away from Emelia’s phone. Peyton. His daughter. “Does Peter know you called her?”
Emelia shook her head. “No. He’s still pretty mad. He’s going to need some time.”
“Well then, thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Lacey also said in her message she’s going home today.” Emelia changed the subject.
Lacey. What a mess. “You don’t need to worry. Nothing’s going to happen there. Even without all of this, I’m not good enough for her.” He didn’t know what possessed him to say that. Maybe it was Emelia being kind to him when she had no reason to.
Emelia tilted her head as she tapped her phone, sending the photo off with a whoosh. His phone buzzed. “I used to feel that way about Peter. I believed I didn’t deserve to be happy after what happened to Anita.”
Victor dodged the unasked question. “Lacey has enough on her plate with her family. The last thing she needs is me, weighing her down with all my baggage.”
Emelia’s eyes widened. “What did she say about her family?”
“She didn’t say much. That’s just my own interpretation from when we were in Small Harbor.”
“You went to Small Harbor?” Emelia looked at him like he’d announced he’d been selected for the next Mars Rover mission. “But Lacey would never take someone there.”
He watched the cogs turning in Emelia’s head and backtracked some more. “She didn’t have a choice. She needed to drop something back to her dad.”
Emelia shook her head. “If she hadn’t wanted you there, she would have found another way.” She shook her head again as if trying to shake something loose in her brain. “Um, we should get downstairs for this meeting.” She’d barely finished the sentence before she was out the door and down the hall.
Victor looked at his sweaty workout gear. The same T-shirt that had been captive in Lacey’s hands only an hour before. It didn’t feel possible that less than twenty-four hours ago, he’d been planning to quit, believing that maybe he had finally earned something good.
Victor headed downstairs to the kitchen, the designated space for family conversations. Although it might be the parlor if his mother really was scared they might start swinging. Then everyone could be seated a safe distance away from each other.
He trudged into the room. The rest of the family were already there. Peter and Emelia on one side of the rectangular table. His parents, on the other, leaving him the choice of seats at the end. He chose the one closest to the door.
Peter’s jaw flexed, the only acknowledgment of his presence. Emelia’s fingers wrapped around her husband’s curled fist. Actual divine intervention. That was the only thing he could see ever salvaging his relationship with Peter. “Is this going to take long? I’m due back by lunchtime, and I’d prefer not to add a brassed-off coach to everything else.”
His mother spread her hands on the wooden surface. “Peter dear, stop acting like a spoiled child. The world doesn’t revolve around you.”
Victor’s jaw swung wide. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d heard his mother admonish her golden youngest.
Peter’s eyebrows jerked up. “He hasn’t told you.”
“About whatever your latest falling-out is about? No. Are you going to do the honors?”
“Peter.” Emelia’s voice held a tone of warning.
Victor’s stomach twisted like a fairground pretzel. If he didn’t speak, his brother would probably explode. “He’s entitled to be angry. I found out yesterday that I have a daughter. With Sabine.” He directed the bombshell toward the tabletop.
Silence. Lingering awkward silence. He glanced up. His father was studying his cup of tea. His mother’s hands shook as she shredded a napkin.
“How old is she?” Little white pieces of paper fluttered from his mother’s fingers.
“She just turned three. Her name is Peyton.” Victor’s hands fumbled with his phone as he pulled up her picture. “Here.” Thank you, God, for Emelia and her mission of mercy.
He handed the phone to his father. He took a quick look before handing it to his mother, who studied it like she was in the Louvre standing in front of the Mona Lisa. The side of her mouth lifted. “She’s lovely.”
“That’s all he’s going to get. She’s lovely.” Peter’s voice was so bitter it would have been cyanide in physical form. “Victor has a secret baby with my girlfriend, and that’s all he gets? My whole life, all he’s ever wanted is everything that’s mine, and you two have never called him on it.”
“That’s not true.” His mother was back to shredding the tissue. “Also,