"That’s what your dad told you?" Lake lifts his brows.
"Yes, he died when I was still in his belly."
Lake swallows. "Okay, then I must have mixed something up, confused it, you know, it’s been so many years." I can see he’s stumbling over his own words. He squeezes my hand quickly and says, "Well, anyway, sweetheart, happy birthday."
Then he quickly walks off, clearly embarrassed, but I have no intention of letting it go.
I walk straight to my dad and ask if he can step aside with me for a moment.
Bay, who’s unpacking another box of fireworks, raises his brows in surprise but says nothing.
We walk deeper into the garden, and my dad looks at me questioningly.
"What is it, honey?" he says, following me. We sit on one of the benches in the quieter part of the garden where no one can hear us anymore, and I say,
"Bay’s dad just told me that you two met once when you were both pregnant."
Dad’s expression wavers for a moment, then he says,
"I think he used to go to the same yoga class I did, but apart from that I don’t know him. I didn’t have any contact with him afterward. I stopped going to classes after you were born."
I study him for a few seconds.
"He got really flustered when I asked for details. The way he said it sounded very dramatic. He mentioned a tragedy."
Dad furrows his brows, thinks for a moment, then says,
"I have no idea how he knows anything about it. But, yes. There is a dramatic story tied to your birth. It happened during an accident. I suffered such a severe head injury that I lost all memory from that day. When I woke up, I was in the hospital and you were lying next to me. I never found out what happened, except for the fact that…"
He suddenly stops.
I see him pale slightly, struggling with something. He clenches his hands and finishes quietly, "That in that accident the man whose last name you carry… died."
He says the last words extremely softly.
A shiver runs through me.
What a strange way to refer to my father!
"The man whoselast name I carry?"
"Yes," Dad takes a deep breath, "I never wanted to burden you with it because I knew it would hurt you. But you’re eighteen now, and I think you have the right to know. Max Strada was my husband, but he wasn’t your biological father."
"Whoa, wow! I don’t understand. Is it an open secret, or something only you know?"
He goes quiet for a moment, but I push.
"I grew up with his brother, after all. Uncle Dimitri has been with us since I was a baby!"
Dad bites his lip and looks away. "You know… everyone believed it, and I didn’t correct them. Dimitri thought he was helping raise his brother’s child."
A cold chill sweeps through me. "What?!"
Dad inhales and presses his hands to his temples. It looks like he’s gathering his strength.
"Explain?"
He starts speaking in a rough voice.
