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“Daniel, what the hellare you—”
I noticed then that he was holding a bouquet of flowers. They were light blue, and more than a few appeared to be on the verge of wilting.
Noticing me noticing the flowers, Daniel said, “Don’t worry, they’re not for you, they’re for our daughter.”
I laughed out loud. “Are youkiddingme? This again? I already told you, Daniel, you’re not the father! How many times do I have to say it until you get it through your head?”
He shook his head, seemingly unfazed. “Don’t bother. I’m not here to listen to what you have to say.” He then pulled a small box from the pocket of his jacket, handed it to me, and took a step back. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“What are you—” I began, but then I looked down at what he had handed me—an at-home paternity test. I dropped it in disgust.
“Daniel, have you completely lost your mind? Absolutely not! I don’t need some test to confirm what I already know. And besides, I don’t want you in Sophie’s life anyway.”
For the first time, Daniel appeared hurt—not at my refusing to administer the DNA test, but at my insinuation that he wasn’t fit to be the father of my child. I waited for him to speak, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned around and walked back to his truck, turning to face me just before opening the driver’s door.
“This isn’t the end of things,” he said, struggling to maintain his composure. “I’m coming back later, and if you don’t agree to the paternity test… well, let’s just say things are gonna get a lot more difficult for you.”
Silently he turned from me, got into his truck, and drove away, leaving me in a stunned stupor.
20
BUSINESS ELSEWHERE
Lucas
It was just past midnight in Minnesota, and I was on the verge of falling into a deep sleep, when I received a call from Johann.Oh god,he must be drunk,I thought to myself. But this was pure speculation, based only on the time difference, and so I half-heartedly wiped the sleep from my eyes and answered it.
“What is it,” I asked tersely.
“Lucas,” Johann replied; something in his tone was off.
“Johann, what’s going on?”
“It’s bad… I’m in trouble, Lucas.”
I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. “What kind of trouble?”
“Do you remember the Russian investor I mentioned? The one involved with—”
“The MoMA exhibit—I remember.”
“Yeah, well… he told me there was some problem with a wire transfer, so I put in my own money: the arrangements, importing pieces from all over Europe, hosting networking events… Finally I asked him to write me a check, which he did, but… it bounced. And, I’ve just found out, he’s been detained by the NYPD, facing fifteen years for larceny and fraud.”
“That’s a lot to take in.” Then, I realized what he’d told me. “How much did you invest?”
There was a long, heavy silence. “Almost $150,000.”
This caught me off guard, and for a moment I couldn’t speak.
“Lucas,” he continued. “I messed up, and… I need your help. I wouldn’t be asking if my business, my reputation, didn’t depend on it.”
“Johann, I can help you, but on one condition.”
“Oh my god, thank you, Lucas! I can’t tell you how grateful I am.” I could hear the relief in his voice. “I promise, I’ll pay it back, every last penny.”
“That’s not it. The condition is, you have to let me help you make sure this never happens again. I think I should visit New York for a while. You know, until things are settled.”
“Of course,” he said. “My home is always open to you. And Lucas, thank you. I mean it.”
