“How did you find out?” he asks, eyeing me with curiosity. “An old friend of my father’s told me,” I say, and it’s not exactly a lie. When I was eleven, an old friend of my father’s did tell me that Nico wasn’t my twin and Carmine wasn’t my father. Relief that I wasn’t Carmine’s nearly overshadowed the depth of my heartbreak about Nico. I was sworn to secrecy, and I’ve never spoken of it to another soul.
