“So does this mean that you're my...?” I trail off, hoping Jackson will finish the sentence and needing him to confirm the obvious.
“Yes, Paloma. It's quite possible that you are my daughter.”
I draw in another breath, shaking my head back and forth, “but you’re Dallas’ father!”
He nods, “And I’ll always be that to him, but I met his mother after my relationship with Brandy ended and Dallas' was already four years old at the time I entered his life.”
Suddenly, I spring to my feet, crushed by the whirlwind of the evening. “I’m… I’m feeling overwhelmed. Mr. Roe, Ms. Golden, I’m so sorry... I just need a moment to process all of this.”
They nod, “Completely understandable my dear. Take all of the time you need.”
I turn, rushing back inside the home and up to the first set of stairs that I can find.
I wander through the vast, labyrinth of a house—somehow both Dallas’s and mine in this surreal, stepsibling twist I didn’t see coming—unsure of my destination.
Before I can grasp where I’ve landed and what’s happening, Dallas is right behind me. His strong arms wrap around my waist, pulling me close against his chest and stopping my erratic thoughts and movements.
“My room’s down this way. Come on.”
Chapter 31 – Dallas
“This is some kind of fucked up dream. I'm dreaming, right?” Paloma murmurs to herself. She stops for a moment, pinching a tiny bit of skin on her forearm then shakes her head before continuing her pacing back and forth across my childhood bedroom floor.
I sit quietly on the bed, watching her as she mumbles a string of incoherent words, her face bunched up in distress.
I can’t even imagine how she’s feeling right now. Her entire world and everything she'd thought she knew had just imploded. I’m sure there were also feelings of disappointment that my dad – her dad – hadn’t realized Margarita was Brandy when I’d first asked him all those years ago.
She draws in another shaky breath, “So, you’re telling me, that all along, my birth mom had provided my biological father’s address on the hospital paperwork? And neither of us considered the fact that your, stepfather was my dad?” she shouts loudly, then drops her voice a few octaves.
She pinches the bridge of her nose and then blows out her breath.
“I’d been writing to the address she’d put on her hospitalpaperwork, and no one even suggested that maybe it was because it was mydad’saddress?”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that question because it’s true, in the realm of possibilities, I’d never considered that the man who had adopted me, the man I called dad, might have also been her father. So, in this situation, silence feels like the best approach. There was nothing I could say that could take back the past two and a half decades of her missing out on knowing who her biological mother and father were. Especially given the fact that I grew up having her dad be my own.
The whole situation couldn't have been anymore fucked up.
“I don’t know what to do. Please say something," she begs as she drops onto the bed next to me, then curls her body closely to my side in the fetal position. I lay back, wrapping my entire frame around hers as if I can shield her from these conversations and the inevitable decisions she’ll need to make as I listen to her breathing slow and still.
We remain in silence, her heartbeat resonating against my chest while my mind races in a thousand ways to rewind the day and shield her from this painful revelation. Yet, amid the chaos, I understand that in a strange, twisted way, this might be a gift. Answers she may have never gotten if we hadn’t fallen in love.
I gently rub her back, holding her close as we lay in the darkness together. I'd like to say something selfish like,if you’d never taken the chance at writing to your mother, we’d never have met.’But I know I didn't feel that way. I would give back knowing her, even if it pained me to do so, in order for her to have had the opportunity to meet Brandy and Jackson when she was younger and looking for answers.
"You have Brandy's name now. If this is something that you still want to pursue, you should stay and reach out to her. See if she wants to talk. And also, you should stay and get to know Jackson. I think he’d like that.”
“What?” she looks up at me through tear-stained eyes still nuzzled against my chest.
I nod, my voice is steady despite the weight of my words. "I've had the privilege of knowing him my entire life, and I’d give up all those cherished memories and his love if it meant you could have just a fraction of that time with him. I know, without a doubt, that he's downstairs right now regretting missing out on the twenty-six years of your life and the chance to get to know you. He and my mom tried to have children when they first got together, but he was significantly older, and it just never ended up happening. He doesn't have any other children of his own. He would love to know you, not just as the woman I hope to marry someday, but as his daughter, Paloma.”
She shakes her head again. “I have so many questions. This is so incredibly fucked up. So, you might be my… my stepbrother?”
I laugh. “I don’t want to think about that. I don’t think it counts in our situation. At least, that’s what I’m going to tell myself.”
“What would I even do if I stayed here?”
"You’ve got some downtime between concerts. See if you can adjust your schedule or plan to return during your next break. I’ll stay in Lonestar Junction to give you space and time to connect with them. You can stay in my old bedroom here and fully embrace the stepbrother experience. Use this time to get to know Jackson. While you’re here, see if you can track down Brandy and arrange a meeting with her."
She draws in a breath and shakes her head again before ducking her head in between my armpit.
