Page 4 of One Sweet Lie

“But you left her here by herself?”

“I need you to stay on topic, detective,” I said. “You made me—I mean us—rush home from a very important event, and it doesn’t look like the world has ended or anyone has died.”

He and the nurse exchanged nervous glances.

“There’s no easy way to break this news, Mr. Dawson,” he said. “We’re here tonight because a relative listed you as a biological family member during a recent hospital stay.”

“You must have the wrong guy, then.” I crossed my arms. “Everyone in this city knows I was orphaned, then adopted.”

“Unfortunately, the woman in question passed away due to severe complications after childbirth,” he continued talking as if he hadn’t heard a word I said. “But we gathered crucial information from notes she left behind with the infant children.”

“Am I speaking a foreign language?” I asked. “I don’t have any living relatives.”

“The children will be held in the intensive care unit for three weeks, but you’ll need to make arrangements or sign off on leaving them with the state.”

“Okay.” I couldn’t believe I left the party for this. “You both owe me an apology for wasting my time tonight. Feel free to walk yourselves out.”

“Congratulations, you’re the father.” Nurse Walton held up a picture of my ex-girlfriend, Lisa Heights.

Sporting a blue and white hospital gown, she was holding two bundled babies against her chest. An engagement ring shone brightly on her left hand—a gift from the man she’d left me for last year.

Her wedding was scheduled for December, and I wasn’t on the guest list.

Unsure of what the hell she’d told these people or why I was struggling to process the thought of her passing away, I knew those kids weren’t mine.

Theycouldn’tbe mine.

“You have the wrong guy, and you’re at the wrong condo,” I enunciated every syllable, hoping this would enhance their comprehension skills. “Lisa moved on to someone else right after we broke up the last time.”

“Given what we know about this situation,” the officer said, “the newborns in question are ninety-nine percent yours.”

“In that case, let’s get someone to run a test on that lingering one percent.”

“Seriously?” The nurse scoffed. “Please tell me you’re joking…”

“I haven’t seen Lisa in over seven months.” I wasn’t laughing at all. “That was also the last time we had sex.”

“Do we need to walk you through how pregnancy works, Mr. Dawson?”

“We always used condoms.”

“They’re not made of steel…”

Silence.

“I’m not a father.” I shook my head, refusing to accept this. This was an elaborate prank by one of the charities I’d helped, and cameramen were recording my reaction from afar.

“You should try to get in touch with Lisa’s fiancé,” I said. “I’m not a skilled detective, but I would probably use my time to talk to him.”

“He’s planning her funeral,” the nurse said. “He also took a paternity test in good faith, and he wants nothing to do with the kids.”

“So, he’s admitting to being a deadbeat father?”

“He’snotthe father.” She rolled her eyes. “Just sign them over to us so we can notify the state, and we’ll get out of your way.”

“Gladly.” I pulled a pen from my pocket, and she held out a clipboard.

“Make sure to check the fourth box, which says you’re fully aware that this may result in two separate adoption or foster appointments,” the detective said. “The state usually tries to keep siblings together, but there’s no guarantee.”

---