Glen’s eyes widened. “Hi, Mia. It’s an honor to finally meet you.”

He was as affable in person as he’d been in his emails. I smiled, reaching out my hand to shake his. “Glen.”

He shook my hand. “You’re as beautiful as your mom.”

Mom and I thanked him in unison.

I introduced him to Adam. Glen shook his hand, congratulating us on our impending wedding. Then we all sat. I buried the awkwardness of the moment and wondering what to say as I studied the menu.

Thank goodness for appetizers—and wine—to loosen the mood.

Glen wasn’t the awkward one. It was all me.

“Thank you again for sending me that folder of medical information,” I said after the small talk lulled.

He smiled. “It was the least I could do. And I mean that completely. The least anyone in our family could do for you.”

I blinked and avoided peering at my mother. “It—it must have been difficult for you to get your father to sign the release for his records.”

Glen hesitated then returned his eyes to his plate as he cut his meat. With a shrug, he replied, “He’s a man of sense. When sense is pounded into him, he responds appropriately.”

I nodded, but didn’t reply. It still stung, the knowledge that Gerard been reluctant to give his medical records to me, even while I was undergoing treatment for cancer. That he hadn’t cared enough to respond to my mother’s request.

Glen cleared his throat and met my gaze. “I’m not going to defend him, by the way. He hasn’t done right by you, and that’s on him. But I will say that you haven’t missed much, Mia. Honestly, he hardly knows the three kids that grew up in his house. He’s a crappy father.”

In spite of that downer pronouncement, it was still a little gratifying to hear. That his neglect and disdain hadn’t been personal to only me. Those feelings came with more than a small pinprick of guilt, however.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured for lack of anything else to say.

“Don’t be. One by one, our relationships with him have deteriorated or become damaged beyond repair. One of my sisters cut him off completely. The other barely speaks to him. I’m the only one who tolerates him, and that’s more for my mom’s sake.”

I nodded, chewing my chicken breast thoughtfully, wondering about his mother. What kind of woman must she be? Was she like the Real Housewives from my dinner out—the ones who spoke of tolerating their husbands’ indiscretions out of necessity?

“She’s aware of you, by the way. She’s known for quite some time.”

Silence. I peeked at my mother, whose features appeared perfectly smooth and unaffected. This wasn’t news to her, then. But did she appear paler, or was I imagining it?

“Well, I’d say I’m sorry if my existence has caused her pain—”

My mother nudged me under the table. Not lightly, either.

“More like my father’s existence has caused her pain,” he scoffed.

Whether Glen was exaggerating the idiosyncrasies of his father in order to put me at ease, I didn’t know. But I was grateful to him for the effort, nevertheless.

Our lunch was pleasant, and when it was time to go, Glen asked for a moment alone with me. After a nervous glance at Adam, who nodded his reassurance to me, the rest of the party left to wait for me at the entrance of the restaurant. I stood in front of Glen, shifting from one leg to the other.

He pulled an envelope from his jacket and held it in front of him without offering it to me. “I need to explain this first before I give it to you. I didn’t know about you until recently, but as I said, my mom has known for a long time now. She didn’t actively monitor what was going on with you, but was aware of your circumstances and your age. All of us received a trust fund dispensation at age eighteen to cover our college with our full payout of the trust fund at age twenty-three, or whenever we graduated college. She insisted my father set one up for you, which he did. But he refused to make you aware of it.”

I swallowed, blinking, suddenly aware of an invisible weight slamming against my chest.

He held the envelope out to me. “This is the information on how to access the trust fund.”

My hand trembled as I took it from him. “I don’t want his money.”

He put his hand over mine, a firm grasp holding tightly. “Take it, Mia. It’s yours. And don’t do it for him. Do it for my mom. It would make her happy.”

Inexplicable tears prickled my eyes. “She sounds like a wonderful lady.”

“She is. The best. He never deserved her.”

“I hope she divorces him.”

He laughed. “She did. Very recently.”

“Maybe I could meet her someday.”

He nodded. “I think she’d like that. But one thing at a time. I don’t want this to be weird between us. I have no idea how you establish a sibling relationship with an adult you’ve never met before, but…I’d like to try. I’d like to tell people that I have another sister. I went from being the baby of the family all this time to having a younger sister.”

He released his grip on my hand, and I pulled it away. “Thank you, Glen. For being such a decent human being. For restoring my faith in that half of my family tree.”

He smiled. “I can’t vouch for the old man, but thanks for not judging me based on him.”

I laughed. “I may once have. But never again.”

“Can I give you a hug?”

In response, I stepped forward and hugged him. “Thanks for doing all of these things you didn’t have to do.”

He patted my back. “I did have to do them.”

We walked out, but not before I invited him to attend our wedding. He was delighted to receive the invitation.

Adam only asked me a few questions on the way home. He left me alone once we got there, after I told him I had a lot I needed to think about. It was bizarre, really. Suddenly, I had money. How did one deal with becoming instantly wealthy?

I’d been struggling with that question since I’d become engaged to Adam. Now, that issue was hitting me from a completely different angle. After taking a long walk by myself, we had dinner, and I told him about the trust fund.

“You were young when you got this kind of money dropped into your lap.” I was speaking of Adam’s first big break—when he’d sold a program to a huge gaming company for millions of dollars at the ripe age of seventeen.