He handed her the mug. “You sure you’re all right?”

“Mostly I’m just numb. Yesterday doesn’t even seem real.” Alexis curled her hands around the hot cup and let the heat seep into her skin. “Thank you for staying.”

He softly clinked his mug against hers. “What’re friends for?”

They sipped their coffee quietly. Alexis smothered a yawn behind her hand.

“Maybe you should take today off,” Noah said.

“I can’t. I need to be there.”

“You’re allowed a sick day every now and then, Lexa.”

“What’s your day look like?”

He lifted his eyebrow again at the obvious change of subject. “A lot of voice mails I don’t want to deal with and a follow-up meeting with a potential new client and whatever crisis crops up.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“It’s not. I’d rather stay here with you.”

Warmth returned to her chest, followed quickly by uncertainty. What did that mean? “What time do we need to be at your mom’s?”

Noah sat back in his chair. “Maybe we should skip dinner tonight.”

“No.”

“It’s too much. We can just hang out, put together the LEGO set.”

“I want to go, Noah. I need to go.” She offered half a smile. “Anyway, I want to make those stuffed mushrooms your sister likes in case she shows up.”

“God forbid we should disappoint Zoe.”

Alexis nudged his foot with hers. “You’re as scared of her as I am.”

“That is absolutely true.”

The conversation lulled into a shared smile. Alexis opened her mouth to thank him again for staying, but he cut her off.

“I did some research last night after you went to bed.”

Her breath caught. “Research?”

“Into him.”

The coffee turned to tar in her stomach. “What’d you find out?”

His fingers scratched his beard-covered jaw. “Most of what Candi told you seems to check out. He lives in Huntsville. Has two grown children, Candace and Cayden. Works for an aerospace engineering company. I found a link to a company newsletter with a profile of him from a few months ago. I printed it out if you want to read it.”

His fingers tapped an overturned stack of papers next to his laptop. She studied it a moment before nodding. Noah slid the stack over, but she didn’t pick it up. She’d read it later. “Did you find anything else?”

Noah hesitated. “Didn’t you say your mom is from Tennessee?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Elliott is from California, and it looks like he didn’t move out this way until 1999.”

“My mom lived in California for two years before I was born.”

Noah nodded absently, but his eyes had a far-off look to them. “I guess that makes sense, then.”

Alexis tugged her eyebrows together. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I dug up his wedding announcement in an online newspaper archive.” Without meeting her gaze, he powered up his computer, hit a few keys, and then turned the computer around for her to see. On the screen was a black-and-white photo of a beaming bride and groom with their cheeks pressed together and their hands clasped at the chest.

The room spun in her peripheral vision as her eyes focused on the man. Was that him? Was that her father? The man her mother would never talk about, the man who’d never cared to know his own daughter, who’d abandoned her mother to raise a child all on her own? The image was too blurry for her to study the eyes enough to see if they were truly a match to her own, so instead Alexis tore her gaze to the words beneath the picture.

     SAMMONS-VANDERPOOL

 Andrew and Ellen Sammons of Redlands are proud to announce the wedding of their daughter, Lauren, to Elliott James Vanderpool of Santa Barbara on March 23. The couple were married at St. Francis Cathedral in Redlands followed by a reception at the historic Mission Inn in Riverside. The bride and groom met as students at UC Santa Barbara, where the groom earned his doctorate in aeronautical engineering and the bride earned a bachelor’s degree in education. The groom is employed as an engineer at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory, and the bride is a kindergarten teacher. The couple honeymooned in Tuscany, Italy, and will reside in Pasadena.

She read it twice quickly and then a third time, pausing at key words and phrases that painted a picture in her mind. A picture of prosperity and privilege. Of security and stability. Of health and comfort.

Resentment churned in her stomach. Growing up, Alexis had never, not once, wished for more than she had. And even when she began to realize that they lived differently than other people, her mother had been enough.

But what if her mom hadn’t had to work so hard? What if she hadn’t had to go into debt so Alexis could go to college for a better life? What if they’d had adequate health insurance and her mother hadn’t been forced to spend her last few months worrying about leaving Alexis with unpaid bills?

A sour taste burned her tongue as she pushed the computer away. “I knew he was married. I don’t understand what this—”

“Look at the date, Lexa.”

Her eyes zeroed in on the date at the top of the page. April 3, 1989.

At first it meant nothing.

Until it meant everything.

That couldn’t be right. Alexis was born in April 1989.

Her gaze snapped back to Noah’s as an inexplicable emotion clogged her throat. “He’s not my father.”

“It doesn’t necessarily mean that.”

“Of course it does. How could he be my father? My mom would’ve had to have gotten pregnant while he was engaged.”

Noah gave her a look that managed to make her feel both naive and stupid. She shook her head. “No. My mom wouldn’t have had an affair with a man who was engaged to someone else. Not unless . . .”

“Unless what?”

“Maybe she didn’t know he was engaged. Maybe . . . maybe he was cheating on his fiancée and my mom didn’t know and when she told him she was pregnant, he broke up with her.” Her words tumbled out in a desperate rush of justifications. Anything to make this all make sense. Anything to answer the loudest question screaming in the back of her mind. Why?

Noah shut his laptop and leaned forward. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves.” His voice was calm, soothing. “The easiest way to find out if he’s truly your father is to get a blood test.”

He was right. Alexis nodded and looked at the twisted knot of her hands in her lap.

“Or . . . ,” Noah said.

“Or what?”

“Or you do nothing and tell them all to leave you alone.”

Her head snapped up. “I can’t do nothing!”

“You are under no obligation to get involved.”

“He’s dying, Noah.”

“Which you didn’t even know until yesterday. You didn’t even know about him until yesterday.”

“But now I do know.”

Noah sat up and shoved his fingers into his mop of curly hair to shove it back from his face. A vein pulsed at his temple, as if unspoken words were literally pounding to get out.

“What?” she said.

Noah shook his head and stood, mug in hand. “Nothing.”

“Stop. We don’t nothing each other. Say what you want to say.”

Noah walked over to the island and turned around. He opened his mouth and shut it. Then, with a heavy breath, he said, “It’s not your job to save the world, Lexa.”

“I’m not trying to save the world.”

“Then what are you doing?” Noah set down his mug and returned to the table. He sat down and leaned forward until his knees nudged hers. “You know how much I admire what you’re doing at the café. And not just for the survivors but, Jesus, even the cats you find families for.”

“But?”

“You’re running yourself ragged. And then you add all this shit on top of it? When are you going to stop and just take a breath?”

A lump formed in the back of her throat. She stood quickly to cover it. “I have to get ready for work.”

“Hey.” He reached for her hand, and the warmth of his fingers in hers made her bruised heart thud with a dull ache.

As he spoke, the pad of his thumb brushed her knuckles. “Just remember that you matter, too, Alexis.”

The ache became a sharp, pointed pain. And not just because of what he said, but because of how he said it. Or maybe it was just her imagination. Wishful thinking and all that.

Alexis cleared her throat and tugged her hand away. “Thank you for staying last night. And all this.” She gestured at his computer.

Noah leaned back in his chair. “Whatever you need. You know that, right?”

Her nod was more of a tremor.

“I’ll leave the stuff I printed,” he said, standing. He kept his distance from her, literally backing up to avoid brushing his arm against hers. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

No. I’m not okay. I’m reeling from the punch of a thousand different fists. “Yeah. Fine.”

He raised a single eyebrow.

“Well, maybe not fine but . . .” She sucked in a breath and let it out with a shrug. “I don’t know what I am.”

His face sobered. “Come here.”

With a single step forward, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a warm embrace. His heart pounded beneath her cheek. Strong. Solid. Reassuring. He held her and let her catch her breath, pressing his lips to the top of her head, just like he’d done when she rested her head on his shoulder last night. His hands rubbed gentle circles in the center of her back.

“We’ll figure it out,” he murmured against her hair. “You don’t have to make any decisions right now.”

“But I have to make them soon. Candi said he’s running out of time.”