“I thought you were all for telling the truth,” I say in a snide voice.

“The truth is one thing,” Tyson says. “But you threw a grenade in there—”

“Are you for real right now?” I shout back at him. “What did you think was going to happen? I told you that this was a bad idea!”

“You’re right, Lainey,” Hannah says in her most placating tone. “You are a hundred percent right, and I take full responsibility for this—”

I cut her off, still shouting. “And if you think I’m going to go meet the other bitch in the family, you can forget it! Ain’t gonna happen!”

“Why didn’t you just try to talk to Ashley alone? One on one?” Tyson asks as he pulls away from the curb. “Why would you say all that stuff right in front of her mother?”

“I’m sorry I don’t have a whole lot of sympathy for that woman and her triplet grandchildren!”

“What do the grandchildren have to do with this?” Tyson asks. “You’re not even making any sense!”

“Oh, I’d say they have plenty to do with this!”

I know I’m being irrational, and that he’s right—it’s not relevant how many children Ashley has or that she birthed three of them at once. But somehow, they feel like one more slap in the face. Because of course she has a big happy family. And of course her children have doting grandparents who babysit while their mother goes to the salon.

As for my father, he is exactly who and what I’ve known him to be for years. The truth has been underscored: his so-called love story with my mother wasn’t complicated or star-crossed. It was all a lie. And my mother—not Ashley’s mother—was the true victim. The one who paid the ultimate price.

—

No one speaks for the rest of the car ride back to the hotel. When we walk into the lobby, Hannah suggests that we go put our swimsuits on and head out to the pool. Tyson nods, but as they walk toward the elevator, I veer off.

“Lainey!” Hannah calls after me.

“What?” I say, glancing back at her.

“Where are you going?” she asks with a worried look—her default expression.

“To find the bar.”

“For lunch?”

“Nope,” I say. “For a martini.”

Hannah glances in Tyson’s direction, as if torn.

“Go with Tyson,” I say, deciding for her. “I want to be alone right now.”

—

The Mansion Bar is cool and dark with a clubby, masculine décor and leather-clad banquettes. Fittingly, the bartender is a classic guy’s guy, and there are also three men at the bar. Two are older—in their forties, maybe fifties—dressed in well-tailored suits and expensive shoes. The third is younger than I am, wearing Wrangler’s, cowboy boots, and a plaid shirt. He has nice brown eyes and looks easier to talk to, so I pick him. I’m not in the mood for a challenge.

I hop on the barstool next to his. “Hi,” I say. “Is this seat free?”

“Hi,” he says. “And yes! It’s free!”

“Thank you,” I say, giving him a seductive smile.

He smiles back at me. I glance down at his left hand, wrapped around his pint glass. No ring.

“I’m Lainey,” I say, loud enough for the other two men to hear. Might as well kill three birds with one stone in case this one doesn’t pan out. Four including the bartender, who is now standing in earshot of us.

“Gus,” he says, eagerly extending his hand.

I shake it, saying, “That’s a cute name.”

“Thanks,” he says. “It’s gotten trendy, but growing up, I was the only Gus in my grade.”

“Your parents were ahead of the curve, I see.”

“Yeah. I suppose they were!” he says, grinning, as the bartender asks what he can get me.

“An extra-cold, extra-dirty vodka martini,” I say, giving him a flirty smile.

“Vodka preference?” he asks, all business. For now.

“You choose. I trust you.”

He nods, then turns to make my drink while Gus asks me whether I’m here for business or pleasure.

“Neither,” I say. “I’m here because my friends made me come down to Texas to meet my sister. Who didn’t know I existed until about an hour ago.”

“Wait. Your sister didn’t know you existed?” he asks. “How’s that?”

I sigh and say, “My dad was married when he met my mom. They had an affair. I was an accident that he never told his ‘real’ family about.”

“Hmm. Well, you look pretty real to me,” Gus says, grinning at me.

“Yeah. A little too real for my sister.”

“Uh-oh. The meeting didn’t go well?”

“That’s an understatement. It was a bloodbath. Hence, the martini.”

“Wow. That sucks.”

“Yeah. But whatever.” I shrug. “What about you? What brings you to Dallas?”

“Work,” he says. “But I’m not staying at this hotel.”

“Are you meeting someone here?”

“No. I just wanted to check this place out. I love nice hotels. The lobbies and bars, that is. I wouldn’t know about the rooms.” He smiles. “Can’t afford ’em!”

I smile back at him, though he’s boring me so far. “What kind of work are you here for?” I ask.