“I saw it and couldn’t believe you baked that yourself.”
Pride puffs out my chest. “It’s my first time baking a novelty cake, but I wanted to go all out for Beck. Keeping it a secret was hard, but he was totally surprised and delighted when I showed it to him earlier.”
I baked a two-tier cake with one chocolate layer and one red velvet layer. Covered in white fondant icing, it has blue piping around the edges, and I molded all the objects on top from icing. It was painstaking work to craft a man sitting at a desk, an ink and a quill, and several books with the titles of Beck’s books on the front. It took hours and hours of practice, but I’m really pleased with the result. The look on his face made all the effort worthwhile.
Hudson scrutinizes my face, and I raise my fingers to my skin, suddenly self-conscious. “What? Do I have something on my face?”
“No, you’re as pretty as a picture.” He clears his throat, looking a little awkward. “I want to say something. You don’t need to reply. I just want to put this out there, and it’s up to you what you do with it.”
My brow puckers. “Okay.” He’s acting a bit weird.
“It’s okay to love him, Stevie. I’m not saying you do or don’t, but if Beck is the reason you wear a smile on your face again, and if you have feelings for him, there is nothing wrong with it. It’s not wrong to love him. It’s not wrong to move on.”
* * *
“Oh my god.” My heart leaps to my throat as I clamp a hand over my mouth and stare at the screen in shock.
“What’s wrong?” Beck is instantly on his feet, walking over to where I’m seated at my desk. He surprised me with my own desk and chair in his office a few weeks after he revealed the poppy bedroom, saying he wanted me to have a proper place to work on my artwork. He is always so considerate.
“Look.” I angle my screen so he can see. “The DNA site found a new match.”
“Holy shit.” He crouches down beside me, blinking furiously as he quickly reads the report. Beck laces his fingers in mine and smiles. “You have an uncle.”
“I do.” Tears stream down my face. “And he wants to meet.” I click out of the report and open up the message inbox, showing him the message that greeted me when I logged in. It was sent a week ago, and I missed the email notification. I don’t check the system that often, having given up on ever finding anything. “I’m going to find out about my dad. I’m finally going to know.”
* * *
“I feel ill,” Mom says as Beck kills the engine of the rental in front of the small restaurant facing the beach at Siesta Key in Florida where we have agreed to meet my dad’s family.
“I know the feeling,” I murmur as knots churn in my gut.
“It’s natural to feel nervous. This is a big deal.” Beck unfurls my knotted fingers, rubbing at the tension he finds there. “Just take a few minutes to compose yourselves. You have both waited over twenty-two years to find out what happened to Liam; you can wait a few minutes longer.”
In the two weeks since I read the message from Sean—my father’s brother—we have been trading emails back and forth. Beck was beside me when I had my first call with my uncle, and he held me together when Sean revealed the sad truth. Beck came with me to tell Mom, and she broke down in tears when I told her Liam was dead.
I don’t know the circumstances yet. It’s one of the reasons we flew on the Colbert private jet to Florida, but Sean was forthright in telling me over the phone that my father wasn’t alive. He didn’t want to mislead me. All I know is his family wasn’t aware he had a daughter, and they were totally shocked by the DNA findings.
“Come on, missy.” Mom squeezes my shoulders from the back seat. “The Colson women are made of tough stuff. We don’t cower in cars. We came for the truth; now let’s go get it.” It’s sad Nana couldn’t come with us, but she came down with some bug, and she wasn’t feeling up to traveling.
Beck opens Mom’s door before helping me out of the car. I almost face-plant on the ground, but Beck catches me and steadies me. “Shit.” I laugh, and it comes out sounding high-pitched and borderline hysterical. “I think I’ve lost the use of my legs.”
“I’ve got you.” Beck slides his arm around my shoulders. “Just hold on to me.” I drape one arm around his waist as we follow Mom into the restaurant.
She gasps before holding a trembling hand to her mouth as a tall man with a lean muscular build advances toward us with obvious emotion on his face.
Beck holds me a little tighter as I stare at my uncle with a lump in my throat. He has auburn hair, like me, except his is much darker. Navy-blue eyes glistening with tears latch on to Mom and then me.
“My god,” he whispers, “you look so much like him.”
“You look like him too,” Mom chokes out. “His image has long since faded in my memory, but watching you walk toward us was like seeing a ghost.”
Sean’s gaze bounces between Mom and me. “Forgive my bad manners. I’m Sean.” He thrusts out his hand, shaking Mom’s hand first, then mine, and then Beck’s.
“I’m Beck. We spoke on the phone.”
“I remember.” Sean nods respectfully. “Thanks for bringing Stevie and Monica. This is a big day for our family.”
“This feels surreal,” Mom says.
