“I don’t know,” I admit. “The answer is tucked in an envelope in my car.”
“What?” Adler blurts. “Why didn’t you open it?”
“Because I’m not sure I want to find out,” I say. “I’ve lived my whole life without knowing, and I was fine with it, you know?”
“Yeah,” Miles murmurs, and I know he understands. He grew up in foster care as well and has never met his biological parents.
“But what if she really is your mom?” Adler presses. “I mean, this would be huge, right? Wouldn’tyouwant to know?” he adds to Miles.
He hesitates for a second. “I think I would. But I also understand wanting to keep that buried. And if it’s not her, then you have a huge disappointment waiting for you in that envelope.”
I sigh. “Exactly.”
And they don’t even know about the other fake family members who showed up at my door before. Another reason to throw that envelope in the trash.
“And even if she is my mother,” I finally add, “what does it change? Do I even want to know her?”
“I get it,” Miles says, nodding slowly. “It’s weird, I admit… but I think I’d still want answers. Know where I came from. Understand the circumstances. Ask about the rest of my family.”
Adler dips his head in agreement. “And even if you choose to meet up with her, that doesn’t mean you need to have a relationship with this woman. You can hear her out, and if you never want to see her again, then don’t.”
I rake a hand through my hair. He’s not wrong. Maybe it’s worth a shot. “I guess you have a point.”
“Well,” Miles says, “first off, we need to know whether she’s your mom. Want us to grab the envelope from your car?”
I can’t bring myself to answer. I just drop my car key on the counter. Adler grabs it and bolts outside, making us laugh quietly.
He’s back minutes later, slightly out of breath, and neither of us has the heart to tease him for being out of shape—a reminder of just how heavy the situation is.
I take a deep breath and open the envelope. Inside is a single-page report from a private lab, and in bold letters is written:
“Results are consistent with a parent–child relationship.”
29
Harper
When they say breakups are hardcore, they’re not lying. I thought my previous relationships had left me wounded, that I’d seen it all—but this is next level. Probably because Baptiste was everything I ever wanted. Probably because I loved him. And because I’m the reason it’s over.
I’ve wanted to call him so many times these past few days. I even came close, thumb hovering over his name, heart pounding with anticipation, but what would I say? That I’m sorry? No apology can ever erase what I did. He’s right. I broke his trust, and I did it for the wrong reasons. I was so obsessed with unearthing the truth, I forgot his feelings in the process. I treated his life like a story Iwas investigating. And I went too far, convincing myself the end justified the means.
But it didn’t.
Part of me wonders if he ever opened the envelope. If Helen is his real mom after all. I called her to explain that I didn’t look at the results but gave them to Baptiste. That it was up to him to open them or let things lie. To contact her or keep living his life, and she agrees it was the best course of action.
I shake my head, forcing myself back into focus.
I have to stop thinking about this. It’s none of my business anymore. The very fact that I made it my business in the first place pushed away the first guy I ever truly loved. I have to take this as a lesson. A hard one. A reminder to stick to my job—and to listen to my boss when she says I’m going too far.
I haven’t been able to drag myself to the office since it happened, but thankfully, I can do my job from home. Which is where I am now.
But I’m still nowhere close to finding anything new on Victor.
I get up from my spot on the floor by the couch and trudge to the kitchen to fix myself a sandwich. I’ve been surviving on energy drinks and bologna sandwiches. And, well—it’s working. I’m alive.Cue the applause.
I sit back down on the floor, surrounded by printouts and scribbled notes from my first case on Victor, when my phone rings.
Assuming it’s my boss, I curse myself mentally for not calling her. Selma always gets anxious when I disappear for a few days.
