“Evan.”
One word.
My husband turned.
Grant’s voice remained calm.
“I suggest you answer her.”
Evan swallowed.
“It’s complicated.”
I nodded.
“Of course it is.”
I started toward the upper terrace.
Evan stepped in front of me.
“Don’t.”
That was the moment my remaining doubt disappeared.
“You lied about the party.”
“Brooke—”
“You lied about working tonight.”
“Listen to me.”
“You brought another woman here and called her your wife.”
“Lower your voice.”
I stared at him.
Then I smiled.
That frightened him more than yelling would have.
“You’ve spent months deciding exactly what I’m allowed to know. You don’t get to decide anything else tonight.”
I moved around him.
Grant followed.
Evan stood frozen behind us.
We had taken maybe six steps when Grant spoke quietly.
“I know who she is.”
I stopped.
“Tell me.”
He looked directly at me.
“Her name is Paige.”
“All right.”
There was something in his face.
Something terrible.
“Paige Holloway.”
I stared at him.
The surname registered first.
Then the meaning.
“Holloway?”
Grant nodded once.
“My daughter.”
I actually forgot how to breathe.
“Your daughter?”
“She lives in Chicago. She told me she was visiting friends this weekend.”
I looked back at Evan.
He had not followed us.
He stood beside the dock watching.
His face was almost gray.
Grant saw him too.
And I understood something.
Evan hadn’t merely brought his m.i.s.t.r.e.s.s to his boss’s party.
He had been secretly seeing his boss’s daughter.
