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“Fine.”
When Fontana reached the door, he turned around. “Sebastian?” he called.
“Yeah?”
“You think you could call me Max? Fontana seen so…”
“Goodnight, Max,” he said.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sebastian promised Morgan that he would call her after his meeting with Max. It was now after midnight, and she was worried sick. He wasn’t answering his cell. She couldn’t visualize them still at the bar sharing drinking stories. She already knew what their conversation would entail. Felt it in her heart. Recognized when Bash and Max sat side by side at the diner. Same eyes. Same nose. Same mouth. Handsome face. Bash was a younger version of Max. She wasn’t sure how she hadn’t seen it immediately. Max was Bash’s father.
It all made sense: The desperate need for Max to meet his son. Using a fabricated story. And Bash was clueless. She had reasoned it wasn’t her news to tell. If Max didn’t reveal the truth tonight, she would have to voice her suspicions. Her loyalty was to Bash.
Throwing on a jacket over her flannel pjs, she headed out to find him. Three swift knocks on his room door elicited no response. The lobby and the lounge were completely deserted. She walked out the front door, considering he may have gone for some fresh air. The cold mountain breeze reminded her of just how inappropriately dressed she was for a one-woman search party. At the front of the parking lot, she saw a sign that read “Picnic Area” with an arrow pointing to the side of the building.
Bash was seated on top of a picnic table with his feet planted on the bench. He gazed into the night, appearing to be deep in thought. Dried fall leaves crunched under her feet as she drew close, alerting him of her approach. He turned her way. She was unable to see his expression in the dark shadows, but his slack body language told her what she needed to know.
“Mind if I join you,” she asked tentatively.
“I might not be good company, but have a seat.”
Morgan sat down and let the silence settle between them.
After taking a deep breath, he spoke. “Max is my father,” he declared.
Morgan struggled with how to respond. Admit her suspicions? Console him? Ask how he feels about it? Before she could decide on the correct approach, Bash had already figured it out. He turned sideways to face her.
“You knew, didn’t you? Did he tell you?” The tone of his voice betrayed his hurt.
She gently rested her hand on his forearm. “No, Bash. I promise you. I only began to suspect when y’all sat next to each other at the diner. Your features are so similar. I don’t know why I didn’t notice it immediately.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice wavered with emotion.
“That’s not fair. Why would I voice something I had no proof was true? Besides, I was sure Max would tell you. Don’t you think that’s why he’s here? The whole biography thing was a ruse. An excuse to meet you. If he hadn’t told you tonight, I would have shared my suspicions with you. Please don’t be mad.”
He grabbed one of her hands. “I’m not mad. Just not sure how I feel about anything right now.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
In the fall moonlight with both shivering in the night air, Bash relayed to Morgan everything he learned from his father. The only part missing was how he felt about the revelation, but Morgan didn’t push.
A thousand questions circled her brain, but the only one she allowed herself to ask was, “Are you okay?”
“I’m somewhere between stunned and angry. Why didn’t Mom trust me with the truth? Let me know my father? When I was old enough to protect her? Why didn’t she reach out to Max? Is he telling the truth? Was she afraid of him and not his father?”
“Those are all good questions. Maybe she thought it was too late. If she knew he had married, maybe she didn’t want to interfere with his life. Pops used to say that revenge didn’t have an expiration date. She could have been plain scared. Unfortunately, you will probably never know, and that must be the hardest part.”
He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah.”
“Concentrate on what you want to do moving forward. You can’t change the past. You need to trust that your mother believed she was doing what was best for you.”
“Should I believe him?”
Morgan thought about it for a few moments. “I do. He seems to be an honest and straightforward man. What would he gain by lying to you? I like him, Bash. Do you think your mother would have been fooled and fallen in love with a bad guy?”
“Not Mom. She was a good judge of character and a wonderful person.”
