“Soda water sounds good, Dad. But I was just heading into town.”

  Mom leaned in and didn’t try to hide her whisper. “For a pizza.”

  “Pizza?” Dad’s eyebrows raised. “I haven’t had a pizza in a long time. I wonder if Potto’s Pizza is still the place to go in town.”

  “It is,” I smiled. “Lisa told me it’s the best. Well, it’s the only place in town – but they don’t deliver.”

  My father grabbed my hand. “Come, let’s have a drink. We’ll get someone to bring us an old-fashioned Potto’s Pizza.” My dad had spent his summers in Laketown and lately seemed to be a sucker for nostalgia.

  The screened-in veranda ran the width of the main cottage. White wicker furniture with nautical stripes arranged for conversations and sunset viewing was interspersed throughout. Ceiling fans spun lazily above us. The Yates’ veranda had been featured in magazines and most of the cottages that were built in that era had verandas inspired by ours.

  “Come, Bron. Have a seat.” My father patted one of the cushions and took a seat on one of the chairs next to it. I smiled as I saw the glass of scotch, ready and waiting for him.

  Mom sat beside Dad and one of their house staff, an older woman named Minerva appeared. The experienced staff knew how to monitor our actions and be seen when required.

  “Mrs. Yates, would you like your cocktail now?” Minerva asked.

  “Yes. And Minerva, could you get Bronwyn one too? And I’ll take a glass of soda water.”

  Minerva nodded and disappeared into the house.

  “Mom? A gin and tonic?” The wicker creaked as I rested into the back of the love seat.

  My mom leaned in conspiratorially, “I’ll drink yours. We can’t have the staff talking.”

  I sighed. Why couldn’t I have a baby shower and scream to the world that I had gotten knocked up? That the Yates fortune was going to go to a bastard baby with no father. I had lived a charmed life, I was well aware of that, but the past four months I’d felt the shame of my parents and was getting tired of it. “They’re going to find out soon enough.”

  “Not if you’re smart about it…” Her eyes darted behind me, and she eased into the chair beside my father.

  Minerva had returned with the drinks and set them on the table along with nautical rope coasters.

  “Cheers,” Mom held up her glass and implored me with her eyes to play along in front of Minerva.

  I picked up the glass with the lime on the side, squeezed it, and held it up as Minerva walked away. She had been with the family for years; I was pretty sure that she wouldn’t gossip about our business. There weren’t a lot of jobs in Laketown and working for our family was one of the most sought-after positions. At least, that’s what I thought.

  “Minerva.” Dad took a sip and then called out.

  She returned. “Is everything alright?”

  “Can you order us a pizza?”

  “Sir?”

  My dad laughed. “Potto’s Pizzeria, the biggest one you can get. Bronwyn, what would you like on it?”

  I heard mom inhale beside me. If she could’ve shot fire from her eyes, she would’ve burned my father to a crisp. He was clueless and it made me smile.

  “Pepperoni and cheese.” I already felt guilty.

  The skin beside his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Just like when you were little.” He nodded at Minerva. “A pepperoni and cheese pizza – get it here as fast as possible. Whatever it takes for my Bronwyn.”

  “Of course, Mr. Yates.”

  While we waited for the pizza my father regaled us with stories from the golf course. When I was younger, his play-by-play recollection of every hole on the course was the most boring thing I’d ever heard. Today, I was thankful for the useless banter. I nodded and smiled and added in a few comments about each hole.

  “I’m playing at the Lake Casper Club tomorrow,” he added at the end of his story.

  I held my breath. Calliope. I had completely forgotten that my father’s pride and joy was sitting at the marina - wounded. The Lake Casper Club was an island course. He was going to have to take a boat to get there and the missing showpiece from the boathouse would be obvious.

  “That’s cool, Dad. I heard the course is in good shape.” I hoped that my voice wasn’t as shaky as it sounded in my head. I had no idea what shape the course was in.

  “We have had a lot of rain,” he mused.

  I had to spin the story, he was going to find out one way or another. “The marina guy…” I pretended not to remember Floyd’s name. “Dropped by and picked up one of the boats. He said something about routine maintenance.”

  “White mustache?” Dad asked.

  “Yeah, that’s the one.”

  The screen door slid open, and we turned to see the house manager. I was thankful for the interruption, hoping it was the end of the Calliope discussion.

  “I hear someone else was at the Lake Casper club today.” Our house manager was one of the few Yates’ family staff that knew about my baby. She had been in charge of coordinating the redesign of my bunkie to include a nursery and had insisted that the designers, a couple of local women, sign a nondisclosure agreement.

  It all seemed so excessive. Growing up, I had wanted to be a famous model. Now, all I wanted was to be normal. What good was having all this fortune if I couldn't truly be me?

  My mom turned to face me. "Were you at the club today?"

  I took a sip of the soda water, letting it fizz in my throat before I answered her. "I met Tess and a few other friends for lunch."

  The ice cubes rattled in my mom's glass as she polished off her gin and tonic. Minerva appeared out of nowhere to take the glass and soon returned with another duo of drinks for us.

  "Bronwyn, you're going to have to get used to keeping a lower profile."

  My dad crossed and uncrossed his legs, then cleared his throat. "Joan, this is something that has to be dealt with. We can't keep Brownyn locked up here while the lawyers figure out what to do."

  My parents had been in the Bahamas for the last couple of months, so my dad and I hadn’t had the chance to sit down and discuss the baby. It seemed a touch ironic that it was the person not in the Yates’ lineage, my mom, who was most interested in protecting the fortune. My dad was the lone child of his generation, and after Joan had a terrible pregnancy with me, had disappointed his parents by only having a female heir.

  But what's worse than a female heir?

  A female heir who is pregnant with a bastard child.

  My mom squeezed lime into her drink. "I just want what's best for Bronwyn."

  I tried not to laugh. What we were doing was not, in any way, what was best for me. My stomach growled and I wondered when the pizza was going to arrive.

  "We will get it sorted out, Bron," my dad said. "It's just…" he hesitated and then continued, "complicated."

  We were interrupted by the thwack of helicopter blades coming over the horizon, low and loud. “Pizza’s here." My dad jumped from his seat.

  "You sent the helicopter to get the pizza?" The thought had crossed my mind, but I’d dismissed it as absurd.

  Dad shook his empty glass. "Well, none of us could drive. And Minerva had to stay and make the drinks."

  "Dad," I was exasperated. "I could have driven into town."

  His eyes flashed. "No, you couldn't."

  There was usually a staff complement of at least ten anytime my grandparents were at the cottage, and even more when everyone was here. The unexpected arrival of my parents left us with a skeletal crew that currently consisted of Minerva, the house manager, no drivers, and a helicopter pilot.

  While Dad went to meet the world’s most expensive pizza delivery boy, a softer side of my mom showed up. “How are you feeling?"

  "Well, I threw up today." Just the thought of my salmon salad lunch made me queasy all over again.

  My mom nodded and patted my knee. "With you, my face broke out, I put on sixty pounds, and I was sick as a dog for two months straight."

  Was my mom opening up to me? I felt uncomfortable. This was out of our wheelhouse. I put on a smile. "I have a lot to look forward to then."

  My mom laughed. "Well, you're still beautiful, so maybe you're having a boy." I heard voices approaching and my dad reappeared wielding a giant pizza box and a smile. Minerva wasn't too far behind him with placemats, linen napkins, and a proper pizzeria pizza stand.

  I felt like I had been transported back in time. Before I started modeling, and before my mom started worrying about getting old, we used to do fun stuff.

  Minerva placed a slice on each of our plates and returned with a pitcher of lemonade, bottles of seltzer, and of course one more scotch, and one more gin and tonic. After she left, I turned to my mom and laughed. "You're going to feel those tomorrow."

  She smiled. Her words were starting to get a bit slurred and she held up the glass. "I'm doing this for you, you know."

  Her martyrdom was cute but made me angry. She wasn't hiding the fact that I was pregnant to help me. She was hiding it to help the family.

  I took a bite of pizza and my eyes rolled as the cheesy deliciousness melted in my mouth. My dad folded his piece in half and groaned even louder than I did when he took a bite.

  "I wonder if Potto's pizzeria was around when Granny was young?" I asked.

  My dad finished chewing and scrunched his forehead. "I think Potto’s opened when I was about five years old." He had just celebrated his 55th birthday, so that meant the pizza parlor was at least 50 years old.

  My dad finished his slice and dabbed his mouth with his napkin. "Bronwyn, your mother and I love you. I know this has been hard on you, but we will figure it out, I promise. You're just going to have to be patient."

  I smoothed the linen napkin over the skirt of my dress. "I know it’s complicated, Dad. I wish it didn't have to be this way."

  He cleared his throat. "Bronwyn, when I went to get the pizza, the house manager told me something disturbing.”

  Shit.

  That could be one of two things. Calliope or Dylan.

  “She said that someone dropped you off at the dock today." His tone was matter-of-fact.

  My heart fell into my stomach and landed amongst the pizza. My thoughts churned and I wondered just how much the house manager saw.

  I tried to brush it off. "It was a water taxi."

  Dad narrowed his lips and stared at me. "Water taxi?" he asked doubtfully.

  I took another bite of pizza and nodded. I didn't know what to say, and even though the pizza wasn't sitting well, it seemed easier to eat than to explain.

  "Why didn’t you take your boat?" My dad crossed his legs and folded his hands on his knee. My boat was a nice bowrider but showing up to the club in my boat would’ve been like arriving at a ball in a pickup truck.

  The lie came out easily. "I went to lunch with Tess, in her boat, and she drank too much Prosecco."

  My dad was quiet. The air hung heavy between us.

  "You haven't seen that Moss boy, have you?"

  Moss boy. He couldn't even bring himself to say his name.

  I glanced into the cottage where the house manager was typing furiously on her phone. Had she seen Dylan kiss me on the end of the dock?

  "He was driving the water taxi."

  "Bronwyn," my mom gasped. "You were specifically told to stay away from him. He cannot know that he is the father."

  I crossed my arms across my chest and winced at an unexpected pain. My breasts were feeling full, and my nipples were tender.

  "Are you ready to admit that I haven’t been lying? That Dylan--"

  My dad interrupted, "The paternity test will confirm it."

  I wanted to scream. We had been through this already. "Dad, I told you that it's him. There is no way it's anyone else."

  "Well, Bronwyn. We know what you and your girlfriends get up to here in the summer when no one's around. And trust me, it would be better if it were one of the Lake Casper Club boys."

  I set my plate on the table so hard it clattered. "For a minute, it felt like you were turning into a good dad."

  "Do not speak to your father like that," Mom hissed.

  I stood and put my hands on my hips. "Do not talk to him how Mom? He just all but called me a whore. His own daughter. We are hiding something from the father of my child. And while I get it, I don't like it."

  “Oh, please,” Mom muttered. “The only reason that boy would want to be involved is for the money.”

  My mind flashed to Dylan’s smile and the way he carried me across the rocky gravel. He wasn’t an opportunist. Sure, he liked to party and play hockey and drink beer, but he also cared about people. And even though he’d never said the words, I knew that he cared about me.

  Probably because I cared about him.

  “That’s a pretty big assumption, Mom. And a shitty one.”

  My mom pushed the untouched pizza slice away from her. “You’re sweet and you’re young. Trust me, I know how the world works.”

  “Why is it so hard to believe that there’s a man out there who likes me for me? That this child…” I smoothed my hand over the front of my belly, “could have an amazing father who honestly cares about what’s best for his daughter.” I glared at my father.

  “You’re out of line.” Mom stood and pointed at me. “If you want to be a Yates, you will do what your father tells you to do, and right now, he’s telling you to stay away from that boy. To keep that baby a secret until we tell you otherwise. Got it?”

  I looked to my father, hoping that he would see just how crazy the whole situation was, and just how crazy his wife was behaving, but instead, he doubled down. He stood and pointed to the door. “Leave. Go to your bunkie and think about someone besides yourself for once. Think about the family.”

  I couldn’t believe it. “You’re sending me to my room?”

  “It’s hardly a room, Bronwyn. I’m sending you to the bunkie that just had a two hundred-thousand-dollar renovation to hide your mistake.

  I had never felt so trapped, but I didn’t know what to do. When my mom stood next to my father, the two of them a united front, I did what any spoiled child would do. I snatched the pizza box and stormed out.

  I hadn’t been a rebellious teenager. I hadn’t slept around that summer. They were wrong about me, and they were wrong about Dylan.

  Six

  Dylan

  Wednesday morning practices were the worst. That’s because they were our earliest, and I’m no morning person. I’d be happier if every practice was at midnight – a vampire league.

  The guys were usually tired and the early morning practices a little quieter than the evening ones, but I could see that Tanner wasn’t himself. He was a quiet guy, to begin with, but he hadn’t said anything at all since he arrived at the rink. The defenseman, who was only eighteen but towered over the rest of the guys on the team, had been staring at the rubber mats on the floor.

  “What’s up, dude?” I sat down next to him on the bench while the rest of the team filed out of the dressing room and headed to the ice.

  He inhaled deeply and then stood. “It’s nothing.”

  I should’ve let it go. But there were two reasons I couldn’t. One, I was selfish and wanted the team to play well. The big defenseman in front of me clearly had something on his mind, other than hockey. And two, I really cared about all the guys on the team. Every single one of them. Especially since that cocky bastard Gunnar Lockwood left.

  “Dude.” I glanced around to make sure all of the players had left. “There’s something on your mind. I can see it.”

  Tanner tried to push past me, but I stepped in his way. “You’re angry.”

  It was a statement.

  “No shit. Mossy.” At least he wasn’t angry enough to call me by my real name. A nickname meant I hadn’t thoroughly pissed him off yet.

  “Good,” I growled.

  Tanner knitted his brow at me. “It’s good that I just found out my girlfriend is cheating on me?”

  He was an eighteen-year-old hockey star. He would get over it.

  The door opened and our assistant coach, Leo stuck his head in. “You guys coming?”

  “Yeah, Coach.” Tanner slipped his mouthguard onto his teeth, determined to end the conversation.

  “We’re just going to be a minute, Coach.” It still felt weird calling one of my former teammates Coach.

  Leo looked between Tanner and me and nodded. “I’ll tell Coach Covington you’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  The door closed and Tanner took out his mouthguard. “What the hell, Dylan?”

  There it was. My name. He was pissed.

  “Where do you feel your anger?” I asked.

  Tanner squinted at me and gave me a dirty look. “What?”

  I slapped him on the chest. “Where is your anger?”

  “I don’t fucking know.” He shook his head and tried to step around me. I sidestepped and stood in front of him and got in his face.

  “Tell me.”

  I was the captain and except for one season, had been a Laketown Otter for four years. This new guy knew his place on the roster and would never dream of talking back to me. Unless I pushed him, which is what I was doing.

  “Tell you what, Dylan? I don’t get the question. If you don’t get out of my face, you’re going to be the one getting the punch reserved for the asshole banging my girlfriend.”

  His dull eyes had turned fiery.

  “What’s his name?” I knew I was pushing it.

  “Some rich prick named Robbie.”

  I picked up a puck from the bench and held it in front of Tanner’s face. “Today. This puck is named Robbie.” I shoved it into his glove. “Got it?”

  The side of his lips turned up and I could see the lightbulb go off above his head. His eyes flickered as his anger transferred from me to the puck. “Send this puck through the fucking glass. Got it?”

  I took a step back. Tanner tossed the puck into the air, caught it, and then with the arm of an American League pitcher, threw the puck at the concrete wall. I ducked reflexively as the puck ricocheted and landed on the bench. We stood for a moment admiring the black mark it left on the wall.