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“Jordan has told all of us that he doesn’t know what’s true yet.”
Sera shrugged again. “Well, best of luck to him.”
Marisa looked worried. “Oh, Sera, I know you care.”
“Do you?”
“I thought, especially at the wedding, that there was a special spark between you and Jordan.” Marisa searched her expression again. “Was I wrong?”
“Does it matter now? The only thing that does is that I was a fool. Again.”
“Because Jordan may have a child?”
“Because he didn’t tell me!” Sera waved a hand. “Like a certain lying ex-boyfriend. I seem to have a special gift for ferreting out impostors.”
“Oh, I don’t know, the feelings between you seemed very real to me.”
As another customer turned into their aisle, they moved apart.
“I need to go,” Sera said quickly. “Before someone recognizes me from the news.”
“I’m here if you need me.”
Sera just nodded as she moved down the aisle, but she mulled over Marisa’s words.
Feelings. The magic word. First Bernice, now her cousin. She was hoping these feelings would go away soon. Far, far away.
* * *
Fool. Sera had called herself the dirty word more times than she could count in the past few days. What kind of pushover got taken for a ride twice by men singing the same tune? Would she ever learn?
She’d taken to the gym with a vengeance. Pilates, yoga, kickboxing, two-mile runs. There was no hurdle that she wouldn’t surmount. But she couldn’t overcome her fury. Okay, her pain.
Damn it.
And now she was facing Sunday dinner with her family at her mother’s house. Not showing up wasn’t an option. Her family would just take her absence as confirmation that something was amiss—and perhaps wonder and worry more than they already were. She had to face reality, and the sooner the better.
After serving the spaghetti and meatballs, her mother eyed her speculatively. “I heard the most outrageous story this week. I knew it couldn’t possibly be true.”
“Hmm.” Sera didn’t look up from her plate.
“Something about you and Jordan Serenghetti being an item,” her mother went on. “I told my hairdresser th
at the press must have snapped you together because of some invite from your cousin Marisa. You’re related by marriage these days, after all.”
Yup, and bound to stay that way. It was a gloomy prospect. She was destined to see Jordan again and again. Some traitorous part of her longed to see him again—still—but at the same time, she knew it would be unbearable to maintain a brave front.
“So am I right?” her mother asked brightly, glancing from her to a studiously silent Dante, who’d arrived for the family meal only minutes before.
“It wasn’t an event that Marisa was hosting,” Sera mumbled.
“And then Natalie—that’s my hairdresser—also said she’d heard that Jordan had fathered a child with some woman recently.” Rosana Perini heaved a sigh. “Honestly, Natalie hears the worst gossip.”
Sera’s face grew hot. “Yes, I heard the same story.”
Her mother paused and blinked. “You did?”
Sera played with her food. “The photographer who trailed me and Jordan to the movie theater mentioned it.”
