He nodded. “The two of us lived in a Carson City trailer park. My father was some drifter I never met. She drank and worked in a casino. Sometimes she remembered to toss me a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter. Maybe a box of cereal. I managed to drag myself through school, and every chance I got, I holed up in the library. That was my sanctuary.”

“So it’s all—your background, your bio—it’s all made-up.”

“As fictional as one of my novels. A total hoax.”

Natalie sipped her drink while her mind reeled. She was shocked—but also sad. Despite all his success, his wealth, his homes in San Francisco and Carmel, his jet-setting lifestyle … the nonprofit he’d founded for children of addicts, he had been living with this secret. “So your mother—Doreen …”

“She doesn’t live in Palm Springs. I got her a place in private care, and she’s been to rehab more times than I can count. I’m so fucking sorry, Natalie.”

“I’m sorry you had to grow up like that, and that you felt you had to hide it.”

“You know how hard publishing is. When I was trying to market myself, I created this persona, and when the books took off, I just went with it. It’s shitty, I know.”

“The world loves you.”

“The world doesn’t know me.”

“You are who you are.” She reached across the table and touched his hand. “You know what I wish? I wish I could go back in time and find you as a little kid and give you a hug and tell you you’re going to be just fine.”

He took his hand away. “You wouldn’t have wanted to hug me. I was covered in lice and bruises.”

“Even more reason to hug you,” she insisted. “Ah, Trevor.”

He took a drink. “You know what they say—it’s never too late to have a happy childhood. I’m happy now, babe. You make me happy.”

Yet there was a sadness inside him, and Natalie knew she couldn’t fill that void. She wondered if his attraction to her, while seemingly romantic on the surface, actually stemmed from his wanting to be with someone who was steady and dependable and predictable, everything the awful mother was not.

Natalie finally understood why she hadn’t been able to be all in with Trevor. It wasn’t her bad judgment about guys. It was her instincts, telling her—shouting at her—to pay attention. She should have listened to herself. She’d been right to hold back from Trevor, even if she didn’t understand why.

“Were you ever going to level with me?” she asked, not bothering to soften the edge of anger in her voice.

He shrugged his shoulders. “I like to think I would have, eventually.”