It was an early Sunday morning. The sun was hitting his face as he laid on the couch, beer cans and bottles all over the floor. He sighed as he heard knocking from the front door.

"I'm coming, Jesus..." He mumbled as she stumbled over to the door. He opened it and no one was there until he looked down, a baby carrier at the foot of the door with a small bundle in it and a letter. He cursed as he picked it up and read it.

"You probably don't remember me, but I remember you. We had a good night. Too good. I can't take care of our baby. I'm not ready to be a mom. I'm sorry. I know you're a good guy, you'll know what to do, you'd be a great dad. I'm sorry."

He stared down at the baby, the little thing looked up at him before they started to cry. I'm a dad. The thought sent a chill down his spine.