Joanna had fought for her. Joanna Whitman, who owed her nothing, whose husband had cheated and humiliated her, had fought for what she believed to be right.

The last of Ashley’s defenses slid down. “I always knew my dad wasn’t my biological dad. She told me it was some random guy she’d met, and that he didn’t matter. She’d been young and it had been a mistake, that’s what she said. She met and married David when I was a baby. He was my dad. I called him that. I felt he was that.” And she missed him. She missed his patience, and his kindness, and countless small things like the fact that he owned seven shirts exactly the same so that he didn’t have to make a decision about what to wear in the morning. “She didn’t tell me who my real dad was until right at the end, and I was shocked and I had a ton of questions but I didn’t feel I could ask them because she was ill and nothing seemed to matter except that. And after she died I was—well, I wasn’t in a good place. I held it together for a long time. I was like a robot to be honest, but then one day I just fell apart. That’s when I got pregnant. Am I talking too much?”

“No.” Joanna took the empty glass from her. “Talking is good. Do you want to tell me about him?”

Did she? Yes, she did. Joanna was a private person and yet she’d trusted Ashley with her secrets so why shouldn’t Ashley do the same, even if it felt hard?

“I’ve known Jon forever. He’s my best friend. Nothing romantic, but we hung out together.” Maybe Joanna couldn’t understand that. “I don’t know when I first realized I had feelings for him that were more than friendship, but I didn’t say anything. It was weird to be honest. I felt like I was breaking the rules. Crossing a boundary. I tried to ignore my feelings, pretend nothing had changed and carry on.”

“That must have been hard.”