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“We’ll be there,” Sage replies sweetly.
Melanie grins at her before touching her hand.
“I think it’s good for the public to see us together, standing strong amid all of this,” Adam adds from the opposite side of the table, sitting at the head where I assume his father once sat.
“I agree,” his mother replies. When her eyes scan in my direction, I tense.
“Dean, I hope you know you are invited.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” I stammer in response. “I appreciate the invite, though.”
“Of course,” she says with a gentle smile. “The invitation is always open.”
I want to ask why, but I don’t. I’m not part of this family, and the longer I sit here, the more I realize how much it feels like I’m filling Isaac’s seat. He’s not here, but I am.
Once that thought enters my mind, it becomes harder to relax. I end up pushing around the food on my plate and drowning out the rest of their conversation.
What would he think about this if he were here? What would he think about me, Caleb and Briar? Would Isaac and I have stayed together if it wasn’t for Caleb driving us apart? Would we still be together today?
My gut says no, but it doesn’t change the fact that, at the time, Isaac was everything to me.
That memory just hurts.
After our dinner is done, the family mingles for a while. We help clean up the table, do the dishes, and end up in the living room. I don’t sit on the couches with them, though. I linger somewhere near the door.
Caleb notices me standing alone as he glances up from the recliner. With Abby sitting on his mother’s lap, he says, “Mom, do you mind if I take a look through Dad’s office before we go? I just need to check for something.”
“Of course, baby,” she says with her sweet Southern drawl.
As he passes by me, up the stairs toward the office, he nods in my direction, signaling me to follow. I feel Adam watching us as I jog up behind Caleb.
Once we reach the office, Caleb closes the door behind us, and my blood pressure spikes. For reasons I don’t understand, I like the idea of being alone with him. Iwantedthis.
“You want a drink?” he asks, going to the shelf along the wall.
“Sure,” I reply, watching as he opens the cabinet and pulls down a bottle of bourbon. He pours two glasses and hands one to me. When he moves to the large chair behind the desk, I take a moment to admire how handsome Caleb has become over the years.
He was always good-looking, but when I knew him before, he was hot in a young, college-athlete way. Now he’s sexy in a mature, aged way with a short beard and crow’s-feet around his eyes.
I see the stress he carries, and if he were my client, I know exactly how I would help him relieve it.
Neither of us says anything for a while as he sips his bourbon.
“You seem stressed,” I say after taking a drink of my own.
He chuffs. “You think?”
“Why do you care about your father’s statement? Your dad lied. So what? Just tell everyone the truth.”
“It’s not that easy,” he replies, rubbing his forehead.
“Why is it on you, though? It’s like…you’re carrying the emotions of everyone around you—your wife, your daughter, your mother, your brother, your family, the whole fucking world. But who’s taking care of you?” I ask, taking a step forward and leaning against the desk with the glass in my hands.
“I didn’t bring you in here so you could lecture me about how I’m doing everything wrong,” he snaps.
“Then why did you bring me in here?” I ask, tilting my head.
He quickly averts his eyes, taking another drink. “I don’t fucking know.”
