Thank you for your fast responses, for your kind words and for your continued interest and support. I appreciate it.

I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own Stuck-Up Suit.

MERCEDES

I knew who it was from the tone in Sam's voice when he answered his phone. Luckily, I was facing away from him, so I could listen to the whole conversation without having to pretend it didn't cut me deep.

It was bad enough another woman was calling his cell at seven in the morning while he was lying in my bed. But the mother of his child was another thing altogether.

I hate to think about this or make this about me. But...

Is this how it would be?

Sam was not the type of man who would ever ignore a phone call if the woman who had custody of his child was calling.

And this bitch who had screwed him out of years of watching his daughter grow up could now interrupt his life at any given time of day.

I had no doubt that she would use it to her fullest advantage, too.

"I'll make arrangements for a private lab to come to your home Monday at ten," Sam was saying.

He was quiet as he listened. I could hear the sound of Jennifer's voice but I couldn't make out the words.

There were a few more curt exchanges, and then right before he hung up, his voice softened.

"How is she doing?"

My heart ached for him. What she did was so wrong on so many levels.

And she didn't just screw Sam over...she screwed her own daughter over, too.

He spoke for a few more seconds, after which, I kept quiet for a few minutes, giving him some much needed time.

When I finally spoke, my back was still to him.

"You okay?"

He hugged me from behind and kissed my shoulder.

"I'm good. Sorry about that. She was calling to make arrangements for the DNA test."

I turned over and faced him.

"She's still in love with you. You do know that, right?"

He looked down.

"I'm not sure Jennifer is capable of love."

"She's beautiful."

"She doesn't hold a candle to you."

"She's smart."

"I'm more of a smart ass kind of guy."

That made me smile. Until I thought of other things that Jennifer beat me in.

"She was your fiancé."

"Without commitment, it's merely a piece of jewelry."

I have no idea where it came from, my dark masochist side, I suppose. But I asked,

"Did you get down on one knee and propose?"

"Mercedes..."

"I need to know."

"Why?"

"I have no idea. I just do."

"I didn't actually. It was more of a business deal than anything romantic. I took her to Tiffany's, and she picked out her own ring."

"Oh."

"When we split up, Meme didn't seem too surprised. One day over lunch, she asked me why I hadn't given Jennifer her engagement ring. But the thought had never even occurred to me, to be honest. Meme had given me her ring when I turned twenty-one and told me that it belonged to whomever I eventually gave my heart to. The ring is small and simple. But it wasn't until the relationship had ended and Meme had pointed out the obvious to me that I understood the significance. There was never a question in my mind, given the choice between a small ring that meant a lot to me...and a flashy rock...Jennifer would rather have had that rock. And I knew that enough to not give her my grandmother's ring. But I didn't stop to think about what that said about who she was."

"Wow! She sounds like a real fucking bitch."

Sam laughed.

It was good to hear it.

"That's what I love about you, Mercedes. You call it like you see it. The first time you did it to me, I was pissed, but also hard as a rock."

I wrapped my hands around his neck and gave him a dirty grin.

"You're a stuck-up suit who can't even remember his secretary's name."

He squinted and then quickly caught on. Then his lips went to my neck.

"Go on."

"And most of the time, you don't even notice the people around you."

"Is that so?" His voice grew gravelly, and his mouth nibbled its way up to my ear.

"You think women should just spread their legs for you because of what you look like."

His hand caressed its way down my body, landing on my bare thigh. Then he spoke directly into my ear as he nudged my legs open.

"Spread your legs for me, Mercedes."

I tried not to. I really did. But that voice...

"Spread for me, Mercedes. I need to hear you moan my name."

"You're so confident you can..."

I didn't get any further. He lowered his body down the bed, settling his shoulders between my legs.

I was already gushing, and his warm breath right there shot fire through my body.

So I quickly spread my legs...wider.

By afternoon, all the confidence in our relationship that this morning had instilled, was already starting to dissipate.

Sue had me running errands for her since lunch time.

In line at the bank, the man in front of me was with his daughter. She was probably around the same age as Madison.

And sitting on the seven train on my way to the printer, a couple was seated across from me. Their daughter was holding on to the pole, spinning around and around.

It probably wasn't a profound moment for them, but for me, I saw a happy family.

Reminders were everywhere I looked.

After my last errand for the day, I was standing on the platform waiting for my southbound train to arrive.

Across the track, the northbound seven arrived. But the word next to the circled seven caught my attention.

Queens.

Without thinking, I hopped on, just as the doors slid closed.

What the hell was I doing?

I haven't seen my father in eight years. For all I knew, he might not even live in Queens anymore.

When I exited at the Sixty-First Street Station, a northbound train was pulling up.

Looking across, I considered going back where I'd just came from.

I thought about it for so long, that eventually people had to walk around me while I stood frozen in place watching the train pull away.

His house was only about eight blocks from the station, so I started walking. And around the third block, my phone buzzed.

Sam's name flashed across the screen.

My finger lingered over the DECLINE button, but then I remembered what I had told him last night. I would be there for him. I wouldn't avoid him anymore.

"Hey."

"Hey, gorgeous. How was your day?"

I was standing at the crosswalk waiting for a light to turn green.

"Busy. Sue had me running all around the city doing errands."

Just then, the light turned, and I stepped off the curb. Out of nowhere, a cab pulled up in front of me, less than an inch from my toes. I banged on the trunk of the yellow car and yelled,

"Hey, asshole. Watch where you're going!"

"Mercedes?" Sam's concerned voice sounded.

"Yeah. Sorry. A cabbie almost just ran over my foot."

"You're still in Manhattan?"

"Actually, no."

"Oh. Good. I just finished a meeting in Brooklyn. Where are you? I'll pick you up, and we can grab some dinner?"

I was quiet for a minute.

"I'm not in Brooklyn."

"Where are you?"

"Queens."

"Oh. I didn't realize you were still doing errands."

"I'm not, actually." I swallowed. "I'm going to see my father."

Sam didn't ask me why I was going; the reason was pretty obvious.

We talked for the rest of the walk, and I told him I'd text him when I was done so that we could have dinner.

When I hung up, I stopped in my tracks, realizing my father's house was only two doors down.

Why did I come?

And what was I coming to say?

I had no sense of time as I stood there, but it must've been at least a half an hour that I stood staring at his home.

My emotions were completely out of control, and I seriously had no idea what the hell I was going to say, yet I was sure I needed to do this.

Fuck it!

I walked to his doorstep, took a deep breath, and knocked. My heart was racing as I waited.

When no one came to the door, at first a sense of relief came over me. But just as I was about to turn and leave, the door opened.

"Can I help you?" Patricia squinted, and then her eyes grew wide. "Oh my, Mercedes. I'm sorry I didn't recognize you."

I forced a smile.

"Is my dad here?" I was suddenly panicked and wanted nothing more than to leave.

'Please say no. Please say no.'

"Yes. He's upstairs fighting with the closet door that came off the hinge. I think he's losing." She smiled warmly and stepped aside. "Come in. I'll go up and get him. He's going to be so excited you're here."

I stayed just inside the doorway, no different than how I would've felt entering a stranger's house for the first time.

Because, it's what he essentially was. A stranger.

The walls were lined with family photos...my father's new family. They were smiling and laughing in every framed shot.

But there wasn't a single picture of my sister or me.

I shouldn't have come.

Then a voice I hadn't heard in years interrupted my internal debate to flee.

"Mercedes." My father was halfway down the stairs as he spoke. "Is everything okay?"

I nodded.

"Is your mother okay?"

Somehow, that pissed me off.

"She's fine.

Marshall Jones strode to me, rattling my already shaky confidence. And for a second, I thought he was going to hug me.

But when I folded my arms across my chest, he seemed to take the hint.

"This is a pleasant surprise. It's been too long. Look at you, you're all grown up. And so beautiful. You look like your Aunt Anita."

"I look like my mother," I replied, a little bite to my tone.

His side of the gene pool wasn't getting credit for anything good.

He nodded.

"Yes, you're right, you do."

The eight years that passed had been kind to my father.

He was over fifty now. And a few silver flecks dotted his thick black hair, but his light brown skin hadn't aged much.

He was a fit man; running had been his escape when we were kids, and it looked like he had kept up with it.

"Come in. Let's sit." Hesitantly, I followed him into the kitchen. "Coffee?"

"Sure."

He poured us both steaming mugs and gave me a biscotti. My mother never let us have coffee when we were little. But the Jones side of the family had distant relatives who came off the boat from Sicily.

They thought if you were old enough to hold the mug, it should be filled with coffee.

The same went for a wine glass.

My best memories of my father were our mornings together in the kitchen after mom left for work.

Dad and I would sit at the table talking while we drank coffee and ate biscotti before I left for school.

I even got up early in the summer to sit there with him. And after he had moved out, I avoided the kitchen table in the mornings, because it made me wonder if he was sharing coffee with Bree...his new daughter.

"So. How are you?" he asked.

"Fine."

He nodded.

I'd shown up on his doorstep, yet I was shutting down any conversation he started.

A few minutes later, he tried again.

"Are you still living in Brooklyn?"

"Yes."

More nodding. Then a few minutes later.

"What do you do for a living?"

"I work for an advice columnist."

"That sounds interesting."

"It's not."

A few more minutes passed.

"Are you seeing anyone?"

Sam had called me his girlfriend the other night, yet I had never said it out loud.

"I have a boyfriend."

"Are things serious?"

I thought about it for a minute. Things were serious.

We may have only known each other for a month, but it was the most serious relationship I had ever been in.

"They are," I replied.

My father smiled and I tossed him a baited hook.

"He just found out he has a daughter he knew nothing about with his ex-fiancé."

My father's smile wilted.

He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them nodding as if it all made sense finally.

He took a deep breath and let out a loud whoosh of air.

"I made a lot of mistakes in my life, Mercedes. Did things I'm not proud of."

"Like cheating on my mother."

He nodded.

"Yes. Like cheating on your mother."

"You left us. How do you leave your children?"

"I told you. I did things I'm not proud of."

"Do you regret it?"

"I regret hurting you, yes."

"That's not what I asked. Do you regret the choice you made? Choosing a woman over your daughters? Taking a different family as your own and never looking back?"

"That's not how it was, Mercedes."

My voice got louder.

"Answer the question. Do you look back and wish you'd made a different choice?"

He looked down ashamed but answered honestly.

"No."

It felt like someone had sucker punched me in the stomach.

"Did you ever love my mother?"

"I did. I loved her very much."

"What if Patricia didn't love you back?"

"What are you asking me?" he said.

"Would you have stayed with my mother if Patricia didn't love you back?"

"I can't answer that, Mercedes. That's not how it was."

"Were you and my mother happy?"

"Yes. We were at one time."

"Until Patricia."

"That's not fair. It's more complicated than that."

I stood up.

"I shouldn't have come. This was a mistake."

My father stood as well.

"The mistakes were all mine, Mercedes." He looked me straight into the eyes as he spoke his next words. "I love you."

Everything from the last few days was bubbling to the surface. It felt like there was a tsunami coming, and I was about to get sucked under if I didn't run for it.

So I did.

I took off like a bat out of hell running out of his house.

It wasn't the most mature moment of my life, but there was no way I was letting that man see me cry.

I flew passed the framed family portraits, flung open the front door and bolted down the six-step stoop.

My eyes were burning, my throat felt like it was closing, and my chest constricted.

I was so intent on getting away as fast as I could, that I wasn't even paying attention to where I was going.

Which is why I didn't see the man who was standing at the curb until I was wrapped in his arms.

Stay safe!