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“How long have you known?” I asked.

His eyes grew wet almost instantly and he quickly looked away. “Since the day you were born,” he said. He pinched his forehead again and blew out a sigh. “My mother, of all people, told me. I went to the hospital and saw you …” He got this faraway look in his eye. “You were so tiny. Tinier than Noelle had ever been.” He paused for a fond, private laugh, then sighed once more. “I told your mother I would help her, that I would be involved in any way she wanted me to be. She thanked me and promptly told me to go away. She wanted your dad, to be your … well, your dad.”

“And you were fine with that?” I blurted out, surprising even myself.

“No, actually, I wasn’t,” he said. “But it wasn’t up to me.”

“What about your wife? Does she know?” I asked.

There was a pained look in his eyes. “She does. I told her when I found out. We dealt with it.” He took a deep breath and blew it out. “Can’t say she was overly excited when you came into Noelle’s life,” he said, shooting me an apologetic look. “I can only imagine you noticed her somewhat … cool demeanor in St. Barths.”

I nodded slowly. At the time I’d thought Noelle’s mom was never around because she was flighty and eccentric, but she was just avoiding me.

“So until the day I was born you never knew my mom was pregnant with your …” I swallowed. “How did your mother know?”

He gave a rueful laugh. “That woman, like her mother before her, has always kept an almost obsessive eye on the old families—the Williamses, the Billingses, and whatnot,” he said. “She probably somehow knew about you before your mother did.”

I gave a small smile.

“Anyway, I just wanted you to know … I don’t know …,” Mr. Lange said. “I suppose I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable around me.”

I looked him in the eye. “I’m not,” I said, only realizing it was true as I said it. Suddenly I was glad he’d made me stay behind. “Thanks, Mr. Lange.”

His eyes shone as he gave a tight, hopeful smile. “Anytime.”

Everyone in the restaurant was staring at us. Not that I could blame them. It was a boring, cloudy Thursday afternoon, and with two huge bodyguards hovering at our table, their backs to the window, blocking the view of Park Avenue for the rest of the diners, we were conspicuous enough to draw interest. One girl at a nearby booth kept holding up her cell phone at odd angles, ostensibly trying to get a signal, when she was obviously trying to get a photo of Noelle. She probably figured she was famous and wanted to zap her pic off to Page Six. Noelle had clearly noticed and was playing her role perfectly, wearing her huge, dark sunglasses at the table, even though we were inside.

Sucker.

“Hey, guys,” a female voice said.

Goran and Sam, our two escorts for the day, took a menacing step toward Ivy as she swung her bag to the floor next to the empty chair at our table.

“She’s cool, guys,” Noelle said, holding up a hand. They instantly backed off, like a pair of dogs on a leash.

“Hey, Ivy,” I said with a weak smile.

It was good to see her, good to be out, good to at least be pretending that everything was normal. Or as normal as it could be, with a former NFL linebacker breathing down my neck, supposedly trying to make me feel safe. Of course, the man’s neck was as thick as a tree trunk, so my guess was no one was about to mess with him.

“Sorry I’m late,” Ivy said, scooting her chair closer to the table.

“You should be,” Noelle said flatly. She touched each of her pieces of silverware, straightening them on the table. “You’re the one who called this little meeting.”

We both glared at her. Noelle lifted her shoulders. “What?”

I rolled my eyes and turned my attention to Ivy. “So? What’s up?”

She waited for the waiter to lean past her shoulder and fill her water glass.

“Do you need a few minutes?” he asked, his tone clipped.

“Please,” Ivy said politely, casting a glance at the closed menu atop her china plate. He gave a nod and hurried off.

“I’ve been thinking,” Ivy said, placing her elbows on the table and clasping her hands. She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a whisper. “We should get the rest of the girls together and do the incantation before your party.”

“Check, please!” Noelle said, raising a finger and starting up from her chair.

“Noelle!” I hissed as the waiter glanced over, confused, from a nearby table. “We haven’t even ordered yet!”

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