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that person, convincing others the real person is the identity thief. Maddie is an investigator trying to uncover the truth.” A suited man got Lucas’ attention from across the room, and Lucas gave him a “one minute” sign, apologizing to me for needing to go conduct some business.
    I jumped in. “I’m sorry for monopolizing you.”
    He quirked the side of his mouth up in a half smile. “I’m the one guilty of that. The question is, can I do it again? Are you free for dinner soon?”
    I managed to give him a smooth acceptance and my cell number. When he left me and crossed the room, I found the nearest bathroom, locked the door, and freaked out for five minutes. The most sought-after, lusted-after, dreamed-about man in the world asked me out on a date. Maybe it was research for an upcoming role. Maybe the date wouldn’t actually happen. I savored the moment, regardless.

Chapter Six
    My first thoughts Wednesday, the morning after the party, were of three different men: Lucas Tolani, Ryan Johnston, and Billy Reilly-Stinson. Lying in my fluffy bed, I felt smug about dates with two of them. And, despite the fact we hated each other, I felt sympathy for Billy and the people who’d loved him. He’d never again know the anticipation of a first date or the comfort of a bed like this. I remembered the scene and grimaced. It hadn’t been a gentle way to die.
    I shook off my mood and got ready to meet my father, James Hightower Reilly III, for breakfast at the famous Canter’s Deli on Fairfax. I didn’t spot the celebrities that apparently flocked there, but I did see a woman in a wedding dress sitting at a table. No one else paid any attention to her. As we settled into an orange-red vinyl booth, my father saw me looking around.
    â€œIt’s an L.A. institution,” he told me. “Been here more than eighty years, open twenty-four hours. I love diners.”
    Yet another thing we share. “Holly hates it when I want to stop at every hometown spot.”
    After we’d ordered corned beef hash and eggs for him and an avocado, mushroom, and Swiss omelet for me, conversation lagged. We’d gotten the pleasantries out of the way on the drive over. Now it was time for the heavy topics.
    After a lifetime of no connection, I was slowly coming to terms with my father. And possibly with his wife and two children. The other members of the family I’d met were “uncle” Edward, “cousin” Billy, and “cousin” Holden. They’d greeted me with open hostility and disdain, which stemmed from the events surrounding my birth, when my mother died and my father walked away, leaving me to be raised by my maternal grandparents.
    My father claimed not to have known his family gave money to my grandmother when she took me home with her, and whether that was a kind gesture to help with my rearing or a payoff to stay away from the Reilly family forever was under dispute. My father believed the former. My uncle and cousins believed the worst. The bigger question that had nagged at me for the last year, if not my whole life, was why my father had walked away from his newborn child all those years ago.
    My father took a deep breath. “Did you talk with your grandparents?”
    â€œYes. Did you get information from your family?”
    â€œI did. But first, I want us to agree we won’t blindly adhere to either story. That we’ll work together and agree on the truth.”
    â€œYou think one side is lying?”
    â€œI’m suggesting one person’s truth isn’t the same as another’s. I’m also suggesting we commit to staying civil, since the families couldn’t manage that.” He paused. “My relationship with you is more important to me than my family being right twenty-six years ago. I don’t want to lose you again.”
    I tried to decide how I’d feel rejecting what my grandparents had told