Finding Scott Hauser’s home address shouldn’t be a problem.

Nora didn’t need to know he was poking around.

28

“I’m listening,” said Ava.

She’d stopped in her tracks at David’s claim that his private investigator knew where to find Jayne. She turned back to the two men, who’d stood up from the outdoor table as she’d stalked away. Looking for deception in their faces, she stared from one man to the other.

She didn’t see it.

“They got on a plane at three A.M. this morning,” David said as Glen nodded in agreement. “I’ll tell you where they were headed as soon as you hear me out. I have more I need to say.”

Ava’s heart raced, and she gripped the strap of her bag, taking a hesitant step toward the men. “What do you need to say?”

“You need to hear my side of the story.”

Anger ripped through her. “No, I don’t. You’ve already admitted you were a deceptive asshole to my mother.”

“I was, and I understood it as soon as she left. I’m not looking for pity or an instant daughter. I’m looking for a little bit of grace for the wrongs I did to you girls and your mother. That’s all I want.” His eyes pleaded with her.

Curiosity got the better of her. “Make it fast. I want to know where Jayne went.” She sat back down in her chair, her spine stiff. The men exchanged a glance and took their seats. David looked relieved.

“I met your mother when she was waitressing in a bar in San Diego.”

Ava nodded. That much her mother had told her and Jayne. She’d said it’d been a brief relationship, and they’d gone their separate ways.

“When did you tell her you were married?” Ava asked.

He looked down at the table. “Not soon enough. My wife and I were separated at the time, and I was living in my own apartment. I didn’t know if we were going to be able to work it out. Not that it makes any difference now.”

You were on a break.

She kept her lips closed, glaring at him, remnants of a previous nasty breakup jolting through her mind. Her ex had also believed taking a pause to reevaluate a relationship was permission to sleep around.

“My kids were three and five.”

She blinked. I have siblings? Half siblings?

He gave a small smile. “I have a son and a daughter. You remind me of Kacey. She has the same low voice that makes me think of a singer in a smoky blues lounge.”

Her mother had always encouraged her to embrace her voice. It was one of the few distinctions between her and Jayne. When they were kids, Jayne would imitate it to pass herself off as Ava.

Ava had been in her midtwenties before she’d accepted her unique sound.

Is it possible that gene came from this man?

Watching him carefully, she relaxed her spine an inch. “Where are your kids now?”

“Both still live in San Diego. I have four grandkids.”

“Do they know about us?” she whispered.

“They do. They’re the ones who encouraged me to start looking. They’re curious about the two of you.” He paused. “My wife died a few years ago and I never told her about the affair. But a year ago I was having issues with depression and started to drink. I couldn’t get your mother’s last words to me out of my mind, and I finally confessed to my children. After some initial anger, they forgave me and said they were glad their mother never knew. Then they tried to help me find the two of you.”

“How’s the depression?” she asked. Is this where Jayne’s mental illness came from?

“Better. Some therapy and some meds and having a goal in life brought me around.” He frowned. “I take it your sister has long struggled with mental health issues?”

“Most of her life. I hang on by my fingertips most of the time. I swear the goal of not becoming my twin is what keeps me from falling over the edge.” She clamped her mouth shut, uncomfortable with the private fact she’d just shared. Pity filled his eyes and she looked away.

“I’m sorry about your mother,” he said softly. “Cancer took my wife, too.”

“It’s a brutal disease.”

“Absolutely.”

“Do you have any paperwork that proves you’re related to us?” Ava asked, knowing it was a pointless question; she’d doubt anything he produced.

His shoulders sank. “I have nothing. Not even pictures. I got rid of the few I had of us together.”

Because you were married.

“My mother never showed us any photos of you,” Ava stated. Part of her wanted to make this man hurt. “She said you passed through her life too fast.” He winced, and she had a spark of satisfaction.

“It was brief,” he agreed.

“The place for the father’s name on our birth certificates is blank.”

“I saw that. I have copies.”

“We were poor all our lives,” Ava said, twisting the knife she’d plunged in his chest. “My mother worked her butt off waiting tables and was promoted to restaurant manager to provide for us. Some days she didn’t eat so that we could.”

He closed his eyes. “I would have helped had I known.”

“Would you?” she said sharply.

“I would. We always had plenty.”

She exhaled, hating the thought of this man living the high life in San Diego. Probably in a big home with a pool. She could envision a young boy and girl playing in the water with him and his wife. One big happy family.