Andie was still Andie. Deep down, I knew she would never intentionally hurt me, and she was just a kid when the incident happened. Logically, I knew I shouldn’t be upset with her. I still was though. The fact that Andie could have told me the second I got the ancestry test results back, but didn’t, was what really bugged me. That she had kept up the act of being surprised by my discovery when she had known all along, was something I couldn’t easily let go.

‘Have you ever been totally and completely betrayed, Mickey?’ I asked before downing the rest of my drink.

Mickey paused where he was wiping down the bar in front of me with a black bar cloth and leaned forward on the polished wood surface. ‘Haven’t we all?’

A short, sarcastic laugh exploded from deep in my stomach. ‘I hadn’t, not until recently, anyway.’

‘What about that sleazy ex of yours, the one you and Andie were always raggin’ on?’

‘Yeah, he was for sure a sleaze, but that doesn’t even come close to finding out you’re adopted and your family lied to you about it your entire life.’

‘Oh,’ he said, a little awkwardly but staring at me intensely, intrigued, running his fingers across the dark stubble lining his chin. ‘Shit.’

‘Yeah. Shit,’ I said, swigging down the last of my drink.

Mickey grabbed the bottle and a second glass, pouring us both a drink. ‘This one’s on the house.’

‘Thanks,’ I mumbled into the amber liquid as we both took a sip. He placed a water on the bar next to me too, but I ignored it. ‘I feel like I’m an overly forgiving, understanding person, Mickey. I try not to hold grudges, life’s like, too short, you know? But this is HUGE. I mean, think about it. All the little lies that they told me along the way to prop up this enormous one. Like when my parents took me to the doctor as a kid, did they just lie on the family history section? Do I actually have high blood pressure and diabetes in my DNA that I should keep an eye on?’ I splayed my hands out and shrugged. ‘I may never know.’ I took a sip, the resentment bubbling in the pit of my stomach. ‘Or when I did that stupid family tree project in elementary school and they helped me cut and paste photos on poster board with stories of how our family came to this country. All of it was one big elaborate lie.’ I took another sip and slammed the glass down onto the glossy wooden countertop. A splash of whiskey sloshed over the side. ‘Sorry,’ I said, sopping up the spill with my sleeve. My words were starting to slur; even I could hear it.

Mickey shook his head and gave a low whistle, ‘That’s a lot for anyone to handle.’