Page 195 of Mad Girl

“I’ve just been”—he paused, stared past me, narrowed his gaze—“looking into her a little bit.”

“Is she married?”

Nic shook his head. “Divorced.”

“Kids?”

“No kids.”

“How do you know?”

“She told me.”

“Holy crap. You talked to her?”

“It wasn’t like that. She recognized me at the gallery, so she came over to say hi. We talked for a while, but I didn’t say a word about Casey. I swear.” He bumped my shoulder. “She asked to see a picture of you when I told her I had a daughter. She couldn’t believe how much you look like your mom.”

“What about her?” I asked. For once, I didn’t want to ruin the moment by asking about my mom. I wanted more info on yours. “What did she look like?”

“Honestly? Not much different than she did twenty years ago. She looked good.” He paused a moment, lost in thought. “God, just talking to her—I saw so many glimpses of Casey. It was wild.”

“Did she ask about John?”

“She did, but she already knew a lot about his career. I guess she’s been keeping up with him all these years.” At this, my dad’s jaw twitched. He stared past me for a while, pensive.

“But Casey asked you not to find her. Why’d you do it, anyway?”

“Because I need to know what I’m dealing with if Casey decides he wants to meet her someday. I’ll have to let Cassandra know she isn’t allowed anywhere near Casey unless she plans on making it a pleasant experience for him. I have to be sure. I promised Claire I wouldn’t let either of his biological parents hurt him.”

“That’s sweet, Dad,” I said, tearing up. “But it’s still creepy that you stalked her.”

“I didn’t stalk her. I just—I needed to see her for myself. Otherwise, I would’ve had my guy check her out.”

“You have a guy?” Why any of this surprised me, I still don’t know.

“Of course I have a guy.” He paused, eyes twinkling. “How amazing was it, though, when Casey walked in there and went straight to her art? He was drawn to it.”

“Yeah,” I whispered. “Pretty amazing. But—wait—the artist’s name was Annette Sterling. Not Cassandra.”

“Cassandra goes by many names. At the bar where she worked with your mom, she went by Casey. To John, she was Cassandra. To the art world, in the beginning, she went by Sandra Sterling. Annette is a borrowed name—her mother’s name.”

“Oh my God,” I breathed. Sandra Sterling. SS. “The painting in John’s study. That’s hers.”

“Yeah.”

“And you knew?”

“Not until recently, no. I knew he had a fling with her that one summer, but I didn’t know she was an artist until I started looking into her.”

“Did you know he’d gotten her pregnant?”

Nic shook his head. “He never told me. I’m not sure he ever knew she was pregnant himself—and I can’t ask him. If I ask about her now, or even hint at a pregnancy, he’ll want to know why. So I’m keeping quiet about it.”

“But, Dad, I sent John pictures from the art gallery that day. I thought he’d be interested to see how similar her artwork was to the painting in his study. I didn’t realize…”

“That’s okay. I’m sure he figured out it was her, but he hasn’t said anything.”

“You don’t think it’s odd? That he has one of her paintings displayed so prominently in his house? Seems like Cassandra meant more to him than he let on at breakfast that day.”