Realistically Levi could have done the math himself. He’d only been with her one time, a time be only remembered in bits and pieces. He didn’t even remember what he’d been high on that night. Something to ease the reality of being in a social situation anyhow.
He remembered loud music, people shoulder to shoulder, and being so. fucking. horny. That narrowed down his choice drug a bit as most caused his libido to flatline entirely but it didn’t matter what he’d put in his system. The point was, there was a girl on his doorstep and there was a kid in her belly.
He wanted to tell her to go away; he had nothing to give her. How did he know it was his anyway?
He glanced to the doorframe, peeling with decades of paint, and the carpet of the hallway of his apartment building, stained with blood, shit, sweat, and God knew what else. She wasn’t lying. She wouldn’t have bothered coming here if she was lying.
He’d been hard to find on purpose. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her to find him; he didn’t even remember he name, truth be told. But Levi wasn’t interested in being found by anyone. When he needed someone, he sought them out. He was fine on his own.
“Well,” he said, stepping aside, “you can come in if you want.”
He left the doorway and turned, placing the knife he’d been holding on the kitchen table and taking note of the line of cocaine he’d just cut before he’d been interrupted by an unexpected pregnancy.
What a father figure he was.