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“Someone dying?” I proceeded.
“No,” Dad said.
“And none of these girls are preggo?” I threw a thumb in Keeley and Payton’s direction. My bet was on Payton. Kid was trouble. But my parents shook their heads in unison, denying this, too.
“In that case, I’ll take a rain check.” I took a sip of my water, leaning back in my chair. “We have a board meeting in our L.A. office after dinner that will take some time.”
“Everything all right?” Dad furrowed his brows. I shrugged.
“We’re twisting Vicious’s arm. He needs to switch branches with Trent. He wants to be close to his parents now that Val is gone.”
As the words left my mouth, I’d realized that Rosie didn’t know shit about it. I forgot to tell her. Didn’t think she’d care. But, of course, she would. Her parents lived in Vicious’s house, and her sister was having his fucking baby. Though I knew Vicious would never sell the mansion—he loved it too much—I still felt like a dick, throwing it in her face out of nowhere.
She leaned forward and my fingers were no longer touching her back, and her lips were no longer smiling, and fuck, I was an asshole. She had every right to give me grief about it.
“You can still make it, even if late,” my dad insisted. Goddamn, what was with him today?
“No can do, Dad. Told you. This could take a while. If you have something to tell me, do.”
“I’d rather not.”
I put my silverware down—slowly—taking the time to scan every curious face at the table before I spoke again. “We’re family. All of us.” My hand found Rosie’s neck, but she pulled away, gently yet firmly, making sure I knew I was in the doghouse.
“Dean, honey.” Mom licked her lips, and Keeley and Payton offered each other puzzled looks from across the table. They didn’t know what the hell was going on either. Thank fuck. The last thing I needed was an intervention or some shit.
Nothing about the situation made sense. Our family didn’t have secrets. Well, there was one, and it was mine, but it was buried six feet under, covered by the dirt of everyday life and the dust of years of denial. The rule was that when we were together, we talked about it freely. Never held back.
Only it wasn’t just us in the room now. Rosie was there, too. It tipped me off, and my jaw locked, my eyes narrowed.
What the fuck has Nina done now?
“That old thing. I still haven’t told Rosie about it.” I rubbed my face tiredly. “Yeah…fine. I’ll throw her in the loop after we’re done here. She’s not gonna give a fuck. I promise you that,” I said, watching as all eyebrows in the room—Rosie’s included—rose in disbelief.
“Please, if you need to say something, do. Don’t mind me. It’d make me feel right at home,” my girlfriend joked. None of us found it funny. My teeth ground together.
“Any reason why you’d choose to bring it up now?” I played cool.
Brunch was turning into the kind of Jerry Springer crap you made fun of when you were doped, slung on your couch drinking ice-cold beer.
Say hi to your current life, asshole. It’s not a TV show; it’s your reality.
“We heard Nina was in New York.” My dad jerked his chin up, and that was when I noticed he hadn’t touched anything on his plate. Eli Cole didn’t eat his fucking cowboy breakfast. That was weird. He would marry greasy food if it were legal. Mom only let him have it once a year.
“I see she gave you an update on her whereabouts.” I reached for the orange juice, my hand a little shaky. “I’m taking care of it.”
Sort of. Kind of. Okay, not really.
“We all know what she wants.” Dad put his hand on mine and made the shaking stop. I raised my eyes to his. We both swallowed hard. “And I think it’s time you face what she has to say, son.”
“You do?” I leaned back, breaking the contact, one of my elbows propped on the table and my other arm snaking around Rosie’s seat. “Who is going to pay for this little adventure? You or me?”
“Me, if that’s what you care about. But it’s not. Your mother and I want to discuss this with you. It’s not a subject to be addressed on the phone.”
Rosie’s hand came down on my knee. Payton and Keeley looked confused, but she was downright frightened. I needed to make it stop. I postponed this conversation long enough. It was time to tell her and face the consequences.
My eyes were still locked in a battle with my dad. He was pissing me off. That almost never happened. I had a very good relationship with my father. We golfed together. Went to football games together. Talked until the very late hours of the night together every time I came home for a visit. Other than drinking together—I had a problem and didn’t want him to witness my ugly side for himself—we pretty much did everything together. He was a source of pride for me. Even my friends dropped by to ask him for advice.
