“Melanie, Douglas, this is Bridget, my partner,” Turner introduced her to his son, who was gawking at her as if she had horns, and to his bride, who was checking out Bridget’s dress.

Casting a quick look at her groom, Melanie smiled broadly and took the lead, pulling Bridget into her arms. “It’s so nice to meet you.” She kissed the air next to Bridget’s cheek. “Sorry for the douchie kiss, but I don’t want to smear lipstick all over you.”

“Same here.” Bridget laughed.

“I was thinking about using one of those that are not supposed to come off, but they are not as nice, and they feel weird.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Melanie was easy to like. Unpretentious, friendly, and what surprised Bridget the most, not at all stressed out. It seemed the young bride was a people person and had no problem being the center of attention.

“I love your dress,” Melanie said. “Isn’t it gorgeous, Douglas?” She elbowed her guy.

“Yes. It’s very pretty. Nice to meet you.” He finally offered his hand.

“You too. I heard so much about you.”

To his credit, even though Melanie had given him the perfect excuse to check out Bridget’s body with her remark about the dress, Douglas’s eyes never strayed from Bridget’s face.

“Good things, I hope.”

“Of course.”

“Where did you and my dad meet?” Douglas asked.

The question didn’t come as a surprise. Bridget looked about the same age as Douglas, and way too young for his father. No wonder he was curious about where they’d met.

Victor wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Bridget is a doctor, and I went to see her about a persistent cough I had. She came highly recommended.”

Bridget felt her cheeks warm up. It was one thing to be thought of as a younger woman dating an older man, and another one as a doctor who dated her patient.

“Naturally, I’m not his doctor.” She smiled tightly. “He came to me for a second opinion, and I sent him back to his regular doctor.”

Melanie tilted her head. “When did you finish medical school? Did you skip high school and go straight to college? You’re way too young to be a doctor.”

“Years ago. Looks can be deceptive.” Bridget pointed to her face. “I use moisturizer religiously and never go to sleep with my makeup on.”

It wasn’t a lie. Going to sleep with makeup on was gross because it rubbed off on her pillowcases. And since her skin often felt dry, Bridget applied lotions liberally.

“You must tell me which brand you use.”

“I keep switching. Maybe that’s the trick.”

“I’ll try that.”

Behind them, the line of guests was getting longer.

“We’ve monopolized enough of your time,” Turner said. “Your other guests are waiting.” He started leading Bridget away.

“Not so fast, mister,” Melanie called after him in a stern tone.

With a raised brow, Victor turned. “Yes?”

She beckoned him with her hand. “You don’t get away without a hug.”

Amused, Bridget watched Victor submit to the girl’s embrace.

“Now you can go.” She released him.

“I like Melanie,” Bridget said as they walked over to collect their table assignment. “And Douglas is a very nice young man.”

What she didn’t say was that he looked nothing like Turner.

Douglas was taller and bulkier than his father. His eyes were brown and so was his hair while Victor’s eyes were blue-gray and what hair he had on his body was light blond. Then again, brown was a dominant gene for both eye color and hair color. Douglas had probably inherited the coloring from his mother.

“We should say hello to Douglas’s mom,” she said.

“I know.” Turner looked like he would’ve rather wrestled a gorilla than talk to Nancy. “Let’s get it over with.”

It was interesting to watch the interaction.

The moment Peter, the stepfather, spotted Turner he rushed to intercept, taking Victor’s hand and shaking it vigorously. “Douglas told us about your offer to buy him and Mel a house. I assume you meant the down payment. That’s very generous. Nancy and I would like to put up some money too. What range are we talking about?”

Trotting on a pair of spiky heels, Nancy followed her husband with a tight, nervous smile. “Thank you, Victor. That is so nice of you.” She fidgeted with the little purse she was holding.

Even without the strong scents of anxiety and guilt she was broadcasting, Bridget could read Nancy’s emotions loud and clear.

Ignoring the brouhaha about the house, Victor put his hand on the small of Bridget’s back and gave her a slight push forward. “I would like you to meet my partner, Bridget. Bridget, this is Nancy, Douglas’s mother, and that is Peter, her husband.”

Up until that moment the two hadn’t noticed her, or rather hadn’t made the connection that she was with Victor.

“I’m so sorry,” Peter said as he offered his hand. “I thought you were one of Melanie’s friends. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Turner’s arm tightened around her waist.

Nancy offered her hand. “I’m so glad that Victor finally found someone.”

The woman hadn’t lied, at least not about that. There had been relief in her tone. But what was the guilt all about?

Was it about leaving Turner all those years ago? Was that why she was happy to finally see him with someone?

The thing was, Bridget suspected there was more to it than that. Douglas didn’t look like Victor, and he didn’t look much like Nancy either. The woman was about Bridget’s height, maybe an inch or two taller, and slender. Her hair was dark chestnut, but it wasn’t her natural color, and her eyes were blue.

Still, Douglas could have inherited his size, his coloring, and his body build from some other relative. Genes were funny that way.

Except, on a gut level Bridget suspected a different story. Had Nancy been lying about Victor’s paternity?

The man would be crushed if he found out. Even though he kept saying that he hadn’t been much of a father to Douglas, having a son provided him with an anchor.

It wasn’t a conscious thing on Victor’s part, and Bridget was aware that she might have been projecting her own feelings onto him, but if having a child meant everything to her, an immortal with a large extended family, how much more it would have meant to a human with none?

“We should find our table,” Victor said.

Peter clapped Victor on the back. “We should get together to talk about the down payment for the house.”

“I’m not talking about a down payment, I’m buying them a house. If you want, you can furnish it for them.”

Peter stammered something about the lucky young couple, and Nancy shed a tear that she quickly wiped away.

The scent of guilt intensified.

“I’m thirsty,” Bridget interrupted the tense moment. “Let’s grab a drink.”

“Yes, that’s a wonderful idea,” Victor said as he took her elbow.

Bridget smiled. “It was nice meeting you. We’d better hurry and get the drinks before dinner starts.”

“We will talk more later,” Peter called after them.

Victor let out a breath. “That was awkward. We should have found an excuse to skip the rehearsal dinner. I hate to think I will have to suffer through this again at the wedding.”

Bridget took his hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze. “The hard part is over. You don’t have to talk to Nancy again if you don’t want to. Hi, bye, and that’s it.”

“Promise?”