* * *

Sam

My father steps into his office, and his jaw drops when he spots me. “Sam?”

I haven’t spoken a single unnecessary word to my father in more than five months. Maybe he doesn’t deserve any better than that, but somehow losing Liz has changed the way I see my relationship with my father. I’ve been punishing myself as much as I’ve been punishing him.

It’s not just because of what he did with Liz—though that alone makes me want to punch him all over again. It’s what happened with Asia.

After the shock from Liz’s confession wore off, I realized her guilt was misplaced. Maybe she gave Connor Asia’s name, but that doesn’t make her responsible for the blackmail. And now more than ever, I need to confront the man who was.

There was no reason for Connor to blackmail her into lying to me. No reason but my father. So for five months, I’ve been carrying around the special resentment of a man who’s had something precious stolen from him by someone he thought he could trust.

“Can we talk?” I ask.

He nods and shuts the door. “What can I do for you?” His voice cracks on the last word, and he clears his throat to cover it. “I’m glad you’re here.”

I drop my gaze to my hands. Fuck. This is just as hard as I thought it would be. “I think we need to be straight with each other.”

“Okay.” Instead of sitting behind his desk, he takes the chair next to mine. “About the wedding? If you need anything, just say the word. Money, special favors . . . whatever we can do. I want the best for you and Sabrina.”

Me and Sabrina. Oh, hell. He’s not the only liar in this family. I’ve been doing him proud. “It’s not about the wedding. It’s about Asia.”

He frowns. “Asia?”

“The stripper I knocked up? She came around last winter asking for hush money.”

He inclines his chin. “Right. I remember. Is she giving you trouble again?”

“I found the baby,” I say, looking him in the eye. “I did some digging and hired a private investigator, and I found the baby. The one you blackmailed her into telling me she aborted.”

“Wait. Slow down. What?”

“Don’t you dare punish her for this. You’re the one who—”

“I didn’t blackmail anyone, Sam. When you came to me before Christmas, I had Connor offer her money to stay quiet about the abortion—but you knew about that. I didn’t even know about the baby before then.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“What would I gain by lying to you?”

I wrap my hands around the arms of the chair and squeeze as I grit my teeth. “I don’t trust you.”

“Right.” He exhales heavily. “I earned that, I guess. But Sam? What do I have to lose? It’s not like you can hate me more than you already do. I’m beginning to believe you’ll never forgive me for what happened with Liz.”

Even hearing him speak her name make me sick. I don’t want my father anywhere near Liz, not even in his thoughts.

“I’m telling you the truth, Sam. I didn’t have anything to do with Asia.”

“Then why did Connor give her money to make her lie to me?”

He frowns. “Connor?”

“He works for you, Dad. I know he was looking into me and trying clean up my ‘messes’ for your campaign.”

“But you’re talking about something that happened over two years ago. He was only working for me part time back then. I swear I wasn’t behind it.”

Something prickles at the back of my neck. I think he’s telling the truth. So who would do that to me? I can only think of one person.

“I made it my business to know if she was really yours long before you even knew she was born.”

“Big night tomorrow at Guy headquarters,” Dad says. “I assume you’re going.”

“Yeah. I’ll be there.”

“Your mom and I are glad to see you and Sabrina together. That’s all we wanted, you know, was for you to be happy. And . . .” He clears his throat. “I apologize that I got in the way of that with Liz.”

I look down at my hands. The apology feels better than I would have imagined, and maybe I would have had it months ago if I had been willing to talk to him. “I’m not happy with Sabrina.”

“What? Why not? Can we help?”

“I’m not with Sabrina, Dad. The sex tape was old—from when I was seventeen and having an affair with Sabrina’s mother.”

“Then why—” The confusion falls off his face as what I’m saying registers. “You and . . . Christine?”

I nod.

“Christ.” He looks at the ceiling—inhales, exhales. “Don’t tell your mother. She’d tear the woman apart.”

“It was consensual.”

“You were seventeen.”

I shrug.

“So you and Sabrina? That’s just a cover-up?”

“Initially, I agreed to pretend it was Sabrina because I knew that tape would be the end of Christine’s campaign, but then one lie spiraled into another, and now I’m being blackmailed into continuing to plan a wedding I never intend to have.”

His jaw tightens. “Who’s blackmailing you?”

“Sabrina and Christine’s campaign manager. Somehow they got transcripts of the conversations you and Liz had on Something Real and they’re threatening to release them if I don’t continue to play along.”