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Kane looked at where my hand was on his knee with an unreadable expression, though he didn’t move it.
“As soon as Penelope was born, Alma left for another resort and stayed three weeks. But Grandma Josephine helped me. She showed me how to care for a baby.”
“When was she born?”
I swallowed hard. He sounded devastated not to know that simple fact.
“She was born at thirty-eight weeks, so May sixth.”
“That’s why she wanted to get married so quickly. She was pregnant.” Though it wasn’t possible, he seemed to drop his chin farther into his chest.
In all these years, I’d never considered that. And I felt like a fool now for not seeing it. Alma was impetuous. She wanted what she wanted when she wanted it. I thought a wedding was no different.
I should’ve realized my sister would’ve never normally settled for a fifty-person guest list.
But part of me had been jealous of her whirlwind romance. And I’d been ashamed for the thoughts I had of the tender moment Kane and I had shared after he rescued me.
“You should’ve told me.” His tone was steel.
“I didn’t know what you’d do with her. And I wasn’t going to let you hurt her.”
“I wouldn’t have,” he said, his voice rising.
“I didn’t know that,” I cried. “I loved Penelope from the second I saw her. If you thought I was crazy protective about the whales, you can imagine how I am about my daughter.”
“She’s my daughter too.”
The words were like a punch in the face.
He was right.
But somewhere along the way, I’d managed to—I couldn’t forget . . . I’d buried it in my mind.
“I only knew what Alma told me. It never occurred to me not to believe her. And I don’t regret raising her.”
Slowly, he turned. “She doesn’t know you’re not her biological mother.”
I straightened. “I’m her mother in every way that counts.”
While those words were true, my heart pounded a little harder. Because what would Penelope do when she found out I’d lied about her mother too?
And how would it impact her if she thought both of her parents hadn’t wanted her?
I believed Alma had wanted to protect the baby. But she’d never had anything to do with Penelope at all. They’d spoken a few times when Penelope was little on the phone. Every time I’d seen my sister over the years, she’d insisted on doing so when my daughter wasn’t around.
That hurt.
How could she not want to see how amazing Penelope was?
Though part of me had been happy she hadn’t had any interest. Alma was a magnet. What if Penelope had bonded to her? Right or wrong, in Penelope I finally had the joy I never thought I would, and I didn’t want to give that up.
“Are you going to tell her?”
“I-I don’t know,” I whispered. I didn’t want to lose my baby.
“Or are you going to let her keep thinking you slept with your sister’s husband?”
CHAPTERSEVEN
