Forty minutes later, I’m dressed, my make-up’s perfect and I’ve tamed down my hair to look more polished. I’ve done this a million times in my other life so play acting this role is nothing new for me.
Kat knocks on my door with her usual double-knock. I open it and she gushes over me like I’m a star. I’m thrilled Noah finally broke the surprise to her. That fake act I’ve mastered is totally in place as I say politely thank you and let her link her arm through mine as we make our way to the party room. I’ve got my camera bag slung over my shoulder and we head to where the anniversary couple are.
I make Kat leave, telling her I work better alone. After the polite introductions are made I get to work and position the cute older couple this way and that. I fire off about two dozen pictures and promise to email them the best and they can pick which ones work for them.
They say thank you and then dash into the party room. I take a minute to regroup and long to run back to my room but can’t. For one, I don’t want to let Kat and the staff down and for two, despite the sick feeling in my gut, I’m honestly curious of what people think of my photos.
I open the door to the party room to find the lights are blazing and there’s already a huge crowd inside. Jazz music, not country, which I’m sure is a first for this resort, blares from the speakers.
I step inside, feeling my facial muscles tense as I prepare to smile my way through the night like a total idiot.
“You look ravishing,” says Blake, sliding up beside me.
My heart speeds up when I look at him. He’s wearing the same business suit I saw him in that first time before he took it off to go for a skinny dip in the lake and I wish to god he didn’t make me feel all gushy inside.
I mumble a thanks and he edges closer.
“Is everything okay?” he says.
I think I say something like I’m nervous but for the life of me I can’t remember. All I remember seeing is Carol walk through the double doors from the restaurant to the party room.
On her arm is my father.
I’m about to bolt for my life when my father spots me and all I can do is stand and stare, letting that feeling of hatred spill through me.
“Oh my god, Marissa, is it really you?” he asks as his loud voice tracks straight to me.
I’m shaking all over but my flight instincts for once don’t kick in. I feel, more than see, Blake edge even closer to me. I’m about to speak or flee, but like my body has a mind of its own and it chooses that moment to do the most unthinkable thing ever—faint.
I wake feeling a thousand eyes on me but all I see staring at me with pure fear are Blake’s light hazel eyes.
“You okay?” he says, and I try hard to zero in on him.
“No,” I say and just like that his hands are under me and I’m being scooped up into his arms. At any other time this would be incredibly romantic. Sad that it’s just embarrassing.
I burrow my face into his chest, attempting to block out the sight of my father or his voice as he follows closely on Blake’s heels.
Blake simply ignores him and marches with me in his arms into the quieter restaurant. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Roger with a panicked expression on his face, which at any other time would be comical. Blake eases me into a booth and then turns to my father.
“Listen, I don’t know who you are, but please go back to the party with Carol.”
My father looks from me to him and then smiles one of his I’ve-got-a-secret smiles which has always made my skin crawl.
“Marissa, what the hell is going on?”
Blake almost gets in my father’s face. “Listen, this isn’t Marissa its Alyssa.”
My father scoffs. “Three years you’ve been missing and this is what you’ve done with your life. Changed your name and what the hell have you done to your blonde hair? That color had better wash out.”
I feel every word he says like a blow and hate that I feel once again like a five-year-old trying to hide from him.
“Listen buddy, you need to leave,” says Blake.
“I’m not leaving without my daughter. Goddamn it, I can’t believe Carol was right. I had to see for myself and what the hell do I find, my daughter, Marissa Papadopoulos, masquerading as a bartender. Why…why after all these years didn’t you contact me?”
Blake’s about to go nasty and inside I’m freaking out. I force myself to sit up more in the booth. “Marissa is dead. I stopped using your last name years ago. I’m no longer a Papadopoulos. Wouldn’t want to sully your family name, and you’re no longer my father. I have my own life. Get out.”
My words stop Blake in his tracks. He stumbles back like I’ve stabbed him in the back and maybe I have.