I started to pull my hand away, and she tightened her grip. “Logan is Junie’s daddy, isn’t he?” she asked.

“No,” I said.

She tsked at me under her breath. “I’m not gonna tell no one, if that’s what you’re worried about. I can keep my mouth shut with the best of ’em.”

My shoulders slumped, and I leaned back against the counter, all the fight, all the denial, gone out of me. “How’d you know?” Someone finally figuring it out, after all this time, didn’t feel like the relief I’d thought it might.

My mama shrugged, let go of my hand. “A feeling I got when I saw the two of you at the press conference. The way he looked at you.”

I shook my head. “He doesn’t look at me any sort of way.”

“Yeah, he does. Man’s got a soft spot for you. I could see it clear as day. Then something about the way he swung his arms when he walked. Reminded me of Junie.” She shrugged again. “Put two and two together, that’s all.”

See? That’s what I mean about never underestimating my mama. Doesn’t matter how many drugs she does or how worthless she appears to be. She’s always watching. Calculating. Filing things away. She always has exactly the right ammunition at exactly the right moment. And before you know what’s happening, you wind up ambushed and gut-shot, my mama standing over you, triumphant.

“Well, at least I know who Junie’s father actually is,” I told her. “Gives me a leg up on you.”

My mama blew air out from between pursed lips. “Doesn’t matter who he was. I don’t care. He was only a sperm donor anyway.” Typical Mama. Trying to shame her always backfired because it was an emotion she couldn’t feel. As a kid, I’d tried every which way to get her to tell me about my father. I even tried crying once, always a dangerous tactic with Mama, more likely to get you smacked than comforted. I told her kids at school were making fun of me. She’d pinched me hard enough to break skin, told me to shut my lying mouth before she shut it for me. Said she knew none of those kids gave two shits about who my daddy was because most of them didn’t have a daddy, either. For a long time, I’d nurtured the thought she was hiding some big, dark secret. Like maybe my daddy was famous and she’d been sworn to secrecy. But eventually I’d wised up and realized Mama was telling the truth. She had no idea who he was, probably couldn’t even pick him out of a lineup.

“You still haven’t said why you were here last night,” I reminded her. “What you needed to talk to me about.”

She flapped her hand like whatever it was barely mattered. “Was gonna tell you to go talk to Marion.” She poured the remains of her coffee into the sink. “But make sure you’ve got some time to kill. That woman ain’t never told a story she can’t manage to drag out half the day.”