What?” I asked. “My father?”“It’s a letter from your father. And there’s a postscript from someone named Joyce.”Shit. “That’s my father’s daughter’s name,” I replied slowly. “She’s about…nineteen?”“How should I know? I only corresponded with him. It seems he’s still living in the Long Beach area, and he’d like you to contact him. It says he’s sick, or he’d come to you. Oh. Apparently Joyce is the one who left it in my mailbox.”I can’t think about this now. I rubbed my eye with the heel of my hand. “Can you overnight that to me?”“Is it urgent?” Bree asked.For a moment I forgot we were supposed to be at daggers drawn and I confided in her. “It might be. Jake’s getting married, and I don’t want him to be blindsided by this. He doesn’t really know—”“Jacob is getting married? I thought he was gay?”“He is. He wants to commit to his lover, JT.”“That is the most repulsive—”“We don’t need your opinion, Bree.”“Fine,”
