“Mom.”
She patted me on the shoulder. “Come have dinner.”
As we sat out on the terrace and ate the baked fish that had been prepared, I actually started to relax. Beowulf ran through the garden, and Brea was charming my parents with stories of crazy wedding shenanigans.
In the car later, I kissed her. “This actually didn’t turn out so bad.”
Brea ran her fingers through my hair.
I want to be with you forever.
“Come home with me,” I murmured against her mouth.
Brea’s phone buzzed, and she reached to silence it. But then she read the message, and her face fell as if she was going to vomit.
“I um...I have to go home. There’s something I have to deal with.”
42
Brea
Iwas shaking in the dark as Mark drove us back to Manhattan. Memphis Eve had sent me the DNA paternity test results, but I couldn’t open the message in front of Mark. I needed to be alone. Because I knew if it was bad news, I would start sobbing, and Mark had seemed so happy and relaxed after meeting with his parents. I didn’t want to ruin his evening.
“Beau has to be my dad. He has to be,” I whispered as I climbed up the stairs.
“How were his parents? Did they like the wine?” my dad asked when I returned.
“Yep. Sorry, have to deal with a bride,” I lied. “I’ll give you a full rundown of the evening tomorrow, promise!”
Then I shut and locked my door. Hands trembling, I opened the attachment on the text message Memphis Eve had sent me. Then the tears started. I clapped a hand over my mouth. Beau was not my father. There was no match.
Brea:This can’t be right.
Memphis Eve:The DNA test doesn’t lie.
Memphis Eve:Now pull yourself up. We need to find who our real father is.
Brea:Mom didn’t talk to me when I asked her.
Memphis Eve:You didn’t try hard enough. Just forget about it. I’ll do it myself.
I felt sick. I couldn’t sleep that night, and I couldn’t bear to face my parents.
Beau was happy the next morning as he set a plate of food in front of me. How was I going to tell him? He would be heartbroken. I fretted as I crunched on the dry toast. Even my usual coffee tasted like dust.
Maybe it will be fine?I told myself on the way to the Weddings in the City office.
Maybe they already know.I had to put it out of my mind. There was a wedding to plan.
* * *
The smellof Elsie’s catering hit me as soon as I stepped off the elevator and into our office. Food therapy was just what I needed to feel better.
“Since I’m in the wedding party, does that mean I get to eat everything?” I asked in excitement. Usually Elsie let me have leftovers, but that was after the wedding party and bridal entourage had tasted everything first.
Emotional eating was my go-to form of self-care. It was too bad Sophie wasn’t doing cake testing that day, because I could really have used some coffee and wedding cake. Still, sampling Elsie’s cooking was a close second on my list of favorite pastimes. I grabbed a plate.
“Brea, you need to wait for everyone else,” Elsie admonished.
