The Texas Valentine Twins. Cathy Thacker Gillen

Gannon said dryly. “We’re lawyers.”

      Claire added, “We’ve heard it all.”

      “Anyway,” Wyatt stated, “I know what you’re thinking.” What he’d thought before reality and statistical probability crept in, given the fact that she’d already been inseminated and he’d worn a condom every time. “But the twins are not mine.”

      And he was glad of that. Wasn’t he? Given the fact he still felt he couldn’t quite trust her?

      Adelaide’s slender shoulders slumped slightly. “Thank heavens for small miracles!” she muttered with a beleaguered sigh.

      She turned her glance away, but not before he saw the look of defeat in her eyes.

      Wyatt felt a pang of remorse. So, the situation had ended up hurting her, too—despite her initial declarations to the contrary. Maybe he should try to go a little easier on her.

      Certainly, they had enough strife ahead of them...

      Oblivious to the ambivalence within him, Claire went back to taking notes. “So this...Adelaide’s decision to have children via artificial insemination and sperm bank...is why you parted acrimoniously. Again.”

      Wyatt only wished it had been that simple. “I wouldn’t have cared about that,” he said honestly, ignoring Adelaide’s embarrassment and looking her square in the eye.

      Adelaide returned his level look. “Over time, you might have.” She glanced at the baby monitor, as if hoping it would radiate young voices. It was silent. She cleared her throat, turned to regard their lawyers. “In any case, the insemination at the clinic took place before Wyatt and I ever saw each other again and were...reckless.”

      Reckless was one way to describe it, Wyatt mused. There was also passionate. Tender. Mind-blowing...

      “And I was already sure I was pregnant...from the way I was feeling...”

      Which was why, Wyatt thought, she’d been so happy. In retrospect, he could see that it’d had little to do with seeing him again.

      And for reasons he couldn’t explain, and didn’t want to examine, that stung, too.

      More lawyerly looks were exchanged between the two attorneys.

      Clearly, Wyatt noted, there was another problem.

      Claire’s brow furrowed. “Is the donor’s name on the birth certificate?”

      Adelaide shook her head. “No. Just mine. But I know exactly who the biological father is. Donor #19867 from the Metroplex Fertility Clinic’s sperm bank, where I was inseminated.”

      More glances between attorneys.

      “This is a problem,” Claire said.

      Gannon agreed. “Under Texas law, any children born during a marriage are legally the offspring of the husband, unless and until proved otherwise. Meaning court-ordered DNA tests are going to be necessary.”

      “Why court-ordered?” Wyatt asked, his impatience matching Adelaide’s. “Can’t we just have them done on our own?”

      “Not if you want them to be part of any legal record,” Gannon said. “When DNA tests are court-ordered, a strict chain-of-custody procedure is followed, ensuring the integrity of the samples. Everyone who has contact with them has to sign. This protects against tampering, or ill-use.”

      Made sense.

      “Then court-ordered it is,” Adelaide said grimly, as Wyatt nodded.

      “Luckily, we can formally request this online.” Gannon was already typing. “I’ll follow it up with a call to the judge to make sure it goes through immediately.”

      “While you do that, I’ll call my cousin Jackson McCabe, who is chief of staff at Laramie Community Hospital, and ask him to write the medical orders for the blood tests.” Claire rose, cell phone to her ear. “And arrange to have them done as soon as possible.”

      Not that it would matter, Wyatt thought, as Claire stepped into the next room and Gannon, when finished, walked out onto the front porch. They all knew what the tests were going to reveal. Once that happened, he and Adelaide would go their separate ways.

      Forever.

      * * *

      UNABLE TO SIT still a moment longer, Adelaide rose, gathered the mugs and took them to the kitchen sink. “I wasn’t finished with that,” Wyatt called after her.

      No one had been, Adelaide knew. But she needed something to do before she exploded with tension. “Hold your horses,” she said over her shoulder. “You’ll get a fresh mug in a minute, and more hot coffee to go with it. Unless you’d prefer something more dainty.” She turned his way to give him a too-sweet look. “Like tea?”

      He shot her a deadpan look.

      They both knew he hated tea. All kinds.

      He didn’t like iced coffee, either.

      Or at least he hadn’t.

      What if he had changed?

      Then again... Doubtful.

      Gannon walked back in, just as she sat four fresh mugs and a platter of cookies on the table. “We’ve got the court order.”

      Claire returned, too. “Jackson expedited everything on the hospital’s end. The hospital lab will be open until eight this evening, so you can both go over now if you like.” She paused. “If you want to write this down...?”

      Adelaide plucked a notepad and pen from the charging station, then returned to the table, carafe in hand. She slid the former across the table to Wyatt.

      He ignored her helpful gesture. “I’ll just type it in.” He pulled out his smartphone, gaze trained on the oversize screen, paused again, then brought up the appropriate menu.

      Just scribbling the info on paper would have been faster. Then again... “It’s probably best,” Adelaide quipped, in an effort to lighten the mounting exasperation. “No one can read his chicken scratches anyway.”

      Wyatt squinted at her, his expression partly annoyed and the rest inscrutable.

      “Unless something’s changed?” she continued, determined to be just as provoking and ornery as he was being.

      It hadn’t just been the love notes he’d passed to her in class she hadn’t been able to decipher. It had been anything and everything he wrote. Worse, he had seemed to take perverse delight in everyone else’s frustration. Just as he was enjoying her impatience now. She didn’t know why he had to be such a pain sometimes.

      “You’ve taken a class in penmanship...?” she taunted lightly, aware they had temporarily reverted to their worst selves from their teenage years.

      “You wish.” Smugly, Wyatt looked at Claire, his fingers poised over the keyboard on his man-size smartphone. “Ready when you are.”

      Barely suppressing her own exasperation, Claire returned to her own handwritten notes. “The tech who’s going to be doing the test is Martie Bowman. The outpatient lab is on the first floor of the main building of the hospital, in the east wing. Suite 111.”

      Wyatt quickly typed in the information. “Do you want to email that to me, too?” Adelaide asked.

      “Not necessary,” Wyatt said. “I’ve got it.”

      He was also as impossibly chauvinistic as ever. Adelaide sighed. “How long until we have the results?”

      “They’re going to put a rush on it. So three or four days at most.”

      “What about the rest of it?” Adelaide asked.

      “It would be advisable to proceed with the divorce only when the DNA results are back,” Gannon said.

      Adelaide decided to give it one last