Another nod.

He tried not to exhale in relief, and looked across the kitchen. “Would you like a coffee? I believe there are ingredients for a mocha in the refrigerator—Veronica said she’d pick them up at the shop. There are cookies, too. From Rose.”

Olivia stared at him, and he replayed his words, searching for some way they could be misconstrued.

“It may be late for coffee,” he said. “But I believe Veronica also bought decaffeinated.”

“I … have something important to tell you, Gabriel.”

“Yes, and I thought we’d take coffee and go outside to discuss it.”

“It’s really important.”

He could see that. However, as it only concerned him, he couldn’t imagine it was nearly as monumental as she seemed to think. But he supposed, if she was upset, she might not want coffee.

“All right,” he said. “What is it?”

“It’s about …”

She took a deep breath. He waved her into the next room. “Let’s sit.”

She nodded and followed him to the living room. They sat and … nothing. She perched on the edge of the sofa, hands in her lap.

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” she said.

“Go on,” he said, trying not to sound impatient, while well aware that night was falling, which meant it would soon be too chilly to sit outside. He remembered taking a meeting in a client’s garden once, and she’d had a wood-burning stove out there. He would suggest that for Olivia, to extend the use of her garden.

It took a moment to realize Olivia was talking again, and given the apparent gravity of the situation, he should listen.

“—because I don’t want you to find out another way, like what happened with Tristan and Gwynn. Others know—fae, that is, and Cŵn Annwn—and they’re going to tell you at some point.”

“All right.” It would probably be rude to stop her while he turned on the coffee machine to warm up. He should have done that before they left the kitchen.

“It’s … it’s about your …”

He had to resist the urge to tell her to just blurt it out.

“Your father …” she said. “Did your mother ever hint at who …?”

“No.”

“Okay, well, I know who … I know who he is.”

“All right.”

She looked at him as if he might not have heard right. Clearly his reaction was not what she’d expected. Discovering her own parentage had been life-changing. Devastating, at least in the beginning, and even now she dealt with the ramifications daily. Yet he’d never wasted a moment wondering about the identity of his father. Rose had broached the subject once—did it bother him, not knowing? His honest reply had been no.

As long as the man didn’t actually expect contact with Gabriel, he supposed it would be helpful to fill in his missing medical history, but otherwise he had no interest. Unless his father would want money. In that case he’d rather not know. However, knowing would in no way obligate him to help.

“Gabriel?”

“Go on.”

“I said I know who your father is.”

He softened his voice. “I realize you consider this momentous news, Olivia. But to me? It is merely filling in a blank that I never cared was empty.”

She exhaled. “Okay. But … it’s … it’s not just some random guy your mother slept with. I mean, it is, but …”

“I know him?”

She nodded, her gaze fixed on him. He quickly compiled the evidence.

“Patrick,” he said finally.

Olivia went still. “You knew?”

He shook his head. “Given what you’ve said, that simply seemed the most obvious answer. I’ll presume I’m correct, then. It would explain why Seanna became so upset when I had contact with him as a child.”

“She forbade you to speak to him. Not surprising, given she’d have been barely eighteen when he seduced her.”

“Knowing Seanna, I rather doubt that’s exactly how it happened.”

“But she was so young.”

“Seanna was never young, Olivia. If you think a teenage pregnancy sent her life into a downward spiral, I can assure you, that isn’t what happened. Rose says the drugs came much earlier. I was a minor inconvenience rather than a life-changing event.”

“I’m sorry.”

He gave her a brief smile. “There’s no need to be.”

“I still am. I’m sorry for what you went through with her, and I’m sorry Patrick did nothing about it. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you. To let you know your father had been there when …”

“Ah. Is that why you’ve been angry with him?”

“Of course,” she said, as if the answer was obvious. He’d noticed her relationship with Patrick had changed a few months ago. She’d seemed fine with him, and then she wasn’t.

“He’s fae,” Gabriel said softly. “I don’t think we can expect him to take a normal parental role.”

“I don’t care. He should have done something.”

Her voice was fierce, and if this was secondhand outrage he was getting now, he could only imagine what Patrick must have gotten. The full brunt of her fury. For him.

I love her.

That was hardly a revelation. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t take the risk of trying to further their relationship. Yet he had never said the words even in his mind, because even there they blew a cannonball through a fortress he’d spent a lifetime erecting. To care about someone was quite enough, and even that was difficult to admit. Only a few minutes ago, he’d been unable to say he valued her friendship.