she treasured the memory for as long as it took to eat the candy and put the sticker on the inside of the car window. Then, we passed by an airport and I had to make a couple of tense lane switches all within a couple minutes of each other. After that, it was smooth sailing right to the town and the hotel.

I took Quinn inside with me to the front desk. The receptionist was an older woman with big curls that had gone out of style a couple decades ago and an equally large, but timeless, smile.

Hi, there, sweetie, the receptionist said, smiling down at Quinn. Stay close to your mommy while I get your room all set up, and maybe you can have a nice piece of candy after. If it’s okay with your mommy, that is.

Quinn looked up at me and immediately began to beg. I laughed softly. You’ve already had candy today. I guess one more wouldn’t hurt, though.

What’s your name, dumpling? the receptionist asked. It took me a little while to realize she was talking to me.

Hannah Joyce, I told her.

You been doing a lot of traveling today? Her fingers flew over her computer keyboard. She hardly glanced at the screen, keeping her attention mostly on me and Quinn.

Yes. We’ve still got a long way to go tomorrow.

We’re going to Oh-hi-yo, Quinn informed her.

Oh, my. That really is quite a long way for a pair of southern ladies like yourselves. Let me guess. You’re from Texas?

Wow, Quinn gasped. How you knew that?

The receptionist laughed softly and pushed the electronic signature pad across the desk to me. Sign here, honey, and I’ll get your room keys. Little lady, you and your mommy both have the Texan accents. I lived in Texas for a couple years, myself.

Small world, I said. I hadn’t been born in Texas, but a job opportunity had us moving out there, and we were quite happy for a time. It had meant great food, greater neighbors. I wasn’t surprised I had absorbed some of the accent or that Quinn drawled like a native.

Us Southerners always find each other. Like birds in a flock. The receptionist clicked a couple things on her computer, typed a little more, and handed me an envelope with a couple of cards inside. There you go. You need anything, you call down here to the front desk. I’ll be here until well in the night. Make sure you get taken care of just right.

I smiled and nodded. Thank you. I appreciate it.

And, of course, I didn’t forget. She produced a candy jar from beside the computer and took out a particularly sweet-looking piece in a pink wrapper. For the little turtledove.

Say thank you, Quinn.

Thank you!

I took Quinn’s hand and led her over to the elevator. Let’s check out our room, I told her. I need to make a phone call. Then, we can go and explore!

Yes-yes! I’ve been waiting all day for this, Mommy.

Me, too.

Inside the elevator, I let Quinn find and push the button for the third floor of the hotel. She held her piece of candy, inspecting it. Mommy, that lady talked funny.

I chuckled. I know. But, she was nice, huh?

Real nice!

We found our room down at the end of the hall to the right of the elevator. I let us inside with the key card. The room smelled freshly cleaned and was tidy enough to deal with for a single night. There was a bathroom and a modest kitchenette, and the typical bed across from a large TV. Quinn immediately went over to the bed and rolled around on it. She knew better than to jump or stomp. Living the apartment life was good for learning that lesson, at least.

I leaned my hip on the kitchenette counter, watching her, and took out my phone. I let out my breath in a sigh and called my second cousin.

Hey, I was wondering when I was going to hear from you!

Hi, Susie, I said, smiling slightly at the warmth in her voice. We had a couple delays, nothing major. Just got to the hotel.

"Oh,