Father Found

That baby is small,' observed the bald guy, who sat to the right of Jamie. He nodded, thinking, small but lethal.

Normal, perhaps, but disgusting. He’d thought diapers were bad. The barfing was arguably worse. Maybe it was an early warning sign of alcoholism: the girl would chugalug an entire bottle at one sitting, and then she’d hurl—and then she’d pass out.

it occurred to him that having a newborn ought to qualify a person as handicapped. He

When she wasn't leaking from one end, she was leaking from the other spewing white fluids from her mouth whenever she belched, as if she were auditioning for a remake of The Exorcist.

One of the boys groaned. “Great, man. She’s on the rag, she’s depressed. She gets pregnant, she’s no longer on the rag—and she’s depressed. She has a baby, and she’s depressed. I’m getting depressed just thinking about it.” “That’s not surprising,” Allison said smoothly. “It can be depressing to realize you can’t just hang out with your friends at night. You can’t go to a movie on a whim, or go out clubbing. You have responsibilities now. You’ve got to spend time with your baby. How do we deal with this depression?

The man is a syndicated columnist. He’s got to be rolling in dough.

Suddenly she was ravenous—but not for soup or shrimp risotto or anything else on the overpriced menu. She was hungry for...things. Acts. Human contact.

And here I thought you were open-minded.” “I’m not,” she said,

Jamie was an amazing catch—or at least he would be, if he hadn’t done whatever he’d done to wind up with a daughter.

Samantha was sighing and blowing saliva bubbles as he rolled down a window and got out of the car. “Behave yourself,

sorry, Mr. McCoy,” Sara Doolan sing-songed, sounding not the least bit sorry. “But, see, I broke curfew last night and my mom says I’m grounded tonight? Like, my boyfriend’s car broke down and we couldn’t get home? And now my mom’s so pissed off? And she’s grounded me?

She should forget about his performance in school and concentrate on his performance as an escort, a host, a man.

Feature for feature, he wasn’t exactly movie-star handsome. Yet he appealed to her in ways she wasn’t used to.

fathered an out-of-wedlock child.” “Well, at least he isn’t shooting blanks,” Grammy remarked phlegmatically. “Be careful, Allie. Make him marry you first.

He wasn’t the best looking man she’d ever met. It was just

Laughing, he held up his hands in mock surrender. “You’re too clever. I can’t fool you. I’m actually the reincarnation of Napoleon.” “You can’t be,” she played along. “You’re much too tall.” “I took growth hormones between incarnations.

I’d kill for a cup of coffee.” “They’ll probably give us coffee if we give them money. No bloodshed necessary,” he said,

So she’ll cry. And then she’ll stop crying. Babies don’t have many ways to express themselves. They cry because they don’t know how to say, ‘Stop it!’ or ‘I want it!’ or ‘That seat isn’t as comfortable as your arms.

He’d thought diapers were bad. The barfing was arguably worse. Maybe it was an early warning sign of alcoholism: the girl would chugalug an entire bottle at one sitting, and then she’d hurl—and then she’d pass out.

He was afraid to pick up the baby. If he touched it, it might bond with him or something. Or he might leave fingerprints all over it.

Women want equality until they think that acting hysterical can give them an edge. Then suddenly, they're the victims of their hormones.

Men love to tower over their women. It deludes them into thinking they have some power in the relationship.

anxiety, new fathers were a thousand times worse. Anything that didn’t go by the book threw them into a tizzy. Being informed that there was no book threw them into an even bigger tizzy. Allison was the hospital’s expert on new fathers. She had a genuine talent for un-tizzy-ing them. “Hi,” she said gently. “This is Allison Winslow. What can