“Yes, he did.”
I actually laughed.
A hard, disbelieving sound.
“This is absurd.”
“His name is Thomas Holloway.”
“He told me he was an only child.”
“He had two brothers.”
I took one step backward.
“Two?”
“And a sister.”
The hotel room suddenly felt too small.
A man I had slept beside for thirty-four years had carried an entire family history I never knew existed.
“Are they alive?”
“One brother is.”
“What about the others?”
Daniel looked toward the photograph of my house.
“That’s complicated.”
Something in his tone frightened me.
“What does complicated mean?”
Before he could answer, my phone beeped.
A message.
From Ryan.
My son.
I almost ignored it.
Then I saw the preview.
MOM, DON’T TRUST EMILY.
My breath stopped.
“Mom?” Emily said through the call.
I said nothing.
Another message arrived.
SHE’S BEEN LYING TO YOU ABOUT DAD.
I looked at Daniel.
He noticed my expression.
