Dad almost chokes on his food. Hera slaps him on the back before refilling his water glass and handing it to him with concern written all over her face.
“Are you okay, Dad?” I ask, already knowing he isn’t.
“Yes, sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” He fixes me with another frail smile I’m not buying.
“Do you know Bree or something?”
“I know the Stewart family. I know who Breanna is.”
I quirk a brow in silent question.
“Are you aware Richard is related to Breanna and Jason?”
I frown again. “I know Mom’s new husband is part of the extended family, but it’s large and I thought he was only distantly related. Are you saying that isn’t the case?”
Stewart is a popular name around these parts, so I didn’t think anything of them having the same name. Mom and Richard got married at a registry office in Switzerland and they didn’t have a wedding, so it’s not like I have had the opportunity to meet any of my stepfather’s family.
I’m not even sure how it’s relevant. So what if Richard is related to Bree and Jase?
“Richard is Eric’s—Bree and Jason’s dad—youngest brother. There were seven sons, and they’ve all had big families so it’s a lot to keep track of.”
“It’s great you’re making new friends,” Hera says, urging everyone to continue eating. “What about you, Ares? How are you getting on with your new workmates?”
Is it just me or did my stepmom purposely redirect the conversation?
“Fine. A few of them came to the party last night.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot my dad giving Ares the stink eye. What’s that all about?
“Oh, while I think of it,” Hera says, cutting up her vegetables into small pieces. “Your mom sent me some cute photos of you with Emilie. I printed a couple of them out. I thought you might like to frame them.”
“That was thoughtful, thanks. I bet she’s getting really big already.” I love my adorable little baby sister but hate that we live on different continents.
When I was younger, I used to pray to God to give me a sister or brother, but he never made that dream come true. Of course, now I know my parents weren’t ever in love and their marriage was some sort of arrangement, it makes sense. While they have both denied it, I’m guessing I was an accident and they felt obligated to marry and raise me.
Now I have a sibling, but I’ll never get to see her. Not unless Mom and Richard return to California. It doesn’t seem like it’s in the cards, but I can hope.
“I love the baby stage, but they grow so fast,” Hera says before the most heartbreaking expression crests over her face. It’s gone so fast I almost wonder if I imagined it.
Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I clear my throat and ask my question. “How come you never had other kids?”
“Ashley.” Dad’s fork clatters to the table as his eyes warn me to drop it.
“What? Am I not allowed to ask that?”
“Most would say it’s an extremely rude and invasive question,” Ares snaps, glowering at me.
“It’s a natural question to ask, and Hera knows I meant no malice.”
“It’s fine, Ares.” Hera knots her hands on top of the table, and tension bleeds into the air. “Ashley is my daughter, and it’s not an unusual question.” She smiles softly at me as Dad places his hand on her thigh under the table.
Ares growls at me, and I hold his gaze with a challenge, wondering what I’m not privy to.
Because it’s clear all three of them know something they’re not telling me.
Which really fucking hurts.
“I had a daughter,” Hera says, speaking so quietly I barely hear her. “She died,” she adds as tears well in her eyes.
