This time there’s no spike or even glimmer of hope. “She hasn’t answered her phone and she hasn’t called back. What makes you think she’s going to stand in the same room and talk to me?” The mental image of Lauren turning her back or brushing past me while I try to plead my case makes me curl back into a ball.

“Since when are you afraid to talk to your own daughter?”

The answer, of course, is since yesterday when she found out all the things I kept from her, but I can’t even bring myself tosay so. “I’m planning to give her a few more days to calm down. Maybe she’ll be ready to listen then.”

“That’s an awful plan.” Dee’s voice drops to a whisper and I picture her hiding in her office off the kitchen because Lauren and Jake are communing nearby. “She could decide to go back to New York early. Or think you aren’t taking her reaction seriously.”

As if.

She lists other reasons why I’m making a mistake by not rushing over, but I can’t listen to all the things that could make the situation even worse. Bottom line, I don’t have the courage to try to force Lauren to accept my apology or listen to an explanation. I hit the salient points yesterday and she rejected them completely.

“Do you remember how long it took her to get over finding out Santa Claus wasn’t real?” I ask. “I have just unloaded an emotional bombshell that would leave anyone reeling on someone who doesn’t respond all that well to even agoodsurprise like a marriage proposal.”

“But...”

“Really, Dee. I appreciate your concern. Your friendship means the world to me. But there’s no point in trying to force her to listen to anything right now.”

“But...”

“I’ll talk to you later. Thanks for trying to help.” I hang up before she can say anything else.

A moment later a text dings in from Dee, who has been known to like to have the last word.You are making a big mistake.

I try not to think about the fact that she could be right.

?I’m still lying on the couch hours later when someone knocks on the door. I burrow deeper into the cushions, cover my ears, and try to ignore it.

When it finally stops Jake strides into the living room andover to the couch, where I’m curled up in a fetal position. “You’re not dressed and your door wasn’t locked.”

“So?”

“So, I could have been an ax murderer.”

“At the moment dying doesn’t seem like such a horrible idea.” I hate the pitiful whine in my voice. But I’m beyond pretense. Iamboth pitiful and whiny.

“You live here alone and you don’t bother to lock your door.”

I just look at him. Nags Head has gotten bigger and more crowded but most of us old-timers still don’t bother locking our doors. At the moment I have much larger problems than someone wandering by and deciding to rob or dispatch me. I don’t have the energy to point out that the inn where he’s staying doesn’t lock its doors, either.

“Fine.” He runs a hand through his hair and leaves it standing up in that way that is still both attractive and endearing. Which reminds me that I haven’t looked in a mirror once during the last twenty-four hours and am undoubtedly the opposite of attractiveandendearing. “I understand that yesterday was a big shock for everyone. I am sorry the truth came out the way it did. But I’m not sorry it came out.”

Tears gather and prick my eyelids. I attempt to blink them away, but I don’t argue. I’m too tired. And as much as I wish he’d given me that extra day, I can’t fool myself into thinking the outcome would have been any better. I mean, how do you start that conversation? “By the way, sweetheart, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you about that father I told you was dead”?

No. As much as I wish I could lay the blame at Jake’s feet, I’m the one who bungled everything so badly. In the end we’re both getting what we deserve. I have been banished and he is finally getting to know his daughter.

“So.” I straighten and swallow around a lump of pain and regret. “I hear you’re spending time together.”

His smile is a quick flash of white teeth. “She’s lovely. And so smart and strong willed. And I like Spencer. I’m glad she’s chosen someone who appreciates her.” The smile fades. “But she’s so hurt and angry. You need to talk to her and find a way to help her through this.”

“I would think you’d be thrilled to have her to yourself.”

“I probably would be if she weren’t in so much pain.” He shakes his head. “I was so furious when I decided to come here. I thought I’d sweep in, right some pretty big wrongs, and claim my daughter.”

“And you’ve done that.” I can barely get the words out.

“Yes.” He runs his hand through his hair again. “Only she’s miserable. She feels completely betrayed.”

“Of course she does.” I, who always sought to protect her, have done this to my child. “I’d give anything to make her feel better. But she’s not answering my calls or returning them. She doesn’t want to talk to me.”