By the time Sir finished the story, I was sitting at the kitchen table and Lilah had put a beer in front of me.
Stunned, I grabbed it and downed half of it in a few swallows.
They both looked low-key shitting-bricks worried now.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Sir said. “But I swore never to hold stuff back.” He glared at Lilah. “I’ve already had a chat withsomeoneabout not looping me in sooner.”
Lilah actually fucking blushed. “Sorry,” she muttered.
I stood, grabbing the beer. “I need a shower,” I said. When Sir started to follow, I held up a hand. “Alone, please.”
With the water as hot as I could stand it, I stood there, numb, wanting to cry, wanting to scream.
Wanting to throw up, although that could’ve been from shot-gunning the rest of the beer on an empty stomach.
Not only did I have a father, my mother had lied on my birth certificate about where she was born. For reasons that would forever remain unknown, she’d erased my entire past.
All the countless times as a kid I wished my biological father would swoop in, scoop me up, and carry me away from the nightmares. Honestly, I think I stopped believing that would happen not long after I met Lilah.
Except… now I had a Daddy. I had a man who loved me, judgment free. Who would die before letting harm come to me.
And Lilah would undoubtedly shoot a bitch if they tried to hurt me.
When anger bubbled to the surface, I grabbed it and held my breath, taking a moment to truly examine it. Most of the latent anger in my life stemmed from the actions of a teenaged unwed mother who, for whatever reason, was forced to have and raise me on her own.
As an adult, I understood she’d done her best within whatever circumstances put her in that position. She’d been a fuckingkid, terrified, most likely.
I deal with patients older than she was when she’d had me.
I get why Lilah worried about me, because she tended to fret about my health more than I did, the way I tended to worry about hers over mine.
From the moment she entered my life, Lilah never did anything regarding me that wasn’t rooted in love for me. And likewise.
Jack had won her over and even that morning I’d been pondering asking him to propose so we could set a date.
And he had done as I asked when no one else—including Lilah—would have blamed him for keeping this secret from me no matter what I’d made him promise.
When I returned to the kitchen, the uncomfortable silence nearly bowled me over.
I pointedly walked over to Lilah first, hugging her. “I’m not… angry,” I said. “I wish you’d talked to me first, but I get it.”
Tension flowed from her and she hugged me tighter. “I love you, sis. I’m sorry. I really wasn’t thinking.”
Then I turned to Sir, who stood there leaning against the counter. I let him envelop me in his arms and I gave him the belated kiss hello.
And that’s when my tears flowed. “Thank you for keeping your promise.”
“I’m sorry, baby. I still would’ve told you even if he hadn’t replied like this, but Lilah and I would’ve figured out a way to soften the blow.”
“Can I see the message?”
“Sure.” He pulled out his phone and opened both the social media profile messages and the email account.
I looked at the man’s picture first. He didn’t have much on his profile that was publicly visible. I wasn’t sure if I resembled him or not—I’m a horrible judge of things like that on a good day—and scrolled through his profile for a few minutes.
Then I burst out laughing, which turned into crying.
“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked.
