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Her jaw dropped.
“What is it?” Sydney, who’d had her boys a few weeks ago, switched chairs with Tayler.
The boys were born premature and still at the hospital, so they’d let her know she could skip the wedding. Yet, she and Dmitri insisted on attending and planned to fly out right after. In the meantime, their families were with the boys, Dominik and Makari.
Ayesha started laughing so much that Sydney had to take the folder before she dropped it. The tears finally spilled from her eyes, but nothing was sorrowful about them.
“It’s…Curtis’ DNA.” Ayesha, gasping for a breath, steadied herself with a hand on Sydney’s forearm. “His and his grandmother’s.”
Sydney scanned the paper. “I don’t understand.”
“So, I never told you guys this, but Curtis’ family doesn’t accept Theo.”
“Then fuck them,” Xara spat. “Why don’t they accept Theo?”
“They claim he’s not Curtis’ son.”
Xara cocked her head to the side, brow raised. “Like I said…fuck them. Our puka’s got us. He’s good.”
Ayesha smiled. “But this DNA test proves that Curtis isn’t his grandmother’s biological grandson. Okay, so there was a rumor in his family that his grandmother, as beautiful as she was, had to beat suitors off with a stick. According to a few of his great aunts, she didn’t exactly beat them all off. They believed she lied about the paternity of some of her kids because, to quote Curtis, ‘They always said the timing was off.’ Here she is, claiming that myhusbandisn’t the father of our child when she’s been keeping secrets of her own.”
Sydney flipped the paper over and laughed. “There’s a note on this one too. It says, ‘I sent them a copy, and I let them know not to fuck with you anymore, or I can do worse.’”
Ayesha wrapped her arms around her body and squeezed. She was married to Joel. She’d been married to Joel for months. Yet, she couldn’t wait to walk down the aisle to him.
Larke and Sydney switched.
While Larke opened the gift box, Ayesha laid her head on Larke’s shoulder. Inside were a pair of gold and diamond stud earrings in the shape of olive branches.
Larke handed her the box, retrieved the note that had been folded inside, parted her lips, but then snapped her mouth shut.
“Eesh?”
Larke held the note where she could see it.
Olá, querida.
I was allowed one gift.
As I write this, your husband is looking over my shoulder. I think he’s making sure I don’t propose.
These are the olive branches I’ve extended, a promise that I will never do anything to disrespect your union.
It’s also a promise that, no matter what happens in my life, should love once again come my way, it will not change the fact that I will forever protect you, Josiah, and Theo.
Maybe, one day, your husband too.
I’m not there yet.
I still hate him.
Kind of.
It’s strange.
I love you, querida, okay?
(He’s reading)
