“He’s really never said a word before?” I asked as my legs carried me in the direction Rule wanted me to go even as I twisted to see behind me, wanting to know if Jinx was all right.
“Not since I’ve known him.”
“And you’ve known him for how long?”
“More than twenty years.”
When we reached the living room, I stopped to look back down the hall. “Will he be okay?”
“Eventually.”
“What’s he doing in there?”
“Probably having a panic attack.”
I spun around to face him. “Shouldn’t we go in there?”
“Waldo’s with him.”
“A dog?”
“Yes. Trust me, it helps. I don’t know how, but it does. Do you want something to drink?”
“Maybe,” I told him.
“What would you like?”
“I guess that depends on what you plan to tell me.”
He exhaled heavily, his shoulders falling with what looked a lot like defeat.
“I’ll take wine,” I said before walking outside.
It was a nice afternoon. Not hot, not cold. One of those days that made me glad I lived in California.
And while the sun was shining and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, it felt gloomy in a sense. Was that the weight of betrayal casting a haze over my existence?
When I first found that DNA test, I chalked it up to them wanting to help me. Yeah, I felt betrayed, but during the Uber ride to the house, I had almost convinced myself that it was okay. After all, I had admitted to Rule that I wondered who my father was and that I’d even asked my mother. Uncovering that detail could be his way of showing me he cared. Based on the test results, Rule knew who my father was, although I never did find a name on the test, so I was still in the dark.
But then I had time to think about it when I got home. To let the realization fester until I was so angry at him for not telling me about it that I was right back where I was when I found the test in his office. Seeing him had pissed me off more. But him walking out … saying he was done … that took the fucking cake.
Yet, I’d still been willing to hear him out. If and when he returned.
However, seeing those paintings on Jinx’s wall … that had changed everything.
I thought it was a coincidence that I’d encountered Rule again. That him showing up to help Monica out of a jam was just one of those glitches in the matrix. Maybe the timing was happenstance since I doubted my mother intended to actually kill that couple, but now I knew his presence in my life wasn’t. Those paintings proved it.
And this was a case of which came first: The chicken (Rule sneaking off with my DNA to find out who my dad was) or the egg (Jinx getting those paintings from the gallery that had commissioned them)? And did it matter? Obviously, they knew something I didn’t, and I felt like the world’s biggest idiot.
Rule came outside carrying a tumbler of clear liquid and a glass of wine. He passed the wine to me and took a sip of the other drink. I knew it wasn’t vodka because there wasn’t any hard liquor in this house. He didn’t drink. However, I couldn’t help but think he’d somehow convinced his brain that a glass of Sprite with ice cubes and a lime worked the same.
He perched on the arm of the sofa and stared out at the swimming pool.
“Did you marry me under false pretenses?” I asked when it was clear he wasn’t going to talk first.
“Yes.” He didn’t hesitate, there was no prevarication, no pause for him to collect his thoughts.
For the first time since I met him, I wasn’t sure I appreciated his brutal honesty because, like it or not, that answer hurt. I felt a pang in my chest.
