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Melania blinked rapidly at him. "You're not—" she started to say, shaking her head slightly as though she had misheard him—because, surely, she had misheard him. "You're not trying to tell me that that—" Melania pointed above, presumably toward Oliver, "he is the father of a—of a—that he is a father."

She started to laugh. "That boy—" Melania made it her business to know every single event that happened in Oliver's life. The goal was lofty, to be sure, but she had damn well succeeded at every big sister's right to nose right in to a little brother's life. Surely, at some point, she would have noticed that her precious baby brother had a baby himself.

"—has never even had a girlfriend, to my knowledge, he's not—he can't…" her laughter trailed off as she watched Max's face. "You're—you're serious."

How could he not tell her? How did Max, close as family as he was, find out this news out before Oliver's own sister? She started to feel licks of panic.

After a moment, Melania shook her head more vigorously. "No. You're wrong. I would know if my little brother had a four-year old running around. That's not something he would hide from me."