As I continued to read, I learned that Max had disputed the mother’s paternity claim. An attractive blonde, Paula Elphin, maintained that they’d slept together when Max played for the Kings. He was newly married to Freya then. Of course he’d deny it. Even if he had Freya’s blessing to sleep around, the optics were bad. But it was his defense that made my pulse race and the back of my neck break out in a sweat.

Maxime Beausoleil claimed to be sterile.

His lawyer had submitted a doctor’s note into evidence. Complications from mumps, it said, a rare but plausible cause of infertility. The baby couldn’t possibly be Max’s—or so he declared. But the judge hadn’t bought it, had insisted on a paternity test. At the time of writing, the results were pending.

I immediately searched for a follow-up article. I had to know if my best friend’s husband had a child out there. Perhaps its existence explained Max’s long and frequent absences? But why had the kid never come to visit? It would be in elementary school by now. I knew that Freya had hated children, but her pregnancy had changed things, had changed her. This child, if it were Max’s, would be welcome now.

But if it wasn’t his . . .

A specific Google search provided the answers I sought. The test results proved that Max was not the father of Paula Elphin’s baby. So did that mean Max was sterile, as he’d claimed? The judge had ordered only a DNA test, not a fertility test. Max’s ability to father children was irrelevant to the court. But it was not irrelevant to me. Because if Maxime Beausoleil was not the father of Freya’s baby, who was?

And who had sent me this article?

Suddenly, Brian was behind me. “Almost done?” he asked breezily.

I turned to face him, my chagrin and confusion evident. “I—I just got this e-mail.”

“From whom?”

“I don’t know.”

Brian took a seat, and I slid the laptop to him. He read the first article, his brow furrowed with confusion. Without a word, he clicked to the second piece, his face growing darker as he read the results of Max’s paternity test. I saw him put the pieces together in his brain, watched him scramble with the possibilities.

“What does this mean?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

Brian stood. “It means we need to talk to Max and Freya.”

Chapter 49

49

brian