Missy had located two champagne flutes and was pouring the orange juice. “Maybe you should think about filling that time with some fun. There’s a guy who works with Daddy, a CPA. Nice-looking. Divorced. No kids.”

Christy-Lynn shot her a look. “Why don’t we have some lunch?”

Missy feigned a pout. “All right, I get it. Time to change the subject.”

“Exactly.” Christy-Lynn pulled two shrimp and avocado salads from the fridge and headed for the deck. “Speaking of kids, where are the boys today?”

“On a campout with the neighbor’s kids.” Missy handed Christy-Lynn a champagne flute and settled herself into one of the deck chairs. “What is it about boys sleeping in tents?”

Christy-Lynn smiled. “I can’t help you there, but it must be nice to have some alone time.”

Missy gave the question some thought then shrugged. “You’d think so, but I actually miss the little monsters. The house is too quiet when they’re gone, and I’m not sure I know what to do with alone time anymore. I know it’s crazy, but I like running around with my hair on fire. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give up for my kids, but I guess it comes with the territory.”

“Not always,” Christy-Lynn said more gloomily than she intended.

Missy’s expression softened. “You mean your mother.”

Christy-Lynn waved the remark away. “Forget it. I didn’t mean to get all maudlin. I just haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

Missy’s gaze narrowed. “I’m guessing that’s not because you’ve been binge-watching the last season of Game of Thrones.”

Christy-Lynn considered changing the subject but knew better than to think she’d get away with it. “There’s been . . . a development.”

“What kind of development?”

“A little girl,” she blurted quickly, like ripping off a bandage. “Stephen and Honey had a little girl.”

Missy sat frozen, absorbing the news with a faintly stunned expression. “Well,” she said finally. “He really was a bastard, wasn’t he? How did you find out?”

“I’ve seen her—at Rhetta’s. It was like someone knocked all the air out of me. All I could see was Stephen and Honey looking back at me.”

“Sweet Jesus,” Missy breathed, reaching for Christy-Lynn’s hand. “And you’ve been carrying this around all by yourself. Why? You know I’m always here for you, don’t you? That you can tell me anything?”

Christy-Lynn nodded. She did know. But in the three weeks since she’d learned of Iris’s existence, she hadn’t been able to work her into the conversation. Except with Wade, of course, but that was only because she’d blurted it all out in a moment of weakness.

“I guess I’ve been processing,” she said finally. “It’s embarrassing, finding out your husband fathered a child with another woman and managed to keep it a secret for three years. And if his car hadn’t gone off that bridge, I still wouldn’t know.”

Missy huffed so hard her bangs fluttered. “Look, I know you’re upset, honey, and you have every right to be, but you have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Christy-Lynn shrugged half-heartedly. She wanted to believe the words. But wanting and believing were two different things. Stephen had been no saint. She’d come to terms with that, but her willingness over the years to turn a blind eye to his character flaws was hard to deny. She’d been content with the status quo, happily ensconced in a false sense of security, and in her blissful state of oblivion had enabled an affair—and by extension, the birth of a little girl whose childhood eerily mirrored her own.

Missy was looking at her, waiting for the rest of the story—because of course she knew there was more. The woman was like a bloodhound. And so it all came tumbling out—the stomach-dropping moment she had first seen Iris, the check Rhetta had been too proud to accept, the awful moment Ray Rawlings had called his niece an abomination.

Missy was still shaking her head when Christy-Lynn fell silent. “My God. A little girl with no parents, and that poor woman with a child to raise at her age. I honestly don’t know who to feel sorrier for.”

“It’s awful. The house they live in looks like it would blow over in a stiff breeze. There’s no yard, no phone, no neighbors close by. But the worst is Honey’s brother refusing to take Iris if something happens to Rhetta. She could end up in foster care.”

Missy looked thoughtful as she smoothed the creases from her linen slacks. “I know it’s awful, honey, but at the risk of sounding heartless, it really isn’t your problem. This is her parents’ fault, and it’s up to her family to deal with it.”

Christy-Lynn stared at her lap, wadding her napkin into a ragged ball. “He called her an abomination, Missy. An abomination born in sin. Her own uncle called her that.” She swallowed convulsively, her heart aching at the unfairness of it all. “None of this is Iris’s fault, but she’s the one who’ll pay.”

Missy let out a long sigh. “You’re up to your neck in this, aren’t you?”

Christy-Lynn nodded, though deep down she knew the ache in her chest wasn’t only for Iris. For some terrible, twisted reason, fate had conspired to put this little girl in her path, an unwelcome reminder of the childhood she’d been trying to outrun for decades. And now, for better or worse, there was no going back.