“Just keep your mouth shut,” he snapped.
I bristled. I didn’t expect him to be sweet and understanding, but he didn’t have to be an asshole, either.
“I don’t think it’s right.” I squeezed the phone tight.
“What? That Jake has a really good suit and a few questions?” he snarled. “Look, he has an okay thing going. I’m not going to pretend it’s super fantastic for him, but it’s not shit. And knowing the truth would be illuminating the shit.”
“I think he needs to know,” I pressed, my palms suddenly sweaty. “I don’t like keeping it from him.”
“Is this about Jake, Brenna? Or is it about you?” Saxon asked, his voice rough. “Because it sounds like it has to do with your goody-goody conscience. I’m sure you made some inane promise to never lie again, but you made a promise to me first, and I expect you to keep it.”
“I will.” I promised Saxon that I wouldn’t tell that he and Jake had the same father, and I wouldn’t. “Do you have any intention of telling him?”
“No. And now, I have a girl to try to get into my infamous backseat. So this conversation is over.”
He clicked off, and I was left in the quiet of my bedroom. I pulled out my school books and tried to get to work on my homework, but this was nagging at me, and I couldn’t shake it.
Chapter Nineteen
I suddenly felt tense with Jake, and I had this terrible fear that I would just blurt the truth out. I imagined every possible reaction from him. I imagined him furious at me for keeping it from him. I imagined him getting emotional, being elated, shrugging it off. But mostly, I imagined his anger. Because that seemed the most likely.
I was able to put it out of my mind when I shopped with my mother, mostly because Mom was such a focused shopper, it was hard not to concentrate when she was in charge.
She swept into the formal section of Lord and Taylor like she owned it, and began picking up dresses, basically anything my size that was remotely pretty, then hustled me into the carpeted, big-mirrored dressing room and started pushing things at me.
I came in and out of the dressing room in dresses that were clinging and billowy, turquoise and ruby, sequined and embroidered, beautiful and…not so much.
Mom was ruthless and quick, ordering me in and out of things with such incredible speed, I actually felt like I was getting a workout.
Finally I tried on the one.I knew it the minute I shimmied into it. It was icy blue, with silver embroidery on the fitted bodice. It had a sweetheart neckline and a big, ballroom-style tulle skirt. It felt like it floated around me. It was big and kind of over-the-top, but I loved it, and Mom did, too.
“That’s it,” she said decisively. “Do you love it? I can tell from your face what you’re going to say.”
“I love it.” I sighed, and I felt that dreamy happiness that only a really fabulous, completely extravagant princess-style ballgown can create in a girl.
“You can use your silver heels from Paris.” Mom took one more long look, then hurried me out of it, and helped me hang up the discards as she chattered. “We’re not going to find anything sexier here. But I’d like to look at some jewelry, too. Since it’s sleeveless, you’ll have a lot of open neck space. And we want something pretty for your hair. What are you thinking of doing to it?”
Mom and I chatted right up to Cinnabon, where we got deliciously gooey buns and ate them giddily. We were having such a good time, I took a chance on talking to her about my Jake dilemma. Not with any actual details, of course. Mom had an ironclad memory, and I was never sure when something I said to her would come back to bite me in the ass.
“Mom, I have a problem.” I took another sticky bite of cinnamon bun.
She took a sip of her soda, wiped the sugar off of her fingers and looked right at me. “What is it, Bren?”
“I have a friend. And I know a big secret about him. One that could be really important. But it’s not really my business to tell it. Only, I don’t like keeping this secret from him. And the reason I can’t tell…” And then it got too convoluted.
“Tell me, Bren.” Her voice was wise as an Oracle’s.
“Jake lives with the man who is his step-dad, but he doesn’t know it. His mother was pregnant with another guy’s baby, and she married Jake’s step-dad without telling him.” I took a deep breath. “And Jake’s real dad is also Saxon’s.”
Mom was less surprised than I expected. “They have the exact same frame.” She nodded. “And their facial shape is the same. If it wasn’t for their coloring, everyone would realize that they’re related.”
It dawned on me that my mother was trained to see the lines and patterns that connected everything. I had never really noticed it because I was so close to the two of them.
“So Saxon is the one who told me, and their father told him. But Jake’s been in the dark all this time. And he knows things are weird, but he can’t figure it out. And I don’t think his step-dad knows.”
“I doubt that, sweetie.” Mom took a long sip. “Just because Jake’s step-father doesn’t say anything doesn’t mean he doesn’t know. Lylee mentioned Jake’s mother when we were in France. Apparently they all had reputations for being pretty wild, and they were both very young mothers. There was probably a lot more going on than anyone realizes.”
“Oh.” It was all I could think to say. I’d been thinking of this from the perspective of a friend or girlfriend. But I hadn’t really wrapped my head around it as the problem of a son or daughter. Once that dawned on me, I realized that there was going to be more to the entire situation because parents always kept their kids in the dark about certain things in order to protect them. That’s all there is to it.
By the time Mom and I were home that night, I didn’t feel like calling Jake or Saxon. I unzipped the bag that hung on the back of my closet door, a long white bag that held my blue dress. I pressed my face to the soft tulle of the skirt and sighed. Like a girl. Long and contented. I was thrilled that I could appreciate small happinesses. Like the most incredible dress in the world.
My phone rang, and it took me a minute to fumble it out of my purse, so by the time I had it in my hand, there was no time to check and see who was calling.
“Hey Bren!” It was Kelsie.
“Hey! I just got the most beautiful dress for Jake’s prom. Please come over later and love it with me.” I pressed my face against it again.
“Ohmygod!” she squealed. “Tell me what it looks like.”
Then Kelsie and I spent a good fifteen minutes talking about my fabulous dress, right down to the tiny crystal flower centers.
“I have to see it,” she said finally. “Listen, it’s so weird you got that dress, because I was calling about prom; Chris has this good friend whose date ditched him and he’s, like, heartbroken. Anyway, he’s had this little crush on you, and I was wondering if you might be willing to go with him? Please?”
“Um, when is it?” I felt a little nervous. Kelsie had a big heart. A big, big heart, and she tended to see people in their best lights. Like a really creepy, moody guy could be, in Kelsie’s eyes, a misunderstood sweetie. It was refreshing and admirable. Unless you are the crushed-on blind date of said psycho/sweetheart. “And do I know this guy?”
“It’s Nate. From the Folly show. Remember Nate? And it’s in three weeks.”
I did remember Nate, and I sighed with relief as I called up the memory of him. A genuinely nice guy with a lot of tattoos and facial metal. And, since Vo Tech’s prom was in two weeks, I could go as long as Mom said yes. Which she would, no question, since it was technically ‘dating other guys.’ I grinned to myself when I imagined her jaw drop over Nate’s neck tattoos.