Pacey Witter grinned at the sight before him, two perfectly toned ass cheeks swaying as they climbed a flight of stairs to his third floor apartment. A quick glance behind him offered him the perfect view down the shirt of the other blonde who followed just behind him. Damn, life was good.

After a little few months in Boston, Pacey had to find himself an apartment. Located in the heart of downtown, three blocks from Civilization, his place of employment as a chef, and surrounded by no more than ten different bars, the place was a steal at only $550 a month. With one bedroom, one bath and a combination living room/kitchen it was the perfect bachelor pad. Not quite perfect enough though, after working for over a year at Civilization, he finally saved up enough money to buy himself another boat. As soon as he found the perfect one, he was high tailing it out of the apartment. In the mean time, he had better things to do.

Namely, Sophie and Elise, the blond combo he'd picked up at Cat's Cradle that evening after work. Considering the day he'd had and the weekend rush he'd have to deal with tomorrow and Sunday, he felt he deserved a treat.

Sophie, or maybe it was Elise, giggled behind him as he took her hand. "There are so many stairs, Pacey!" She giggled again.

"Yeah. How many you got?" The other girl asked, he was reasonably sure she was Elise. But he'd call her Larry if it meant he got his hands on her beautifully sculpted ass that was currently at his eye level.

"Why don't you ladies count them? I'm sure the super would love to know." He really had no patience for conversation, if he wanted to talk, he'd go see Joey and Audrey who were rooming together again this year, or the rest of his friends at Grams' house. No, tonight he wanted to get laid--times two.

"One...two...three..." Sophie began from behind him. He was pretty sure she was Sophie at this point. He remembered her as being the dimmer of the two. Not that Elise was about to win any awards for her intelligence.

"There's just one more flight," he promised them. "You'll love my apartment."

"A king sized bed and with a mirror on the ceiling?" Elise shot a seductive glance over her shoulder, "What's not to love?"

He was hard in an instant at the reminder of what awaited them once they got to his place. Two women at once...what a great start to the weekend.

"Forty-eight...forty-nine...fifty...fifty-one...fifty-two...fifty-four..."

"Fifty-three," Elise corrected.

"Fifty-huh?"

"You forgot fifty-three."

"I did not."

"You did so."

"Ladies, ladies," Pacey smiled, "Let's focus on the more important issues?"

"Like what?" Sophie questioned brightly.

"Like the fact we're here." He released Sophie's hand and walked to his door, fishing his keys from his pocket.

"Um...Pacey?"

"Yeah, babe?" He unlocked the door, holding it open for the two women.

"What is that?" Elise pointed with disdain to the floor just beside the door. Pacey followed the direction of her finger to an expensive looking woven basket.

Not a regular basket, a bassinet.

"I think it's a baby." Sophie offered helpfully.

Pacey glanced up and down the hall. Who would leave a baby alone in a hallway? The stairs were just to his right, and there were only four apartments on his floor, his, the honeymooning couple next door, old Mr. Wilmont at the end, and Marissa, a college student, across the hall. She had to have been baby-sitting.

And what, Witter? Forgot the baby outside?

With dread clenching his stomach, he moved to the bassinet. Sure enough, there was baby, wrapped in soft pink blankets, her little face just barely visible, at least she was sleeping. An envelope was nestled in the blankets, just to the side. With his name on it.

The dread turned to straight out nausea.

Opening the envelope, he pulled out two sheets of paper, ignoring the hand written note, he unfolded the formal document.

"Victoria Celeste Witter

Born June 21, 2002 at 4:18 AM

6 pounds 8 ounces and 25 inches

At St. Johns Hospital

To Parents Melanie Shay Thompson and Pacey Witter"

Pacey stared dumbfounded at the document, his buzz completely doused. Parent? Him? It was a mistake. It had to be. He couldn’t have a—he checked the date again—an five-month-old daughter. Daughter. The word flashed in his mind.

Fumbling for the other paper, nearly ripping it, his eyes landed on Melanie’s familiar flowing scrawl:

Pacey,

I know this is a horrible way to tell you you’re a dad, I meant to tell you in person. But I’ve been waiting for a few hours already, and you’re not here. I just can’t wait any longer. My plane leaves at 10:30.

He checked his watch frantically, it was already past twelve.

I checked at the restaurant at eight, but they said you’d left for the night already. I hope you’ll be back soon, I don’t want her left out here too long. Your neighbor was nice enough to wait with her. She seems nice, very much your type.

It’s a long story, suffice to say. Here’s the abbreviated version. I found out I was pregnant in December and I never planned to tell you. I hid the pregnancy from my family, convinced I could raise her on my own. As soon as she was born, I knew I couldn’t handle it. I tried, Pacey, really I did. Being a mother isn’t nearly as easy or fun as everyone says it is. I guess I just don’t have a maternal bone in my body. After two months, I told my parents, thinking maybe they could help. They insisted I give her up for adoption and move away from Boston. I played along, and brought her here. If she doesn’t have her mother, she should at least have her father, right?

The papers relinquishing all my rights to her are tucked into the back of the bassinet with her medical records and sleeping and eating schedule, I hope that’ll help you out some. There are some diapers and baby formula in the back, those should get you through the night.

Don’t ask my family where I am, they wont tell you, especially knowing you’re the father. I wish you and Victoria the best. If you decide you don’t want her either, put her up for adoption.

Love, Melanie

By the end of the letter Pacey’s stomach was threatening revolt. The mother of the child he never knew he had was skipping town? Melanie was by all accounts long gone by now.

When he finally looked up from the paper in his hand, Sophie and Elise were headed down the stair case and a grumpy brunette stood in their place. Marissa’s unruly curls were pulled away from her face in a messy bun and she wore a pair of flannel pajama pants and a tank top. She crossed her arms over her chest, "I can’t believe the women you date. Or fuck, I should say. You don’t exactly date them, now do you?"

Marissa never had forgiven him for sleeping with and then dumping her the morning after. "I really don’t need this right now, Marissa." He groaned, looking down at his daughter.

"No, it looks like what you need is a baby-sitter. And before you start getting any ideas, no. Waiting here for the last four hours for you has been bad enough. That child wet her diapers four times."

Seizing on a topic that didn’t directly revolve around his new found fatherhood, he directed his attention to his neighbor. "Why did you leave her alone?"

"I went to the bathroom."

"You could have taken her inside."

"And then I wouldn’t have known when you came back, and before you say anything more, yes, I could have knocked every few hours, but had I done that, who knows what I would have interrupted. This worked out just fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my duty is done and I have a paper to write."

"Wait. Did Mel say where she was going?"

"No, but I have to tell you Pacey, as far as personality goes, she’s got to be the bottom of the barrel. She treated that baby like a doll she’d grown out of. Victoria is better off without Melanie Thompson for a mother."

With that, Marissa closed her door, leaving Pacey alone with his daughter.

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