She’s always been able to tell what I’m thinking.
‘It had crossed my mind… He died in July 1999, and I was born in April 2000.’
She counts the months on her fingers. ‘It’s a definite possibility.’
‘But the letters say they broke up in June 1999. So he can’t be my dad, can he?’
‘Ah in that case – no…’
‘Thenthatletter,’ I say, pointing at my phone in her hand, ‘dated July 1999, sounds like they… well, it sounds like theydidit. What do you think?’
‘Thank you for last night… your body close to mine… you cared enough to do that… sounds like it. But it’s not proof.’
‘No, it’s not proof, but it goes from himnotbeing my dad in June topossiblybeing my dad in July.’
‘True,’ she says. ‘But don’t forget babies can come early or late. Did your mum ever mention that?’
‘She sometimes complains I’m always late – have been since the day I was born.’
‘Well, in that case the overlap is even bigger. And you know – no offence to your mum – she could have been sleepingwith both of them.’ Chloe grimaces when she sees my horrified expression. ‘But the details don’t matter,’ she adds. ‘The fact is, it’s definitely a possibility. How do you feel about it?’
My stomach twists. ‘I don’t know… sort of… muddled up,’ I tell her. But that doesn’t really explain it. ‘I love my dad, it would throw my world upside down if he wasn’t my dad, after all. I can’t stop thinking about it.’
‘It’s just biology. It doesn’t change anything. He’d still be your dad.’
‘But it might change the way he feels about me.’ As soon as I say the words out loud, they hit me. My throat is closing.
‘Come here.’ She gathers me into a hug.
What would I do without Chloe?
‘He’s been your dad for sixteen years,’ she says into my shoulder. ‘He couldn’t forget that. He wouldn’t. It wouldn’t change the way you feel about him, would it?’
I sniff. ‘No.’
She pushes me to arm’s length. ‘And your biological dad would be a rock star.’
‘Yeah, adeadrock star.’
She lets go of my shoulders. ‘Have you talked to your mum about it?’
I tell Chloe about Mum catching me reading the letters. Her eyes grow wider with every sentence and when I tell her Mum said she killed Will Bailey, they nearly pop out of her head.
‘You don’t think sheliterallykilled him?’
‘No. She’s not capable of that. Not on purpose, anyway.’
‘So, she feels somehow responsible?’
‘That’s what I think.’
‘But she said Scott’s your dad. Don’t you believe her?’
‘She sounded certain. That’s whatshebelieves. But it’s my life, I need to be sure. When I told Dad, he offered to do a paternity test.’
‘Oh my God, it’s like a movie!’
‘He ordered a test kit yesterday. We’ll have to wait and see. I’ve got to try not to think about it.’