His Secret Family, My Public Shame

ra

from the screen. My thumb hovered over the red decline button. Denying t

afford th

answer, pressing the phone to my ear with

ntic rush of perfectly feigned concern. "Your mother sa

ust a few blocks from the restaurant. And yes, it was strange. F

econd of dead air where I could practically h

ck to the smooth, reassuring cadence I knew so well. "She's thousand

flat. "I'm just being emotional

aiting for you

ow just noise. "You too," I whispered, and ended t

aying in my mind, now tainted and grotesque. Every shared laugh, every tender touch, every promis

dimly lit, exclusive restaurant, they were all there at a corner table, a perfect portrait of a powerful, loving family. My father, Senator W

he said, pullin

ch as his familiar scent of sandalwood and expensive cologne fi

his brow furrowing. "Ar

I murmured, slidi

gala, and my wedding. Our wedding. They discussed flower arrangements and guest lists whi

t my reflection. The woman looking back at me was a stranger. Her eyes were hollow, her face pale. The ha

hey would twist my words, call me hysterical, and maybe even try to have me committed. They had

roof. Hard, un

y life. I smiled. I laughed at my father's jokes. I even of

heard the steady sound of his breathing from the master bedroom. My heart hammered against my r

eful with his things, so private. I had always resp

ed. A brilliant congressman wouldn't use something obvious like a birthday or an anniversary. It had

ced before, clearly taken when he was a baby. It was turned slightly away, almost

rk that Finn was four. This date was more than five years

led as I typed the

d and unlocked, rev

It wasn't the emails or the files that ma

on a picnic blanket in a field of wildflowers. They were all dressed in coordinating shades of blue

et family. And I was just the li