My father.
Tessa’s too.
My adopted sister wasn’t only my adopted sister.
“How?”
“My mother was with Dad before he met Mom.”
“Before me?”
“Yes.”
“And he had a daughter.”
Tessa nodded.
“You.”
“Yes.”
I laughed once because the alternative was crying.
“And he had a daughter.”
“He had another child and never told Mom?” “No.”
“You knew him?”
“Yes. Not well, but I knew him.”
“So while I was waiting for him to call, you knew where he was.”
“For a while. He came and went.”
“Did he leave me for your mother?”
“No. My mom didn’t want him back. She wanted him to act like my father.”
“And did he?”
“For a while. He never stayed anywhere for long.”
“So he left me and went to you.”
“He came around more after he left you and Mom. Then he left me too.”
I stared at her.
“He abandoned both of us.”
She nodded.
I lowered myself into a chair.
“Did he love your mom?”
“I don’t know. I think Dad loved whatever life he was standing in at the time.”
That answer hurt because it sounded true.
I looked at the envelopes.
“How did Mom find out?”
Tessa pointed toward them.
I opened the first letter.
“Nicole,
You don’t know me, but we need to talk about Alex.”
I stopped reading.
“Michelle told Mom about Dad in a letter?”
“That was the first one.”
The next lines were worse.
“I have a daughter. Her name is Tessa. Alex is her father.”
My grip tightened.
“Mom found out about you like this?”
“Yes.”
“How old were you?”
“Almost ten.”
I continued reading.
Michelle had been sick for months, and she had no close family who could take Tessa if she died.
I lowered the letter.
“She just wanted Mom to know you existed.”
“At first.”
“And Dad?”
“Oh, he was gone again.”
“Of course he was.”
