Page 26 of The Addendum

“Addi’s was pretty normal.”

Aiden laughed. “Except for the whole Jaxson thing.”

We all chuckled.

“Weddings have changed. It used to be they were all the same,” Katy pointed out. “Our kids keep us guessing.”

“Besides, I don’t think we can exactly claim to have had traditional weddings ourselves,” Maddox pointed out. “Bentley’s was the closest to normal, I think.”

“Bentley is always traditional,” Aiden agreed.

“Nothing wrong with tradition,” Bentley stated, lifting his glass. “This one has served us well.”

We all lifted our glasses with him.

“To my daughter and her new husband. Another one done,” I said.

“To awesome, untraditional weddings,” Maddox replied.

With a sigh, I sat back, feeling reflective. It had been great. Seeing my daughter happy and married. Spending time with our extended family. Laughing and sharing the joy of the day. It had all been good—except for the unsolved issue of Ashley.

As if I had summoned her, the patio door opened and she walked out on the deck, clutching a small bag. She was alone, which surprised me. She had changed and now wore a pair of loose slacks and a sweatshirt. Without makeup and the heels, she looked younger, more vulnerable. I met her gaze, seeing the determination in it, and for some reason, my stomach dropped.

She approached the table, stopping just shy of me.

“Mr. VanRyan, may I speak with you in private?”

I shook my head, setting down my cigar. “No, you may not.”

She looked startled. “I beg your pardon?”

“Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of these people. They are my family, and I have no secrets from them.”

For a moment, there was silence, the tension in the air building.

“I was raised by a single mother,” she said, her eyes locked on me.

I nodded, unsure where this was going.

“She refused to tell me about my father. The only thing she said was that he was a narcissistic, unfeeling, selfish asshole she never wanted me subjected to. She also said he wouldn’t have anything to do with me anyway.”

A buzz started somewhere in my head. I shook it slightly to clear it.

“And?” I prompted.

“My mom died six years ago. She never told me who my father was.”

“I’m sorry,” I said automatically. Katy slipped her hand into mine, and I squeezed it, feeling the dampness of her palm. “But what does that have to do with me?”

“My birth certificate states father’s name as unknown. But my mother knew who you were.”

The words echoed in my head. “Who I was?” I repeated, my heartbeat picking up.

“Does the name Juliet Brennan mean anything to you?”

Brennan.

A memory stirred. Faint. Distant. But it was elusive, and I couldn’t grasp it. Beside me, Katy gasped, the sound low and shocked.