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He grimaces in remorse. “Two weeks ago.”
“You’ve known this shit for two weeks and you didn’t think to fucking tell me, Hayes?” Surprise and a sense of being betrayed make me take a step back. I peer at him, trying to see how I missed that he’d been keeping something like this from me for so long.
His face twists up, too and he glances around. “Let’s go talk somewhere else.” He turns without waiting for me to respond and opens a door a few feet away. I follow him inside the room.
“She wasn’t sure you didn’t already know. I wasn’t sure either. And the last couple of weeks have been a total nightmare.”
“None of that shit can be true. How the fuck can it be true. Things like that don’t happen. That would mean we are brothers, Hayes.” I look at him like he’s lost his mind.
He looks back at me with patient sympathy.
I shake my head in denial. “My father died. I have pictures from his funeral. How could they have held a funeral if he wasn’t dead, man?”
Hayes doesn’t respond. He just watches me, like he’s waiting for me to answer my own question.
“What?” I snap.
“Have you seen his death certificate?”
“Why the hell would I have seen his death certificate. Have you seen your father’s?” I challenge him.
He only shrugs.
“I was in the room with my father when he died. You weren’t even old enough to remember what yours looked like, much less exactly when he died,” he says, that patient sympathy still in place.
The knot forming in my gut intensifies, and I lean back against the door and stare at the ceiling as I think about the pictures from my father’s funeral.
I was only two. I don’t remember anything. But how could my mother and grandfather have told such a lie? My grandfather, before he died, had been my mentor and my best friend. We talked about my father all the time. He couldn’t have looked me in the face and lied the way he did. I clutch the doorknob and my sweaty palms slip off it. My heart is racing faster than I thought possible.
What else have they lied about?
“Remi.”
I open my eyes and find Hayes watching me, his lips pursed, his eyes full of sympathy. “I know. It’s a total head job. I’ve only had a couple of weeks to process it. If this hadn’t happened, I still wouldn’t be speaking to Gigi. It’s fucked me up. I’ve spent my whole life thinking my father was someone else, too. On top of that, the woman who I’ve thought of as my aunt is really my mother. The man who I’ve come to think of as one of my best friends is actually my half-brother.”
Each of his statements hit me hard. I can’t wrap my head around any of that. “Why should we believe them now? What if this is a lie?” I say and even to my own ears, it sounds like a wish, rather than an accusation.
“We both know it’s not,” he says, his voice grave and hushed.
I stare at him for a beat letting myself imagine that everything they’re saying is true. I drop a wall in front of the wave of panic that is starting to build in my gut.
Not now.
“There’s something wrong here.” I push back.
He nods, but he doesn’t back down. “There’s plenty wrong. Especially on your side of things. But, it’s not a lie. Go ask your mother. When you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here.” Then, he steps around me, opens the room door and walks out.
I pull out my phone and call my assistant. “Rachel, I’m on my way to Wilde House, meet me there.”
“Yes, sir. I’m on my way,” she says without missing a beat.
“Before you leave, visit legal and ask them to print you a copy of my father’s death certificate.”
I’m met with silence.
“I know it’s an odd request. But I need you to get it. Right now. Do you understand?”
“Ye-Yes, sir. I do.” She sounds uncertain, but I know she’ll get it the minute we hang up.
