Page 58 of Until Then

Words that left me wondering what I’d done wrong.

For nearly a decade, I kept the birthday card. The day I turned eighteen it arrived. When I saw the name, my heart raced, thinking maybe, just maybe, he wanted more to do with me.

Instead, when I opened it, the cruelty of it was a lash so deep, the scar is still there.

Dear Hayley,

Congratulations, you’re finally 18. You know what that means? You’re officially an adult.

I’ve waited for this day since you were born. You’re independent, which means you’re no longer a dependent.

Hope you enjoyed all the child support your mother gouged from me all these years. Today is the day we’re both free—you, from adolescence. Me, from forced fatherhood.

Happy birthday.

Best,

Shane

Shane. Not Dad.

He was never a dad. I saw the man twice a year for the first sixteen years of my life. When I was young, I thought he wanted to see me, but his life as an actor—well, a big time director now—left him busy enough he couldn’t see me.

I never thought he showed up because he was afraid my mom would expose him publicly as a deadbeat dad.

Mom would’ve been thrilled to have the man never step foot in our lives after he left her high and dry a year after I was born.

If not for my late paternal grandmother—who was actually quite loving—and her insistence her pathetic son accept hisresponsibilities, I’m sure Shane Holston would’ve been thrilled to ignore his illegitimate daughter for good.

My father is my dirty little secret. One Jasper discovered. I’m a fool for not adding up the timeline. After he found out I’m the unclaimed child of the Hollywood great, is when Jasper asked me to take our relationship to a new level.

I’m blind not to realize the random questions about reaching out to dear old dad didn’t come from concern for me and my need for closure, it came from his selfish need to network.

The only thing Jasper did that was semi-decent was not share the truth of my parentage with the media. Then again, he likely only kept his mouth shut so he wouldn’t draw the wrath of Shane.

No doubt Noah has heard of him. Few people in his industry haven’t. For all I know, Noah has crossed paths at awards and banquets.

Someday he might learn the truth. To see his eyes light up with the notion of furthering a career because of the man who donated some DNA would reopen old wounds.

I shake my head, shoving the thought away.

Maybe Noah would do that if he cared about the prestige and celebrity side of his career. Good thing my fake boyfriend is terrible at being famous and is too normal to be corrupted by the appeal of Shane’s influence.

As though thoughts of him summoned his presence, a sleek, dark, sporty car appears in front of my house. Ten breaths and a heavy knock comes to the door.

I don’t even try to seem cool by making him wait for a bit before I rip the door open.

Noah, swim shorts, flip flops, and a tank top is a vision I didn’t know I needed. His hair is a bit ruffled, and his dark sunglasses slide down his nose when he scans me from head to toe.

I don’t even shy away.

“I’ve made a mistake,” he says. “I’m going to ruin my nephew’s innocence. How am I supposed to keep my distance from you?”

I hope he doesn’t. I pat his cheek and stride past, a little sway to my hips. “Learn some self-control, Pretty Boy. We have sandcastles to build, and I’m not letting Jude down.”

Noah groans, even stomps his foot like a spoiled kid, then follows me to his car. He shouts at me to stop where I am, then slips between me and the car door.

“Don’t argue.” He presses one finger to my lips before I can protest. “Pretend you’re helpless around doors when you’re with me. It’ll make it all so much easier.”

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