Page 43 of Seduction Under the Southern Stars

“Can you send me a photo?”

I blink. “Of myself?” God, what a stupid question. Who else would he want me to send a photo of?

“Yeah.”

Flustered, I take a selfie and text it to him.

He’s quiet for a moment as he waits for it to come through. Then he gives a short laugh.

“Sorry about the hair,” I say. “I haven’t had a shower yet.”

“Hold on,” he says. I wait for a moment, then a banner appears on my phone announcing the arrival of a text.

I tap it, and a picture pops up. I stare at it.

It’s a selfie he’s probably just taken, because he’s in a garden, and it’s early morning. He’s looking straight at the camera. He has the same color hair as me, only his is a little longer and graying at the temples. He has more lines around his eyes and mouth, and a short graying beard. But his eyes are the same as mine—a bright, startling green. It looks like me, about twenty-five years in the future.

Holy fuck.

He clears his throat. “Okay, look. I think maybe it would be best for both of us if we had a paternity test done, don’t you?”

My heart’s racing. “Yes, of course, that makes perfect sense. I’ll pay for it.”

“That won’t be necessary,” he says firmly. “I know a little about it because a colleague of mine got one done a few months ago. How long are you in New Zealand for?”

“I’m joining a corporate cruise on Wednesday in Christchurch for a few days. I’m flying back to the UK on Monday the fifth.”

“Not long then. Okay, look, leave it with me for an hour or so. I’ll contact Bob and find out the process. Where are you now?”

“Wellington.”

“My guess is that you’ll have to go to a lab and give a cheek swab. I’ll do the same, and they’ll be sent to Auckland, probably, to be compared. I’ll see if I can get it fast tracked as we haven’t got long before you leave.”

“Okay. I’m sorry to put you through all this trouble.”

“It’s no trouble,” he says. “I’ll let you know where to get the test done, and we’ll take it from there.”

“Okay, thank you.” I hesitate. “I don’t want to cause trouble. But my father… I mean, Don… was not a nice man. And I just wanted…” My throat tightens, and I can’t continue.

“Death is always a shock, no matter what our relationship was like with the person when they were alive,” Edmund says. “Give yourself time to process it, especially while you’re in New Zealand. Look, I’ll get back to you shortly, okay? Let me sort out the test, then we can go from there.”

“Okay.”

“Speak soon.” He ends the call.

I sink onto the sofa, toss the phone onto the table, and put my face in my hands, then drop my head, sliding my hands into my hair. I blow out a long, shaky sigh.

After a few seconds, I pick up the phone again and pull up the photo he sent me.

I stare at it for a while, taking in every detail.

I know the brain does strange things. You can show someone a series of unconnected lines, and they will automatically fill the gaps to make a square. You decide you’re going to buy a red Ford, and suddenly you see red Fords everywhere. I want this guy to be my father, and so I’m going to look for similarities. Lots of men have dark hair and green eyes. It’s highly likely it’s a coincidence. I need to stay objective.

But it’s impossible not to see myself in his features. It’s not just the fact that his hair is dark, and his eyes are green. It’s the lift of his brow, the curve of his lips. His sense of humor, his manner.

No, I’m trying to see shapes in the clouds. I can’t do this or I’m going to get terribly hurt.

Apart from the short time I lived with Sophia, I’ve spent most of my time alone. I’m used to dealing with my problems myself, to finding ways to deal with my emotions. But something makes me think of Elora, and I find myself wanting to tell her about what’s just happened.

---