Page 121 of Perfect Pitch

My mother’s fingers knot together. “That wasn’t an option. At least not to me.”

I cover her hand with mine, and our eyes meet. Now I understand the emotion behind the expression “pain shared is pain halved” because even as my mother tries to alleviate my desperate swirl of emotions, I try to lift her agony.

“Is Beckett Miller her father?” Carys asks.

Mama shakes her head no. I want to snicker knowing that with Dr. Paige Kensington, details matter. My mind flashes back to last year when I presented her with my plan to move to New York.

“He isn’t?” Carys’s voice is laced with shock.

“I can confirm that Beau Beckett Miller is her biological father. By all accounts, I would assume they are one and the same, but since I haven’t had a conversation with Beau Beckett Miller in close to twenty years, I cannot confirm that information.”

“Lord save me from doctors who would make excellent witnesses,” Carys mutters.

“I’ve been on the stand a few times,” she offers.

“I’d have been certain of that even if it wasn’t for the investigator’s report.” She taps the pile next to her.

Mama’s not surprised in the slightest she had us investigated, but I voice my indignation, even though I suspected this very thing. “You had someone look into us?”

Carys smiles so widely it’s like staring into the mouth of a shark. “Your mother did the same. Didn’t you, Paige?”

“I had your firm looked into, not you personally. I wanted to validate your ethics before I brought my daughter here. You’ll be pleased to know everything I read was impressive,” she voices coolly.

“As a parent, I would likely do the same. As the owner of this firm, I do consider the distinction fair. As the lawyer who represents Beckett Miller, I’m still suspicious.”

“As am I. Tell me why I should encourage my daughter to sign away her confidentiality rights to a firm that also represents her biological donor?”

Carys opens her mouth to respond, but Mama plows over her. “Just know something, Carys. I have little faith in promises, even those made in writing.”

“I can see how you might...”

“My father hired an investigator back then to find him so I could tell him.” She hands the file she showed me in San Antonio to David, who immediately flips it open. His jaw locks as he begins reading.

“David?” Carys queries.

“He did.”

“And?”

David shakes his head. Carys’s shoulders slump. “What happened next, Paige?”

“At first I refused to name who Austyn’s father was.”

“Why?”

“He left me. Did it matter?”

“Some would have argued it might have, Paige.” Carys’s voice has softened.

The room goes still as my mother unconsciously begins recanting what happened between her and my grandfather when he demanded she tell him who my father was—is.

“You will tell me right now!”

“Why? He’s gone. He left. Why does it matter?”

“Because I will know how far this treachery of yours goes, Paige. We need to determine what to do about that abomination you carry.”

“You dare? This is your flesh and blood.”

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