“Miss Hathaway, this is Melissa Baker. I’m from local WBGH. I was hoping to ask you a few questions regarding your connection with Daniel Fitzgerald and his campaign for governor.”
I was silent a moment, the sound of blood thrumming through my veins loud in my ears. “Okay,” I said, tentatively.
“Reports have been released by the local police in connection with the death of his stepson. Some of these reports imply that you are Fitzgerald’s biological daughter. We have sources who have also confirmed that you have been working on his campaign. Can you confirm this?”
Yes, all of that was true, but I wasn’t about to aid the media in its mission to smear Daniel’s campaign or further link him to Mark’s death, which was still under investigation.
I stalled. “I’m sorry, but this actually isn’t a good time,” I said.
“Perhaps I could stop by your office some time that would be more convenient. I understand you run an Internet business here in Boston.”
Jesus, what else did they know? This would be creeping into Blake’s arena soon if it wasn’t already.
“I’m not inclined to comment at this time. I hope you understand.”
“But Miss—”
I hung up the phone quickly and rested my hands on the desk, hoping to still the tremor in them. Shit. It would only be a matter of time before Richard’s digging into my personal life would hit the press. As the days passed with no word though, I’d started to hope that Daniel’s PR concerns were farfetched.
A little more awake and a lot more frustrated, I left the office to meet Marie. I stepped out of the building stairwell and walked toward the black Escalade that always idled by the curb outside my office. Clay, Blake’s hired bodyguard, and most days my personal chauffeur, looked up from the paper he was reading in the driver’s side. He unlocked the vehicle. I slid into the back seat.
“Hey, Clay.”
“Miss Hathaway,” he said, his voice deep and polite.
“You can call me Erica, you know. I won’t be Miss Hathaway much longer anyway.”
A short nod was his only acknowledgement. “Where to this afternoon?”
“What’s your last name?”
Our eyes met in the rearview mirror. “Barker.”
“Well, Mr. Barker, I have a lunch date at The Vine on Newbury.”
He smiled broadly, revealing his straight white teeth. “Very well, Miss Hathaway.”
Ten minutes later, Clay had deposited me in front of the tiny bistro on the busy street. I scanned the dining room for Marie. The eyes of my mother’s best friend lit up when I found her. I walked her way and hugged her, relieved to see her but brimming with frustration at the part she’d played in all of this, whether or not she knew it.
“How are you doing, honey? You look tired.” Her lips pouted with concern as we settled down across from each other.
“I’m fine. Didn’t sleep well last night.”
“How’s Blake?”
“He’s fine. We’re fine.” I didn’t want to get into the real reasons why I’d had a sleepless night. Thoughts of Sophia and their dark past flooded to the forefront of my mind. I pushed them aside when Marie spoke again.
“You must be getting excited about the wedding. I’m sure you can’t wait to see Elliot again too. Gosh, I haven’t seen him in ages.”
I thought back to the last time I’d spoken with my step-father. The conversation had been rushed, and I tried to forget the pangs of disappointment I’d felt learning he wouldn’t be coming out to Boston after all.
“He’s not coming,” I said flatly.
“Why not?
I hesitated. “He reached out to me a while ago to plan a trip out here, to commemorate Mom. It’s been ten years.”
Her face fell and her lips curled into a sad smile. I closed my eyes, not wanting to think about how Marie had filled my mother’s place these past years. Except now we were more friends than anything, and I was absolutely furious with her.
“Anyway, Blake and I want to keep things small. Everything has been happening so fast. I just kept putting off telling Elliot about the wedding, and when we finally talked about him coming out, it sounded like he and Beth were going to be too busy for him to make a quick trip, so I didn’t want to put him in an awkward situation by asking about the wedding.”
“But he’s your…” She sighed softly. “Well, I guess it’s your decision, Erica. I’m sure he would make a way to be there, though.”
“He offered to fly me out to Chicago, so Blake and I decided to go out this weekend for my birthday. I’ll talk to him then and explain everything. It’s no big deal, really.”
Her eyebrows rose. “That sounds like fun, honey. I bet Blake is going to spoil you rotten.” She gave me a girlish smile.
I wanted to return her excitement, but all I could think about was that damn reporter and how this news was threatening to blow up in our faces at any moment.
“Is everything okay?” Marie reached for my hand, feathering her fingers over mine.
I gave her a weak smile and sat back, retreating from her grasp when the waiter filled our waters. We ordered and the silence descended once more.
I cleared my throat quickly. “Are you still seeing Richard?”
“Of course. Why?”
I worried the inside of my lower lip and traced the edge of my cloth napkin on my lap. This wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. I didn’t want to see Marie upset, but she had to know. I drew in a deep breath, bracing myself. “I have to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me. I know you care about Richard, but this is important.”
“What is it? What’s going on?”
“Did you tell him that Daniel Fitzgerald was my father?”
Her lips parted silently, her gaze steady on mine. “Why?”
I wilted, defeated by her reaction. I could have believed her if she’d denied it right off the bat. “Because, somehow, the police know that I’m Daniel’s daughter. The investigation regarding his son’s death still isn’t closed, so they’ve got his life under a microscope right now. Now the press is latching onto this too. I just dodged a call from a local reporter. I have a sinking feeling there will be more.”
“Are you implying that Richard had a part in this?”
I tried not to bristle at her defensive tone. Getting angry with her would go nowhere. I had to make her understand. “The night of the Spirit Gala, Richard was there. Remember, you told me to look out for him because he was covering the event with a photographer. He never introduced himself, but when the police questioned me about Mark’s death, they had photos of him dancing with me. Not just one. Dozens of photos. Why would someone spend so much time on me, and how did those specific photos find their way into the police’s hands?”
Marie picked up her water with shaky hands and swallowed the liquid down hard. “There has to be some other explanation for this. I don’t know why Richard would do this.”
“Maybe because he’s using you to get information about Daniel. About me.”
She shook her head with a frown. “That’s impossible.”
“He’s a reporter, Marie. This is his job.”
“He wouldn’t do this. I know him.” Her calm demeanor had risen to an almost frantic state. The truth hurt. This I knew.
I leaned in. “He said himself that his focus is on political news reporting, right? The controversy around Daniel’s campaign—with Mark’s death and now an illegitimate daughter helping with his campaign—how could he ignore it? Remember how things were on the rocks between you two, but then he came around after the gala? Everything changed between you two, seemingly out of the blue.”
“Stop it, Erica,” she snapped. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“How could you tell him about Daniel? You couldn’t even tell me for a decade, for Christ’s sake. And you tell him. A reporter? Now I have no idea what this is going to do to my business or Blake’s, not to mention Daniel’s campaign.”
>
She scoffed. “You’re worried about Daniel’s campaign? He’s given you nothing. He didn’t want anything to do with you, Erica. Patty gave him a chance to be a father, and he chose his blue-blood family and his career. You grew up without a father because of that choice, and now you’re fighting for his career too?”
My jaw tightened. She wasn’t the only person to hold that belief. Blake would rather see Daniel in jail than anywhere else, but I couldn’t stomach the thought of his demise because I’d made the mistake of discovering his identity and seeking him out.
“You don’t understand what’s at stake,” I said simply, not wanting to get into the emotional reasons why I needed Daniel a free man. “What else did you tell him?”
“I don’t know, Erica.” Her head fell into her palm and she closed her eyes. “I had a couple drinks, and we were talking about how accomplished you are. Once I got going about all you’ve done under the circumstances, I probably went on for a while. Still, knowing what you mean to me, I can’t believe he would intend to hurt you by misusing that information.”
“Well, I’m nearly positive that he did.” And if Daniel ever found out, God help him.
“No one else knows? What about the people you work with?”
I tossed my napkin on the table and shoved my chair back, losing my patience with Marie’s obvious unwillingness to accept the truth of the matter. “Think what you want to, Marie. But do me a favor. Next time you see Richard, ask him if he told anyone else what you told him. Look him in the eye when you do, and tell me if you believe him.”
I rose to leave, grabbing my purse.
“Erica, wait.”
I paused. “You warned me once to be careful around Daniel. If you care for Richard, you might want to pass that advice on to him too.”
I turned and walked out, ignoring her calling out my name one last time. I’d already said too much. But hell, if he was already hot on Daniel’s trail, he should know Daniel wasn’t a man to be trifled with. Maybe Richard already had his suspicions about Mark’s apparent suicide. I had no idea who in Daniel’s camp knew the truth. But I’d sworn Blake to secrecy, and I wouldn’t be the one to put my own father behind bars.
* * *
I came home early and dropped the groceries on the counter. Despite my nagging fatigue, I threw myself into cooking dinner. Blake’s family was coming over, and I had been looking forward to hosting since we’d be missing out on this weekend’s dinner at his parents’. I lost myself in the task of prepping two large lasagnas, temporarily forgetting the worries that kept threatening to poke through.
I put the pans into the oven to cook and poured myself a full glass of wine, eager for a little mental relief. Alli came through the door after a short knock.
“Hey.” She smiled and came to me for a hug. “You didn’t come back after lunch. I was worried about you.”
“I needed to get some things for the trip this weekend, and I wanted to get a head start on dinner too. Everything going okay?”
“Yeah. Oh, Alex called for you, but I told him you were out and traveling this weekend. He said he would be in town next week so I put him in your calendar for Monday. I hope that’s okay.”
“Sure.”
“Are you excited about Chicago?”
Was I? “I think so. It’ll be a little strange. I haven’t been back in a while, but I’m looking forward to getting away for a bit.”
She went to the counter to pour herself a glass of wine. “I bet Blake has big plans for your birthday. It’s your first birthday together!” She smiled broadly and clinked glasses with me.
I laughed and took another sip. I hadn’t given the occasion much thought. Between the wedding and the daily flurry of things to do and people to deal with, celebrating was a far away thought.
Alli and I chatted about work and settling into her new apartment with Heath. Things were going well with them—her eyes and the carefree smile that crept over her lips spoke volumes. I was grateful for what they had. They needed each other, I imagined, much the same way Blake and I had grown to rely on each other.
Heath and Blake came through the door several minutes later. Alli went to Heath, and he pulled her into a sweet embrace, kissing her lips gently. My focus went to Blake, who was making casual strides in my direction.
“Hello, beautiful.”
I tipped my chin up to meet his chaste kiss. His gaze was warm, but concern lined his eyes.
“How was your day?”
Before I could answer him, Catherine, Greg, and Fiona came through the door, arms full of wine and desserts. They piled into the kitchen, talking over each other and pulling everyone else into hugs. I smiled inwardly, loving all their energy and the lightness they brought into our lives.
“How are my lovebirds?” Catherine asked as she reached up to kiss Blake on the cheek.
He smirked. “We’re good, Mom.”
She replied with a loving pat on his cheek before turning to me. “Let me help you, sweetheart. Look at this spread. You’ll put Greg out of a job.”
I laughed. “I doubt it. Greg’s lasagna is pretty incredible.”
A proud smile lifted Greg’s lips. “Why, thank you!”
“Oh!” Fiona’s eyes lit up. “I have some things I have to run by you.” She winked in Alli’s direction.
“Okay.” Alli pointed to Blake, Heath, and Greg who were all lingering by the island. “Boys in the living room. The girls need to conference.”
Heath rolled his eyes. “Uh-oh.”
Alli hushed him and pushed him off with the others.
As the guys got comfortable in the living room, Alli leaned in and spoke quietly. “So, now that Fiona’s here, we need to plan your bachelorette party. I just need to know if you want us to surprise you or if you have any specific requests.”
“Um, no surprises, I guess. You should invite Simone though.”
“Definitely. She’s on the list. Do you have anything specific you want to do?”
I shrugged. “Not really.”
“Okay, Fiona and I will handle the props.” She started typing some notes into her phone.
“Props?”
“Penis straws, blinking tiaras, that type of stuff.”
I laughed and refilled my wine glass. “You guys are going to send me off in style, aren’t you?”
“Oh, yeah. We’re going all out. This will not be a classy affair, I’m afraid,” Alli said.
I lifted my eyebrows, almost wishing I had opted for the surprise. “Oh God. I hope there aren’t any male strippers. Blake would have a coronary.”
Fiona chuckled. “Whatever. We don’t need his permission.”
“I heard that! And the answer is no fucking way.” Blake called in from the living room.
“Blake! Language!” Catherine shot back before putting oven mitts on her hands and pulling the lasagna out of the oven.
Fiona shook her head and leaned over Alli’s shoulder to see what she was typing. “We’ll figure out a date tonight, and leave the planning—and props—to us. You only get to do this once.”
“Okay, just remember I’d like to still be engaged by the end of it,” I said. Heaven knew I didn’t need Blake barging in on us, having a royal fit about whatever drunken debauchery we were going to get ourselves into.
Catherine rested her hand on my shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry about that. I’m not sure anything could shake that man’s commitment to marry you. I’m shocked he hasn’t whisked you off to Las Vegas yet. You know how he is when he gets a thing in his mind.”
“Yes, I do,” I mumbled under my breath.
She shot me a knowing look and grabbed up some side dishes from the island. “Dinner’s ready!”
We spent the rest of the evening talking about everything—from Heath’s work with some new ventures at Blake’s office to the details of the impending wedding. By the end of the evening, I was stuffed, and all I could think about was what a crazy future I had in store for me with these wonderful loving peo
ple.
After they all left, I retreated to the bedroom to start organizing a few outfits to pack for the trip. Blake came in and gave me a hug from behind.
“Alone at last. I thought they’d never leave.”
“I think dinner night here went well. We should do it more often. I had fun.” The wine had dulled some of the upset from my day. I was still tired, but more settled than I had been.
“We’ll need more space soon.”
Our eyes met in the reflection of the mirror.
“We will?”
Blake kissed my cheek. “Eventually Fiona will have someone around and the family will grow. We’ll need a better place to host.”
I let that thought settle over me for a minute. “Oh,” I said softly. Suddenly my body felt too warm.
He released me from his embrace and sat back on the bed. “Have you ever thought about moving?”
“Not really. This place is great. It’s certainly nicer than any place I ever expected to have in the city.” A part of me had wondered what it might be like to have a place that was ours, not just Blake’s, but our lives moved too fast to contemplate it much further. He’d given me so much already. I was in no position to ask for more, especially considering the financial inequity between us.
“Maybe we can start looking for places outside the city.”
I turned to look at him, confused by this topic coming up so suddenly. “But we both work here. Why would we move?”
He shrugged. “Things change. We might want a change of scenery eventually. We love the Vineyard, but obviously it’s too far away for our jobs.”
I stared at him, trying to decide if it was something I really wanted. So much was in flux with my life lately. As soon as one part started to seem sure, somehow everything got turned upside down again.
“It’s just something I’ve been thinking about. We don’t have to talk about it right now though.”
He pulled off his T-shirt and jeans and slipped under the covers. The sight of his beautiful shirtless body effectively deleted any other thoughts from my mind.
“How was your day? You’ve been quiet.” He leaned on his elbow, and the look of concern from earlier softened his expression.
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