The real Derek fell for someone he never expected and has loved every minute of the adventure.
I scratch that last part as I brace myself for what’s coming. My feelings for Donovan are more likely to get in my way than be helpful to the role, and I need to focus.
Hunter clears his throat. “Derek?”
When I don’t react, a husky feminine voice fills the room and evokes an involuntary shudder down my spine. “Derek.”
My head snaps up, giving me my first look at Brenda Reid. Keeping confusion at the forefront of my expression, I take a moment to study her and take in as much information as I can. She obviously looks older than she did fifteen years ago, but not as old as she would if she had let herself age naturally. Her stiff facial features and prominent cheekbones speak of plastic surgery, done well enough that she must have money to afford a good doctor. Her designer clothes tell the same story, so either she has been doing well for herself and still lives comfortably, or she made sure to dress the part of Derek Riley’s mother in case this turns into a photo op.
Whatever her motivation, until I know for sure what’s behind her scheme, I have to play her game.
Her fingers tap against her thigh as the silence stretches between us, and a diamond on her left hand catches the light. Is she married? It’s not the ring my father gave her. Either she botched another marriage and hasn’t taken it off, or she has a spouse out there. If a husband exists, the question is if he knows what she’s been doing or if he is someone to pity for being stuck with a narcissist.
I’ve sat here too long, and I need to get this conversation over with so I can get on with my life.
Slowly sitting up, I shift my confusion to disbelief, throwing a brief glance in Donovan’s direction. She’s watching me carefully, waiting to see how things go down. “Mom?” I croak. It’s hard to imagine any kindof relief at seeing her, but I need her to think she’s winning this ridiculous game she started.
Brenda exhales as she takes a hesitant step closer. “Hey, sweetie.” With her next step, I straighten and add tension to my shoulders, which makes her pause. “I know you don’t want to see me, but I thought you should have some company.”
Does she not hear the contradiction in her words? I look at Donovan again, as much to see if she’s thinking the same thing I am as to drive Brenda a little crazy. Though Donovan’s expression is mostly muted, one of her eyebrows lifts ever so slightly.
“Derek,” Brenda says, pulling my attention back to her. “Could we talk?” Her eyes flick to Donovan with a flash of irritation. “Maybe in private?”
I sigh, keeping it subtle and making it look like I’m struggling to keep my expression neutral. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. It’s been a long couple of days, and I’m kind of in the middle of something.” I glance at Donovan again when I say that last part and give her a tentative smile.
Donovan matches my smile as she pulls her hair over one shoulder and starts braiding. It’s a thing she does when she’s nervous, but I’m not catching any real anxiety in her gaze, which keeps me calm.
Brenda breathes out sharply. “Derek, please. I only need a minute, then you can decide if you really want to be spending time with Miss Tate.”
Perfect.I stiffen and snap my gaze back to my mom. “How do you know her name?”
Brenda’s eyebrows rise a fraction of an inch, but her surprise only lasts for a moment before she replaces it with what I assume is supposed to be concern but looks more like pity. “She’s not who you think she is, sweetie.”
“Excuse me?” Donovan stands and folds her arms, and I can’t help but wonder how much of her indignation is real. “You don’t know anything about me.”
Scoffing, Brenda turns to Janie, who flinches as she looks from me to my mom. “Have you shown him the story?”
“Not yet,” Janie says weakly, which is technically true. I’m glad she doesn’t have to lie. It would have been easier not to include her in this nonsense, but I’m sure my mom would be more cautious if she thought I might suspect Janie’s involvement. Having Janie here means I still trust her.
“Show him,” Brenda directs.
“She doesn’t work for you,” I argue with very real irritation in my voice. Still, she’s setting things up perfectly, so I hold my hand out to Janie and ask, “Show me what?”
In order to hand me her phone, Janie has to pass Donovan, and Donovan’s expression turns to horror when her eyes catch whatever’s on the screen. “Derek,” she says in alarm. “Wait!”
I ignore her, also ignoring the temptation to grin at her because she almost has me convinced that I’m going to find something I haven’t seen yet. But the open article on Janie’s phone is the same one Donovan and I read together just a few minutes ago. Now that I’m not reading it with fear at the forefront of my mind, I see what Donovan was talking about when she called it trash. It’s obvious someone atHot Scoopisn’t thrilled to have posted something so blatantly wrong. I skim through a few of the comments while I’m at it, pleased to see plenty of skepticism and even someone stating how different the tone is from the website’s usual posts.
“Derek,” Donovan says when I’ve had sufficient time to read.
“Is it true?” I hold the phone up to her. She’s too far to read it from here, but she pretends to stare at the headline like it’s a ghost come to haunt her. “Are you Nova Tate?” I don’t give her a chance to answerbefore I scoff and shake my head. “DonovanTate. It was right in front of me the whole time.”
“I can explain.”
“Explain how you’ve been lying to me since the day we met?”
Her eyes narrow. “I never lied.”
“You just withheld the truth,” Brenda throws in.
