“Yeah,” Tori said. “It’s hard to do a bad adaptation of Edgar Allan Poe.”
The two of them had been texting non-stop about a French director named Roger Vadim. I’d only heard of him because he directedBarbarella, but apparently, he’d done tons of movies that both Tori and Anja loved, though Tori seemed to know a little more about them.
“The last segment was the freakiest,” Anja said. “The severed head?”
Tori shivered. “I know. Terence Stamp is totally haunting. You should watchPretty Maids All in a Rownext,” she suggested. “It’s the one he did afterBarbarella. With Rock Hudson.”
“Rock Hudson, is he the one from all the Doris Day movies?” Anja asked.
Tori grinned. “That’s him. It’s a weird movie but I think you’ll like it.”
“They’re all weird. That’s the best part,” Anja said eagerly.
“Sounds like a good distraction,” I said, inadvertently reminding us why we were there.
A quiet hush fell over the three of us as the reality of the situation sank back in. In the distance I heard the clip clop of shoes against the tile floor. The door to the back offices swung open and our heads snapped up as a nurse said, “We’re ready for you,” and gestured for us to follow her.
“I guess this is it,” I said, standing.
Tori took a deep, shuddering breath, and I kept a firm hold of her hand. My heart was pounding in my chest as we followed the nurse, Anja walking behind us. I had no idea what to expect. I wasn’t even sure I knew what I wanted anymore.
For all these years, Anja had been a dream; a ghost from my past that I was constantly chasing. Then, just when I’d started to think it was time to give up on finding out what had happened to her, she had returned—bringing the possibility of a child, of afamily, into my life. I’d realized that I didn’t hate the idea of being of father, more confident than ever that I would not repeat the same mistakes my own father had made…but was I ready to be the father of a seven-year-old child who I barely knew? Who I’d never had a chance to bond with?
The nurse stopped outside an office and gestured for us to go inside.
“The doctor is in,” she said with a smile. “Don’t worry, her bark is worse than her bite.”
We took our seats across from a doctor sitting at a desk. She was young, with a shock of unruly dark curls, and wearing a serious expression that didn’t seem to match the hair. It was hard to gauge any information from her expression, though. A file was open on the desk.
I strained to see what was written on the pages spread before her, but I was too far away. The writing was too small, and it was upside down anyway.
“Ms. Fischer,” she said, using Anja’s legal pseudonym, “Mr. Zoric. And Mrs. Zoric.” She nodded at all of us gravely. “I have your DNA results here. As you know, we run all our tests twice, and we now have a conclusive answer for you regarding the paternity of—” she glanced down at the paperwork. “Maxim.”
I let out a breath. “Okay,” I said.
“We’re ready,” Anja added.
Glancing over at Tori, I saw that she was pale but her posture was straight. She looked at me and gave me a short, firm nod. Then I looked at Anja again. Her skin was practically leeched of all color but she also gave me a nod. I linked my fingers together with Tori’s. Whatever the results were, we’d face it together.
The doctor cleared her throat and looked down at the paperwork again. My pulse raced.
“The DNA shows conclusively that you, Stefan Zoric,” she said calmly, “are not Maxim’s father. Your DNA is a 0% match.”
“Wait. Are you positive?” I couldn’t help asking.
“Positive,” the doctor said, not a sliver of doubt in her tone, and I suddenly realized why she put on such a serious face for these appointments. “We ran two independent tests, with two different lab technicians.”
I let out a breath, feeling my shoulders slump with the release of so much tension. Despite the confidence of the doctor’s assertion, it still took a long time for her words to sink in. It was a shock. I wasn’t Max’s father.
There was a soft, muffled sound, and I turned to find that Anja had her head in her hands and was crying. Tori let go of me and went over to Anja, rubbing her shoulders and back and murmuring soft comforting words.
I felt numb.
“I’ll leave you alone to process this. Take as long as you need,” the doctor said, picking up the file and heading out the door, shutting it firmly behind her.
Not Max’s father.
I took a breath and leaned back in my chair, my head resting against the wall. I didn’t know how I felt. Relief, yes, but also disappointment.
