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No, I didn’t really think so, but I’d hoped.
“All right,” I said with a nod.
I found Hollin and told him I’d be out until lunch. He didn’t seem happy about it, but I couldn’t tell him the real reason. Not without a conversation I didn’t want to have.
Jordan and I piled into his truck, and we headed north to our mom’s house.
She opened the front door with a wide smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Both my boys home at one time.”
We followed her inside. Jordan shot me a look, and I gestured to him. He was the one who always took point. Except at the vineyard, where I was now the point man, and I still found that strange.
“We actually need to talk to you,” Jordan said.
My mom sighed and offered us seats. “You can always talk to me. What’s this about?”
I sat on the couch while Jordan remained standing. I looked at my mom with a frown. We’d just barged in here, but I hadn’t heard from her about her chemo treatments. When I asked, she’d blow me off. As if I hadn’t given up my career be there with her through all of them in the past. She continued to stress that everything was going fine.
Except she didn’t look fine. She looked fragile. Her head was covered by a head scarf. Her skin sagged. Some of her glow was gone. Even with her vibrant smile. I wondered if maybe we shouldn’t do this to her.
But before I could say anything, Jordan pressed forward. “We received an email from a Weston Wright, claiming to be our half-brother.”
Mom’s eyes widened. “What?”
“He said that he lives in Seattle, is twenty-two, and that our dad is his dad. Did you know about that?”
“That’s absurd. What proof does he have of this?”
“None,” I said. “Or at least, he didn’t offer any in his email.”
“It was around the time when you and dad were split up,” Jordan pushed.
“That’s true, but he never dated seriously while we were apart.”
“He wouldn’t have had to date seriously to have a kid.”
“Jor,” I muttered as Mom’s face paled further.
“You’re right, of course,” she said softly. “But…he would have told me.”
“What if he doesn’t know?” I offered.
She shrugged her thin shoulders. “I really don’t know, but I have no knowledge of this. Are you going to speak to your father?”
Jordan nodded. “Yeah, he’s in town this weekend.”
“Good. I’d talk to him before you decide what to do about this Weston. You’ll want to know the truth from your dad’s mouth before making a decision.”
“What if he doesn’t tell us the truth?” I asked.
My mom sent me a pitying look. “He wouldn’t lie to you about this. What would he gain?”
I never knew the answer to that question. But I sure hoped that she was right. And that all of this would be resolved on Saturday.
29
Julian
.
It’s going to be fine. Text me when you’re done.
I checked Jennifer’s text and forced a smile. She was downtown with her parents at the Fourth of July festival. I’d been invited by her parents, who were none the wiser that we’d ever been fake dating, but I had to deal with my dad first and foremost.
Not that I was looking forward to it.
Just got to the course. Hopefully this doesn’t take long, and I can still make the festival.
Fried food, carnival rides, and a parade, oh my! But really, you’re not missing anything. Good luck with your dad!
Luck was something I was sorely in need of. Jordan and I had planned how to take this, but I had a feeling that as soon as I saw my dad, I was going to blow up. We’d waited days to have this meeting. Left the email unanswered for so long. Would it even make sense to respond to Weston’s message after this? I was jittery with unspent energy and ready to get it over with.
I pulled up to the country-club entrance in my Audi. Jordan’s truck was already parked out front. He was leaning against the bed of the truck. Our father wasn’t here yet. Big surprise.
I parked next to him. “No sign of Dad?”
He shook his head. “He said he was on his way.”
“Typical.”
Jordan’s face gave away nothing. I hadn’t been able to get a read on him since we talked to Mom. Was he worried? Mad? Had he had it out with Annie, and that was why everything was fine? I’d talked to Jennifer about it, of course, but I couldn’t get over the fact that Dad had done this. He’d done this to us. And I still didn’t even know if it was true.
“Any luck on looking him up?” I asked.
Jordan shook his head. “There are a few dozen Weston Wrights online but none in Seattle. I didn’t get any hits anywhere on social media. He said he was a musician, but I didn’t find anyone with that name. And when I Googled, all that pulls up is some football player. Either he’s lying or he’s not on social media. I don’t know.”
