Suddenly One Summer (FBI/US Attorney #6)(71)

“At least she would’ve had the chance to tell you she was pregnant,” Victoria said.

“Well, I didn’t know that was even a possibility. I thought we used a condom. But we were pretty drunk, so . . .” With a sheepish blush, he cleared his throat. “Anyway. What happens now?”

“To start, I’ll give you the address of a lab you can go to for the paternity test.”

He nodded. “And then you’ll call me with the results?”

“That won’t be necessary. The lab will mail out two copies of the results, one to you directly and one to either Nicole or myself.”

Peter shook his head emphatically. “No way. They can’t send anything to my home or to work. I can’t risk that Melanie would find out that way. We agreed we didn’t want to know what happened while we were apart, that it didn’t matter,” he explained. “But now she’s pregnant. And she’s so excited about that. How am supposed to tell her that I might already have a kid with someone else—with a woman she never knew about?” He gestured at Victoria. “I mean, how would you react if you found that out about your husband?”

“Mr. Sutter, it’s really n—”

“I know, I know, it’s none of your business.” He shook his head, looking despondent. “I just don’t want to hurt her.”

Something inside Victoria softened. Yes, she thought Peter could’ve handled the situation with Nicole better—hell, the guy could’ve at least left a note before hightailing it out of her apartment. But now, at least, he appeared genuinely interested in doing the right thing.

She reached inside her purse, pulled out the business card she’d prepared, and slid it across the table. “If you like, we can tell the lab to send the results only to me. That’ll give you a few days to figure out how to explain everything to your wife. My recommendation? Go with the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but.”

He half-smiled, and took the card. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

That settled, Victoria grabbed her purse and stood up. “I wrote the address of the lab on the back of my business card.”

“Wait,” Peter said. “You didn’t tell me. The baby . . . is it a boy or a girl?”

Victoria paused, the cynical divorce lawyer in her not having expected that question.

Normally, I see families as they’re falling apart. I’ve never had the chance to bring one together before.

“It’s a girl,” she said.

“A girl.” His eyes turned momentarily misty, and then he cleared his throat. “Right. I’ll wait for your call, then.”

* * *

VICTORIA HAILED A cab and called Nicole during the ride back to her office.

“You caught me just in time—I’m about to leave for an audition,” Nicole said. “Did you talk to him? How did it go?”

Victoria filled Nicole in on her conversation with Peter Sutter. “He says he plans to voluntarily take the paternity test, but let’s not hold our breath,” she said while paying the cabdriver. “It’s easy for people to say they want to do the right thing. Actually doing it is a whole other matter.” It had just begun to rain, so she climbed out of the taxi and dashed into her building.

“Do you think he’s going to tell his wife?” Nicole asked.

“He made it sound that way. But I figure he’ll wait until he has actual proof that he’s Zoe’s father before having that conversation.”

Nicole exhaled. “Right.”

They wrapped up the call just before Victoria stepped into the elevator. As she pushed the button for her floor, she felt cautiously optimistic about this development in the case. Over the course of the last several weeks, she’d prepared herself for the worst with Peter Sutter. But maybe Nicole and Zoe actually were going to catch a break in this. Maybe Peter would want to be a part of his daughter’s life, beyond just his financial obligations.

Unfortunately, she got to revel in that optimism for all of about thirty seconds.

As soon as she stepped into her office, Will handed her a stack of messages. Then one of her associates knocked on her door to discuss a client who’d spontaneously decided, mid-divorce, to spend over a hundred thousand dollars redecorating her home, and now had been hit—not surprisingly—with an emergency motion that accused her of depleting marital assets.

After addressing that mini-crisis, she spent the next few hours on the phone, going from call to call and putting out fires. Or, in some cases, starting a few fires herself.

In other words, it was a typical Monday afternoon.

But at five o’clock, after finishing an hour-long conference call, she did something that was atypical—for her, at least.

Will’s mouth fell open when he walked into her office with yet more message slips and saw her packing up her briefcase. “Are you leaving? You haven’t left the office at five since . . .” He cocked his head, coming up empty. “See? There is no end to that sentence.”

“There’s an errand I need to run.” Changing the subject, she took the message slips from him. “Anything noteworthy?”

“Mr. Dixon called. This is becoming a regular thing. Perhaps I should add him to your speed dial?” Will grinned when she shot him a glare. “Oh, spare me the look—so I’m having fun here. I like him. And so do you, even if you won’t admit it. I see the smile on your face after you talk to him.”