Eva Anderson adjusted the focus on her Nikon and took one final candid shot of the bride and groom sitting on a boulder and laughing, as friends and family circled around them, sharing the moment.

It was almost eight, the sky now full of light. But the couple had spoken their vows over two hours ago. They’d wanted a sunrise wedding at Desert Garden in Balboa Park, San Diego. And since they’d wanted it on the anniversary of their first date, Eva had found herself arriving with the small wedding party well before six a.m. on a Wednesday.

She’d come the day before to check out the specific location, and on the day of the wedding, she’d been able to integrate the charming cacti and other interesting plant life into the images. Now, as she started to pack her equipment away, she knew that she’d gotten some beautiful images. The couple, she was certain, would be thrilled.

“I can finish packing up if you want to go chat with the bride,” Marianne said. Eva’s part time assistant, Marianne also happened to be Eva’s best friend. “And then, please God, can we go find a Starbucks?” She ran her fingers through her short, white-blonde hair as she yawned. “I need caffeine administered intravenously.”

Eva laughed. “Sure.” Frankly, she could use some caffeine herself.

She left Marianne to the task, then headed to where the bride, Jill, now stood with her mother. “The wedding was lovely,” she said. “Thank you so much for trusting me with such important memories.”

“Are you kidding?” Jill said. “I saw your pictures from Bill Landry’s wedding and from my cousin Sarah’s. I wouldn’t have anyone else.”

“That’s so kind,” Eva said, pleased to the bone, but hoping she sounded professional and not giddy. She’d quit her graphic design job five years ago to take a chance at her own photography business. Some days she still couldn’t quite believe that she’d not only made a go of it, but that her little business was thriving and growing.

“We looked at your entire wedding portfolio online,” Jill’s mother added. “Such lovely work. You must really love weddings.”

“Weddings and baby portraits are my favorite things to shoot,” Eva told them honestly. “They both have a little bit of the fairy tale in them.”

“Happy endings,” Jill’s mother said, then stumbled a bit when her daughter hip-bumped her.

“New beginnings,” Jill countered, with a gooey-eyed look toward her shiny new husband.

“Both true, I think,” Eva added. She hadn’t been merely telling the bride what she wanted to hear. She truly loved shooting weddings. And though she wasn’t big on psychoanalyzing herself, she knew that one reason was that she mentally rewrote her own twisted fairy tale every time she heard those vows spoken.

Young and pregnant with a dead man’s child, Eva had been roped by the father she’d adored and respected into marrying a man she didn’t love. A nice enough man, sure, but not one she’d ever have a real future with, a real connection.

She thought of those years as she returned to her car where Marianne was loading the last of her lens cases and lighting kits. About the only good thing that came from her uninspired marriage to David was that Eva had finally grown a backbone. She’d filed for divorce on her twenty-fifth birthday, telling him that they both deserved more. He hadn’t argued—hell, he’d almost seemed relieved—and once the divorce was final, he’d disappeared from her life.

Elena, thank goodness, had only been four. She’d missed the man she’d believed was her father, but the memories soon faded and Elena and Eva became a team. Single mom and darling daughter.

It hadn’t been easy—especially since Eva’s father had very loudly disapproved of her decision to divorce, and had backed up that disapproval by withdrawing all financial support. But they’d made it work, and Eva had come out stronger for it. Elena, too, she thought. Because how could a young woman grow up right if her closest role model was a woman who settled?

True, there was no man in her life, but that was okay. She’d focused on graphic design and learning photography, first as a hobby and then as a career. And she’d made sure that Elena heard lots of stories about her real father, Tyree, a Marine who’d gone to serve his country and had lost his life in the process. A hero.

Except it wasn’t true.

Tyree hadn’t died in the Persian Gulf like her father had told her. As far as Eva knew, he hadn’t died at all.

But she’d believed her father’s lie for over twenty years. Hell, he’d gone to his grave knowing he’d fed her a lie, and she’d only learned the truth a month ago when she’d finally decided to tackle the pile of boxes from his estate that were taking up much needed space in her studio’s storage area.

She’d almost tossed the large envelope. It hadn’t been addressed to her. All it had said was Private. She still didn’t know what prompted her to open it. She still wasn’t sure if knowing the truth was a blessing or a curse. But there was no going back now.

She’d used her forefinger to loosen the old glue on the envelope, then dumped out the contents. Five sealed letters in Tyree’s scrawling handwriting, every single one sent from overseas, every one unopened. And she’d never before seen any of them.

And then, most insidious of all, she saw the single envelope without any writing on the outside. She’d opened it, then carefully unfolded the letter tucked inside. Elena had been sorting through another box, and though Eva didn’t remember dropping to her knees, she knew that she had because Elena had cried out and hurried to her side.

“Mom?” Even now, Eva could hear the fear in her twenty-three-year-old daughter’s voice. “Mom, what is it?”

In retrospect, maybe Eva shouldn’t have told her. But in the moment, she’d simply held the note out. The single piece of paper on which her father had written out the truth, front and back, in his cramped, shaky handwriting. A truth that revealed how he’d schemed and maneuvered after she’d tearfully confessed that she was pregnant. How he’d intercepted her mail.

How he’d flat out lied.

He’d told Elena that Tyree had died in combat. And because her father was a trusted military contractor with friends and connections at the highest levels, she knew he had access to the truth. And she’d believed him.

She’d been a fool.

He’d shifted the course of her life. All because he didn’t want her marrying a poor man without any surviving relatives and only a high school education. A man who’d grown up in New Orleans, the son of a dirt poor Cajun mother and a father who’d worked as a janitor in Savannah before moving to Louisiana.

So he’d killed Tyree off—at least as far as Eva was concerned. And urged her into the arms of David Anderson, a man she didn’t love and who didn’t love her.

The reality had not only tainted her memory of her father, it had shaken her to the core.

As a young girl, Eva had felt like a princess. Though her mother had died in childbirth, her doting father had filled her with so much love and affection that she’d never felt sorry for herself. On the contrary, she’d felt cherished. Or she had until she’d learned that she was pregnant at nineteen. She’d told her father—her first mistake—and she’d been swept into a brand new story where she was no longer cherished. Instead, she was the soiled black sheep, forced to endure the worst.

In love with one man, forced to marry another. About the only good that came out of their union was Elena. At least until Eva finally learned her own mind, grew a backbone, and filed for divorce.

Goddamn her father to hell.

And why he’d even written the truth was beyond her. Had he expected her to find it even though it wasn’t addressed to her? Was it his way of confessing his sins?

She didn’t know. She didn’t care.

All she knew now was the truth—and the unpleasant fact that she had to tell a not-really-dead man that he had a daughter.

“Is this going to be one of those days where we only communicate telepathically?”

Marianne’s words startled Eva from her thoughts and she turned to her friend. “Huh?”

Marianne nodded at the now packed rear of Eva’s Honda Pilot. “We work in silence. We move as one. We are the Borg.”

Eva rolled her eyes. “Sorry. Mind wandering.”

“We’ve done six weddings since you found that stupid letter, and each one has sent you into a tailspin.”

Eva’s brows rose. “I am not in a tailspin. Distracted, maybe. But that’s where I draw the line.”

Marianne closed the hatch and leaned against the car. “Have you decided what to do? I mean, I know you’re going to tell him, but have you decided how?”

Eva lifted a shoulder. “Not yet.”

“You’ve known for a month.” Marianne’s voice was soft, yet chiding. “It’s not going to get easier.”

“I know. It’s just—I don’t know.”

“Well, that’s clear.”

“Elena thinks I should just call him up. My romantic daughter thinks that he’ll hear my voice, fly to San Diego, and we’ll jump right in where we left off.” Her half-smile was a little sad. “Except with a full-grown daughter instead of a bun in the oven.”

“It might work out that way.” Considering Marianne’s usual brash snark, her voice was surprisingly gentle.

“Don’t you start, too. Elena’s still young enough to believe that love lasts forever. That people don’t change. Get married. Have lives.” He would have, she knew. Tyree would have a life. And while he deserved to know he had a daughter, she didn’t want to mess up what he had. And, maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want to stand outside his life and know that he was happy without her.

“Sure he has a life,” Marianne said. “But you need to tell him.”

“I know. I will.”

“Sooner rather than later,” Marianne said. Then hastily added, “That’s only fair,” when Eva narrowed her eyes at her friend.

“That’s my plan, too. We don’t have any shoots the rest of the week. I thought I’d see if I could track him down. Maybe see if I can get the military to give me his address.”

“That might take awhile.”

“Probably not that long.” Eva dug her keys out of the pocket of the black jeans she always wore to shoot weddings. Coupled with a blouse and a jacket, it was just nice enough to blend, but durable enough that she could crawl around on the ground if that got her the killer shot.

She opened the driver’s side door and climbed in, then waited for Marianne to get in on the passenger side.

“And a few more days won’t matter. He’s not exactly waiting by the phone pining for my call about a daughter he knows nothing about.”

Besides, the more days that passed, the more she could work on controlling her nerves.

“Well, yeah, but…”

“But what?” Eva asked, her hand stalling on the key before firing up the ignition.

“Nothing.”

“Oh, hell.” Eva sat back, the key forgotten. She knew her friend well. Every expression. Every tone in her voice.

And she knew trouble.

“What’s going on? And do not even try to pretend that I’m imagining things. Tell me.”

Marianne licked her lips, her pale skin seeming paler against the cream colored leather. “Right. Sure. Well, it’s just—okay, you know how you always told Elena that a girl needed to go after what she wanted? To not hold back or let other people decide for her?”

“Yes.” She heard the trepidation in her voice. It was a lesson she’d tried to impart after learning it herself and divorcing David. Now, she wondered if she was going to regret playing that particular parental card. “So?”

“It’s just that she got tired of holding back.”

Cold slithered up her spine. “What are you talking about? Elena? She’s in Austin checking out the city and the University of Texas campus.”

Elena had just graduated from UC San Diego, and she was taking a gap year while she decided where she wanted to apply to grad school. Her interest was in city planning, and the program in Austin appealed to her, so she’d decided to move there for the summer to see how she liked the town.

She saw the way Marianne looked at her, almost with pity. As if Eva was a foolish, foolish mother. “Hell. What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m sure she’s all over the college thing. She raved about Austin and UT before she headed out.”

“Uh-huh. And?”

“Yeah, um, about that and. I can’t really tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m your best friend.”

Eva gaped, replayed the words in her mind, and decided they still made no sense. “We really need to get you that caffeine. You’re babbling.”

Marianne sighed. “Do you remember when she was eight? Right after you divorced David? And you told me that she needed a confidante? An adult in her life who wasn’t a parent. A woman she could ask questions to about boys or whatever?”

“I remember…”

“Well, I can’t break the bond of confidence that you created.”

“I was very specific. That bond doesn’t apply if she’s going to get hurt.”

“Why would she?”

Eva glowered. “How would I know, since I don’t even know what she’s up to?”

Marianne only shrugged.

Determined, Eva reached into her purse and pulled out her phone.

“You’re calling her?”

“No,” Eva said. She’d realized that she’d never even tried to track Tyree down by normal means. She’d told herself she would ask the military because that gave her an out. A source for his location. No need for her to look on her own, right? She’d just contact the Marines after she got past the spate of weddings—today was the last on her books for three weeks—and returned from a much needed two-week vacation in Vancouver, where she was headed on Sunday.

So there’d been no need to pull up Google and search for Tyree Johnson—like she was doing right at that moment.

The results came up fast enough, and she gaped at the tiny screen on her phone.

“Austin. I knew it.” She skimmed the text. “He owns a bar. Apparently they’re doing some contest for a calendar because some local articles about it are the top three hits.”

She looked up, realizing she was smiling. “One of the articles says that the bar—The Fix on Sixth—is known for its excellent food and cocktail menu, most of which are Tyree’s invention.” She remembered that he loved to cook, and had dreamed of opening a restaurant. Looked like he’d managed to make the life he wanted.

And he’d made it without her—that was something she needed to keep in mind. The fact that he had a life. Probably a wife and kids, too. A full, happy life.

A life that she and Elena were about to mess up.

And if Elena really was there to see him, then Eva needed to hightail it out to Austin. Because the one thing Eva absolutely didn’t want was for the first—no, the only—man she’d ever loved to think she was a horrific bitch who purposefully kept the existence of his daughter hidden.

She exhaled a noisy breath. “Has she told him yet?”

Marianne’s expression turned even more pitiful. “Come on, girlfriend. I told you. Confidential.”

“Dammit, Marianne. Has. She. Told. Him?”

Her friend’s shoulders drooped. “No. She chickened out. But she told me she’s going to try again.”

“When.”

“Today.”

“Today?” Holy shit. “I’ll call the bar,” she babbled. “Explain who I am. Maybe he’s there. Maybe they’ll give me his number.”

Marianne tilted her head sideways, and Eva exhaled, then checked her watch.

“Or maybe I’m going to Austin.”