She frowned. “Why not?”
“Because it’s only two days from now. Going to dinner with him on Monday denotes an eagerness you don’t feel,” her mom said.
“I’m not uneager,” Abby said defensively.
“You’re ambivalent at best.”
Abby groaned and rubbed her fingers across her forehead. She hated when her mom was insightful and right. “He’s a genuinely nice guy. Smart, attractive, talked well about his ex. Why wasn’t there a spark?”
Alan had everything that should have attracted her to him, but there was no tingle. No whoosh. No flight of butterflies in her stomach.
Her mom patted her arm. “You’re not a spark plug, sweetie—it’s not going to happen with everyone. No matter how perfect they seem.”
Abby put the car in park and shut off the engine. In the rearview mirror, she could see Will had fallen asleep. Naps were hit or miss recently, but an afternoon at the aquarium usually tired him out. The trick now was to get him out of the car, into the house, and into his bed without waking him up.
She managed the first part and was attempting the second, trying to isolate the house key without dropping the entire ring.
“Excuse me.”
Abby turned and found a young girl standing behind her. She looked familiar—probably one of the neighbor kids selling something for a school fundraiser.
“Hi. Can you come back later this afternoon?” she asked in a hushed tone.
The girl stepped closer. “Are you Abigail Day?”
That got her attention. “Why are you asking?”
“I’m Anthony Messina’s daughter.”
Abby’s mind blanked. “Tony doesn’t have a daughter.”
“He does.” She shrugged her shoulders and toed a pebble. “He just doesn’t admit it to anyone.”
Abby struggled for breath. Will was getting heavy and sweat beaded at the base of her spine. She couldn’t come up with a single reason why a girl claiming to be her ex’s daughter would be on her doorstep.
“Why are you here?”
“I need your help.”
Abby pulled Will’s door closed but left it cracked. She’d managed the third part of getting him out of the car, despite her pounding heart.
Tony had a daughter she knew nothing about. They’d been together three years, and he’d never breathed a word about her existence. He’d gone out of his way to make sure Abby understood they would be child-free, and the whole time he had a living, breathing child he’d never even mentioned.
She clenched her fists. That. Asshole.
Taking a steady breath, she shook her hands and went back to the living room.
The girl sat on the edge of the couch with a glass of water. She raised it. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“No.” Abby sat on the love seat perpendicular to the couch. “What’s your name?”
“Olivia. Livie.”
“Olivia Messina?”
She shook her head. “Holder. My mom changed my name when her and Tony divorced.”
“How old are you?
