Serves Me Wright (Wright #9) - K.A. Linde Page 0,70

one who insisted we talk to you before speaking to Weston.”

“She must hate me. I thought we were just…” He trailed off.

It made my insides squirm to think that they might reconcile.

“To her credit, she never believed it,” I offered. “She said that you would have told her if you’d known while you were married.”

“Of course I would have told her,” he insisted vehemently. “Can you imagine keeping a secret like that from your mom?”

Jordan and I shrugged at the same time. As if, yes, we could imagine keeping things from Mom. And we’d learned how to lie from our dad. That was for damn sure.

But…this…this felt like the truth. I didn’t know if it was because I had so desperately wanted there to be an answer to this horrible question, but it all fit together. Our father was a good liar, but he hadn’t been surprised by our question of him. He hadn’t shied away from it at all. There hadn’t been a moment of hesitation. He was good, but he wasn’t that good. Not when we were in on his tricks.

“How do we know this is all true?” I finally asked.

“Well, I’d appreciate some trust,” my dad said.

Jordan managed only a half-laugh. “Do you still have the original emails?”

He scrunched up his features. “Maybe. He sent it to the business email, and everything from that was dumped after I was…let go. I transferred a lot over. I can go through my emails and see if I can get it for you. But you could always respond to Weston and see what he says.” My dad shrugged. “I don’t know what he would say. I doubt he’d admit that he’d already reached out to me and it hadn’t gone his way.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t you see?” our dad asked. He winced before saying, “Being my son comes with privilege. I was the head of the Vancouver company. I had money to spare. I had access.”

Jordan nodded. “Did he ask for money?”

“No,” our dad said. “I think he actually believed he was my son.”

“Then, why?”

Our dad hung his head. “I gave his mother money. She was…on hard times. We were friends at the time and reconnected for a while when I was in a dark place after you all left. He might have…discovered that I’d done that.”

“Jesus, Dad,” Jordan growled.

I shook my head. There it was. There it always was. The caveat.

“I try to put on a brave face for you both, but I was a mess,” he said solemnly. “What do you want me to say? I’d lost the company, my wife, my kids. I’d lost everything I’d ever cared about. I hate to say it, but I wanted Weston to be my son.”

I balked. “What?”

“It would have been a chance for me to start over.” He sounded so desperate that my heart actually hurt for him. A feeling I’d never thought I’d have again. “You wouldn’t talk to me. You wouldn’t see me. Everything was gone. What else did I have? So, I wanted this new life. It wasn’t real though. It’s why when Jordan called me, I hopped on the chance. I’d do anything to make this right with you. To have my real family back. I’ve made mistakes. I know I have, but I’m not the man I was, and I mean that.”

I could see that he did. That he really truly did.

Even Jordan’s face released the tension, the doubt. This was our dad, laid bare for us. The crumbled, destroyed shell of a person he’d been. He’d reaped what he’d sown, but for how long? Forever? Did he deserve an eternity of those dark days without us?

“Why don’t…why don’t we just play the round?” Jordan suggested. “Figure it out after that.”

A glimmer of light returned to our dad’s eyes. “You still want to golf?”

“Why don’t we take it a day at a time?”

“Julian?” he asked me.

I swallowed and looked into the beast of my youth. And I realized he was just like all the rest of us. He’d fucked up. He’d owned up to it. Maybe we all deserved another chance here.

“I agree. Let’s play.”

30

Jennifer

“Funnel cake, honey?” my mom asked.

“Yes, please.”

We walked around downtown, where food trucks had taken up most of the LHUCA area. I’d been up here this morning in one of the studios, working with another portrait appointment and then a couple who wanted carnival-themed engagement shots. The portrait session had taken everything out of me—in the best way. I felt like the session