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“I thought that, too.” I tap my fingers on her desk. “I still don’t know why she did it. I mean, she loved my father and they were great together. Plus she was a saint. But I guess she wasn’t perfect. She was a woman who loved, a human who made mistakes.”
Still, Emily shakes her head. “I don’t believe it.”
“I didn’t either, but there was a picture,” I tell her.
A picture among many in a box which now sits at the bottom of my closet. I would have brought them along, but the box was heavy and I didn’t really feel comfortable carrying it around.
Emily shrugs. “It could be fake.”
“I think this was before photoshopping was a thing.”
Emily nods. “Were they kissing in the picture?”
“No.”
“Were they having sex?”
I throw her a look of disgust. “Emily!”
She shrugs. “Then how can you say this picture was proof that your mother was having an affair?”
“Because it was taken when she was already married,” I answer.
She gives another shrug. “Maybe she was on vacation and she just wanted a picture with a good-looking British man.”
“She saved the picture, Emily,” I point out.
“Then maybe they were friends.”
I let out a sigh and tell her about the rubies which I also left in the box.
Emily gasps. “Are they real? If so, that ring must be worth a lot of money.”
“I think so,” I say. “But let’s not forget what’s important here.”
The fact that I’m someone else’s kid. And that that someone is Dax’s father.
Emily sits back in her chair. “Okay. Fine. Let’s say your mother, God rest her soul, had an affair. That doesn’t mean she had a kid.”
“But she did. There was a picture of her with a baby bump, and a baby ultrasound picture with a date that says I’m that baby.”
“Well, maybe she got back together with your dad after her affair and they had you.”
“Or maybe he took her back after she gave birth to me,” I suggest.
Emily sighs. “Why don’t you just ask him?”
My eyebrows arch. Is she crazy?
“I don’t even know if my dad knows my mom had an affair. If he doesn’t, I’m not sure I want him to know. What good would that do?”
Emily holds up a finger. “You know what? You should just have a DNA test done. Get a DNA sample from the man you call your dad, you know, like a strand of hair or something with his saliva…”
I make a face.
“And then you’ll find out if you’re his daughter or not.”
“And if I’m not?” I ask.
“Then get a DNA sample from Dax and have that compared to yours. If he’s your brother, there should be some similarities in your DNA, right?”
I make an even worse face.
If he’s my brother. The very thought of it makes me sick.
How can fate be so cruel?
“You are going to tell Dax about this, right?” Emily asks me.
I grip my hair. “I don’t know, Em.”
I don’t even know how I’m supposed to face him now.
“Well, he deserves to know,” Emily says. “Since it concerns both of you. Then you can both figure out – ”
“I said I don’t know, Em!” I snap at her as I get out of my seat.
Emily looks away and says nothing. I touch my forehead and sigh. What am I doing? I came here because I needed solace, to find some sort of support. I haven’t found that, but that doesn’t mean I have the right to take out my frustration on my only friend.
I gather my things. “I should go. Thanks, Emily.”
Without waiting for her response, I leave her office. I head to my car and drive back home.
Right now, my mind is too muddled. I should go back home first, try to collect my thoughts, get a grip on my feelings. I should calm down.
I intend to try and do just that once I get home, but as I approach the house, I see a stranger on the front lawn.
A reporter? Fuck, I can’t deal with this right now.
I try to drive straight into the garage, but the man is in the way. For a second, I consider running him over, but I decide it’s not worth it. I park the car, get out and walk to the front door.
He chases after me. “Jenna Holt?”
Can’t he take a fucking hint?
I stop on the front steps and take out my keys.
“Jenna Holt, is it true that you’re Dax Bender’s girlfriend?”
I don’t answer. Shit. Where’s my key?
“Is he the father of your daughter?”
I can’t deal with this right now.
“Do the two of you have plans to get married? How long have you been together?”
Seriously, where is my fucking key? Ah. There it is.
“Can you tell me more about yourself? Is it true that your mother’s dead?”
The mention of my mother causes my patience to snap. I turn around to face him with a glare.
