Page 59 of Vodka and Chocolate Drops

Scott closed the steel door behind them, leading her down the alley’s uneven asphalt, around potholes filled with murky rainwater, before finally pushing her against a brick wall behind a dumpster.

“You okay?” he asked.

She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. Was John really her father? Was she just grasping at straws, wishing for him to be?

But the look in his eyes. His expression. The things he’d done in their shared history. It all lined up.

And her mother loved him. They smiled at each other in a way that said something.

Amber looked nothing like John. Because she looked so much like Gloria.

Scott pulled off his police jacket, draping it over her shoulders. It was surprisingly heavy, the thick and sturdy material weighing her down, grounding her. She pulled it closer, savoring the warmth from Scott’s body, as well as his scent.

He said nothing, but his gaze stayed on hers.

“I think John is my father,” Amber said, feeling silly as she said it out loud.

“I think so, too.”

She looked up so quickly the barrette holding back her bangs slipped out of place. “What?”

“I think he is.”

“How long have you known?”

“A few years. But everyone figured it was Philip. Then when John divorced again and didn’t step forward, I decided it was probably best to keep my thoughts to myself.”

“What do I do? What do I say?”

“Nothing.”

Amber thought about that for a moment. “Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

She had to say something to her mother. Had to. She couldn’t let this one sit around, waiting for her mother to be ready.

Amber shrugged out of Scott’s jacket, handing it to him, shivering when their fingers produced jolts of electricity at the touch. She already missed his jacket’s comfort and heat, wishing she could wrap herself in him.

“Scott?”

“Yeah?”

“Will I ever be ready?” She placed her palms against his chest, needing the security that only he could give. “For us? For forever?” Her voice cracked on “forever” and she hated that she wasn’t stronger. That she wasn’t yet the woman Scott needed her to be. It felt as though every step she took to bring them closer did the opposite. She felt crushed and broken, and wished she was more. So much more.

He wrapped his hands around hers, bringing them to his lips for a light kiss. “You may not feel as though you are first in there right now.” He tipped his head toward the café they’d abandoned. “But you’ll always be first in here.” He pulled her hands over his heart. “Always.”

* * *

Whoever said beingthe youngest meant having privileges was so full of crap.

All anyone in town wanted to do was talk about her sister. Yes, Amber got it. Her sister was new and exciting even for the non-gossips. A long-lost daughter that no one had known about. Surprise!

But the worst was that her mother was just as absorbed in her long-lost daughter as everyone else was. She kept asking Amber if she was okay, and what was she supposed to say? “No, I’m feeling replaced, jealous, and am having a difficult time dealing with sharing you--my only parent?” She needed to suck it up. Grow up. Get over it.

What she really wanted to do was ask if John was truly her father. Amber was freaking out, not knowing what to do, say, or how to act.

She needed to focus on what she did have. She’d always wanted a sibling and now she had one. Delia was wonderful and wanted to be a part of her life. And her mother had accepted her, as well. It was completely natural that the two of them wanted to spend time together.

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