“My parents told me I was adopted when I was six, so I’ve always known. I toyed with the idea of finding my birth parents as a teenager, but I didn’t pursue it.” He quirks a brow, and his brow ring lifts with the motion. “Why would I? I have the most amazing family. I didn’t need to find the parents who abandoned me.”
“Our mother didn’t abandon you,” Reeve says. A host of different emotions is splayed on his face, and I know this is a lot to process for him. “She died giving birth to us.”
“So I’ve just discovered.” Dillon scrubs his hands down his face.
“You just found out too?” Reeve asks, sitting up straighter.
“It’s been such a shock.”
I regard Dillon warily, trying to figure out if he’s being honest or lying.
“I know.” Reeve nods, biting on his lip. “Simon was wrong to do what he did to you. To us.” His voice breaks, and I reach out, threading my fingers in his. Dillon’s eyes track every touch, making me feel self-conscious. “It’s just another reason in a long list of reasons why he was a shit dad.”
Dillon leans forward on his elbows. “You didn’t get along?”
Reeve shakes his head. “No. He might have kept me, but it was in name only. He could hardly bear to look at me sometimes.”
Dillon looks to the ground, and his knee jerks up and down. When he lifts his head, after a few beats, he looks calm and composed, and I’m immediately on guard. He smiles at Reeve. “Well, he’s not here now, and there’s nothing to stop us from getting to know one another. Brother to brother.” His eyes dart briefly to mine. “Twin to twin.”
“I would really like that,” Reeve says, oblivious to my mini meltdown.
What the fuck is Dillon playing at? Is he serious about getting to know his brother? Did I genuinely mean so little to Dillon that our history doesn’t matter at all and that’s why he’s not mentioning we know one another? I shouldn’t care about that. Not if it means Reeve has a chance of getting to know his twin, but what kind of relationship will they have if it starts on a lie? Like I said to Audrey recently, a lie of omission is still a lie. The bigger issue is, I know something Dillon clearly doesn’t, and that knowledge could change everything. I need to keep my son away from him, at least until I investigate the situation and what it might mean.
I chew on the inside of my mouth, thoroughly confused and scared. My head is such a mess right now, and I don’t know what to do. Where to go from here. This is so bad.
“I would also really like it if you’d accept half of my inheritance,” Reeve says, and I’m a little surprised he brought that up already. We have talked about it, but I didn’t think he would mention it today. “It rightfully belongs to you.”
“I don’t want anything from that man,” Dillon hisses, digging his nails into his thighs. “And I don’t need his money anymore.”
Reeve gulps. “It’s not just money. There’s some property and shares in Studio 27. You don’t have to decide now. We can talk about it again.”
“I need to go,” Dillon says, standing abruptly.
He’s pissed; that much is clear. Relief threads through me as I just want him out of my house. At some point, I’m going to have to speak to him, but not now. Not when I can’t think straight. I can’t leave it for too long though, in case he decides to tell Reeve, but I need at least twenty-four hours to try to wrap my head around the implications of today’s monstrous reveal.
“You can’t stay a little longer?” Reeve’s disappointment is clear on his face, and I want to cry.
Fuck you, fate.
Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.
“We have time booked in the studio, and the guys are already waiting on me. But let’s meet up at the weekend, yeah?” Dillon steps in front of Reeve, his anger now firmly hidden behind a wall I’m accustomed with. “It was good meeting you.”
“I wish we hadn’t lost so many years.” Reeve stands, and the strained look of anguish on his face almost undoes me.
In a super surprising move, Dillon pulls Reeve into a hug. “We have plenty of time to catch up,” Dillon says, fixing me with an ugly sneer I haven’t seen in years.
All the blood in my body turns to ice as I stare at the man who still owns part of my heart. He—
“Daddy!” Easton bursts into the room, dashing toward Reeve. My heart stutters in my chest, and I can scarcely breathe over the knot of anxiety blocking my airwaves. “I made extra cookies for my sister. Look!” He holds out a napkin with two cookies as Reeve scoops him up into his arms.
“Yum.” Reeve chuckles as cookie crumbs sprinkle over his shirt when Easton waves his hand around.
“Who are you?” Easton asks, fixing his wide-eyed blue gaze on Dillon.
I clamp a trembling hand over my mouth as Dillon stares at Easton. His intense penetrative gaze is one I’m familiar with, and I don’t like how it’s fixed on my son. I want to move, to take Easton out of the room, but shock has rendered me immobile. I can’t speak over the horror of this moment. Where the fuck is Angela? I’m going to string her up for letting E out of her sight.
“This is your Uncle Dillon,” Reeve says when Dillon doesn’t reply.
“Cool! Is he coming to my birthday party tomorrow?” Easton innocently asks, and I feel the ground opening underneath me.
“Tomorrow?” Dillon says, finally finding his voice. It sounds off, and goose bumps sprout along my arms. “I thought your birthday was in June?”
67
Oh fuck! He already suspects, and now he knows. Panic whirls through my veins, and it’s a miracle I don’t puke on the spot.
Reeve chuckles. “The media thinks it’s June because we manipulated them into believing that, but he was actually born five weeks earlier.”
I can almost see the cogs churning in Dillon’s brain as he calculates the dates. “Why would you do that?” he asks, sounding and looking dazed.
Intense pressure sits on my chest, and I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I can only sit and watch it unfold in complete and utter shock.
“We’ve had issues with the paparazzi in the past,” Reeve says. “The last thing we want is them hounding us every year on Easton’s birthday. This way, we get to celebrate without them breathing down our necks. Win-win.”
Dillon stares at me, genuine shock splayed across his face, and I can’t take this a second longer. I stumble to my feet. “I don’t feel so hot,” I tell Reeve. “I need the bathroom.” I don’t wait for him to reply, rushing out of the room.
I barely make it to the nearest bathroom in time. Crouching over the toilet bowl, I vomit repeatedly while tears stream down my face. I retch until there is nothing left in my stomach, and it mirrors the pained hollowness I feel everywhere. I flush the toilet and slump against the wall, running my hands back and forth across my swollen belly, struggling to understand how my life could be so perfect one second and then everything falls to shit the next.
None of the heartbreak I’ve endured in the past comes close to how I’m feeling right now. I stand to lose everything, and I’m beyond terrified. Fresh panic slaps me in the face, and I clamber to my feet. I shouldn’t have left the room! What if Dillon has said something to Reeve?
I rinse out my mouth and wash my hands. I’m drying them on the towel when the door opens, and Dillon slips silently into the room.
My heart thrashes frantically around my chest. “You can’t be in here!” I shriek.
“We need to talk,” he says in a clipped tone. His lips pull into a half-sneer as he flips the lock on the door. “Don’t worry about your precious husband. He’s upstairs getting cleaned up. Easton threw up over both of them, and I said I’d come to check on you.”
“Oh my God. Is Easton okay?”
“He probably ate too many cookies though Reeve thinks he might have the same tummy bug you have.” He barks out a harsh laugh. “Except we both know why you’re feeling sick.”
“Why are you here?” I cross my arms over my chest, as if that will ward off the trembling stealing over my body.
“I came to meet my twin.”
“Why? And quit with the bullshit, Dil.” His scathing tone tells me all I need to know. Whatever that was in the living room was all an act.