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He chuckles. "This isn't the first time I've been in the kitchen, Jessica. I spent a lot of time in here when I was a kid. It was my second favorite place in the house after my dad's study. I spent hours here, chatting with the cook or the maids."
It takes me a few seconds to realize what is wrong with that sentence. Cook . . . maids. "How about your mom?"
No reaction from Parker. He merely shifts the remaining pieces of steak from one side of the plate to the other. "Let's just say my mum wasn't a very hands-on mum."
"She didn't spend a lot of time with you and your brother?" I press.
Parker stiffens in his seat at the mention of his brother, then drops his fork, looking at me. "No, she was all right with Robert. She just loathed me."
The ease with which he says the last few words breaks my heart. Like it's nothing more than a simple fact of life. It might seem devastating and cruel to others, but it's something he's learned to live with. "I'm sure that's not true," is all I manage to say.
"You don't know her." He inhales deeply, his stare vacant. "She didn't want me at all. Or my dad. She just married him because she had my brother, Robert, and his father had left them and she didn't have any financial means to support herself and a child. She hated her marriage to my dad and planned to leave him after a few years. But she got pregnant with me and my dad refused to grant her a divorce. She even told him she'd leave me behind with him, if he agreed to a separation."
"That sucks," I say, unsure if I should add anything else.
He merely shrugs. "I still have some great memories of this house from when my dad was alive. After he died, Mum sold it. Not that I was around in the new one much. I wasn’t exactly . . . welcomed. She sent me away shortly after Dad’s funeral."
"I know you've been in a boarding school."
"Several," he says. "I got chucked out of quite a few. No matter how much my mother tried to bribe the headmasters, they weren't willing to keep me."
"Why?"
"I caused lots of trouble. I'd either spend my time alone or cause trouble. I had anger issues. Got into a lot of fights."
"What were you angry about?" I ask quietly.
"Everything. I was mostly angry with my dad for dying. Then I'd feel guilty. I mean, who does that? I couldn't understand how I could be mad at him." A ghost of a frown replaces the impassiveness he's displayed until now, as if he can't recall that particular detail without awakening a very deep pain.
"That's because you were a child, Parker," I say, and wanting to touch his hand, I extend mine over the table. But Parker removes his hand quickly, and I fake wanting to grab salt instead. Why does he reject affection when he needs it? And then it dawns on me. Because he isn't used to getting any. Perhaps he thinks he doesn't deserve it. "You weren't supposed to understand these things on your own. You weren't supposed to go through this alone."
"Well, I did," he says.
"How about your brother?"
"We didn't get along at all. Mum enjoyed her newfound freedom as a rich widow and shipped him to boarding school as well after some time. I think Robert resented me because of the trouble I caused. He got admonished a lot for my behavior. In a way, he felt responsible for me, and it wasn't a responsibility he wanted. Then as we grew older, he became more competitive."
"In what sense?" I ask, confused.
"In every sense." His tone is final. No more talk about his brother. Got it.
"How about your mom? Did she change?"
Parker raises his eyebrows. "She remarried two years after my father's death. I didn't go home during the holidays if I could avoid it. When I was sixteen, she officially kicked me out of the house and cut all my funds."
My jaw drops.
"But you were underage."
"Didn't matter to her. My uncle, Helen's dad, supported me through high school. I refused to take money from him afterward. My dad had set up a trust fund for me, but I didn't have access to it until I turned twenty-two."
"How did you put yourself through college? You wouldn't have had access to scholarships and loans because your family was rich, right?"
Parker looks at me with an uneasy smile. "If I wouldn't know better, I'd suspect you are a reporter. There are a lot of people who'd pay good money for all these details."
"Parker, I'd never—”
"I know, it was a joke. A bad one." He runs his hand through h
