“Chrishell isn’t blonde,” Ro says.
“Her tits are fake,” Dillon adds, throwing it out there with casual confidence.
“How the hell would you know?” Ash asks, pushing her half-eaten plate away mid-groan.
“We watched the show at our place, and trust me, they’re not real.” He waggles his brows, and Shane snorts. Fiona whacks her fiancé on the arm.
“Wow. Did you put your magnifying glass up to the screen?” Ash teases.
Dillon smirks, flashing those dimples I’m such a sucker for. “Are you for real? Do you not see how little they wear on that show?”
“Google’s your friend.” Ro grins, holding up his cell phone. “Chrishell hasn’t hidden the fact she’s had boob implants.”
“Google isn’t always a reliable source of information, you know,” Ash says. “You shouldn’t believe everything you read online.”
“I’m betting you must’ve met tons of celebrities living in L.A.,” Cath says, her eyes lighting up. “I’m not into all that celebrity nonsense, but if I was ever in L.A., I’d definitely sign up for one of those tours. You know the ones that visit celeb homes. I’d love to—”
“I’m sure Grace is sick of everyone asking her about L.A.,” Dillon says, rudely cutting across his mother.
“The only celebrity your mother has ever gushed about is Lauren Mills,” Eugene supplies, rubbing his bulging belly as he leans back in his chair.
Holy hell.
What are the odds the only celebrity Ash’s mom is interested in is my mom? You couldn’t make this shit up, if you tried. Nerves fire at me, and I shift uneasily in my seat. Dillon looks over at me while Ash squeezes my knee under the table. Blood rushes to my head, making me lightheaded, and I’m terrified I’m about to hurl up everything I’ve eaten.
“Why have I never heard about this?” Ash glances between her parents with a frown.
“I used to go see all her movies before I was married and had you lot. Then the farm and family responsibilities took over.” Cath shrugs, beginning to clear away the plates.
“Sit down, Ma,” Dillon says, standing. “I’ve got it.” He takes the plates from her hand before walking over to the sink.
“You’re all too young to remember this,” Eugene says, continuing the story, oblivious to my inner panic. “But one of her movies premiered at the Savoy in Dublin, back in the day, and rumors were rife that Lauren was going to be there. We got your nana over to mind you lot, and we headed into town early so we could see her.”
“Unfortunately, Lauren had to pull out,” Cath says. “Her daughter fell out of a tree and broke her arm. She didn’t want to leave her. As a mother, I respected her even more for that.”
I remember that day as if it was yesterday. I was six, and Reeve and I had managed to ditch our nanny in the house and sneak outside. Dad had just left to drive Mom to the airport. The workers from the construction company my parents had commissioned to build a treehouse in our back garden had just left for the day, and I wanted to investigate. Reeve tried to talk me out of it, but I was impatient, and I couldn’t wait to see. The two-room treehouse was being built between two large trees, and a bunch of scaffolding propped the half-finished structure up. I got halfway up the side of one of the trees when I lost my footing and my balance. I can still remember Reeve’s cries and screams as I fell through the air toward the ground. He caught me, and we both fell awkwardly, but he definitely cushioned the blow. I ended up with a broken arm, and Reeve suffered a sprained ankle, but it could’ve been a lot worse.
“She’s a fine mother and a fine actress,” Mr. O’ Donoghue says, yanking me out of the memory and back into the present.
All the blood drains from my face, and bile swims up my throat. This is what I get for concealing the truth. I feel terrible sitting here, after enjoying this woman’s hospitality, not letting her know she’s in the presence of Lauren Mills’s daughter.
“Grace’s surname is Mills,” Ronan says. “What a funny coincidence.”
And that’s my cue to fess up. I’m not going to insult my friend’s mother by lying to her. Clearing my throat, I grip Ash’s hand under the table. “Actually, it’s not really a coincidence.”
Ro frowns, and a quiet hush settles over the table. Expectant faces stare back at me.
“You might as well tell them,” Dillon says, clawing a hand through his white-blond hair as he resumes his previous position against the wall. His intense gaze settles on mine as he gives me a quick reassuring nod.
“Wait? You know?” Ash’s eyes pop wide, her gaze darting between me and her brother.
“He saw the photo by my bed,” I confirm.
“So, you two are an item?” Shane asks, pointing between us.
“No!” Me, Dillon, and Ronan say all at once.
Dillon glares at Ronan. Ronan returns it and then some.
“But you said—”
“Shut up, Shane,” Ronan and Dillon say in unison, trading more pointed looks.
“My mom is Lauren Mills,” I blurt, just needing to get it out. “I’m her only daughter, Vivien Grace.”