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‘Your dad owns a restaurant?’
‘He used to, a little Tuscan place not far from the house I live in now. Nothing fancy, but my parents had put their whole lives into the business after they arrived from Italy. They ran it together with two other staff. Nick and me helped out in the mornings before school and on weekends.’
‘When you were ten?’ He sounded astonished.
She grinned, recalling how much she had adored the constant bustle of the kitchen—watching her mum and dad work side by side. It had always made her feel so secure. Funny to think that image could still make her feel good. Even though she knew now the sense of security had been false.
‘Yes, well, I pretended to help and Nick did most of the work, bussing tables and doing the dirtiest kitchen duty. I loved it. He didn’t. Even before…’ Her voice trailed off. Did she really want to relive any of this?
‘So that explains your cupcake capabilities,’ Cal remarked.
‘Yes,’ she said, the interruption successfully shifting her focus back to the task at hand. ‘I come from a long line of food aficionados.’
‘But Nick wasn’t into it?’
‘Nick hated everything about the catering industry. The noise, the constant stress and activity,’ she murmured. ‘But it wasn’t just that. There was something wrong between Nick and Mum. Even then.’ Why had she always refused to admit that until now?
‘How do you mean?’
‘She was so flamboyant. So passionate about everything. She had this huge appetite for life that spilled over into everything she did. But with Nick it was different.’ Ruby tried to push the guilt to one side, but it refused to budge. ‘She never hugged him or kissed him with anything like the same enthusiasm she did me. I guess my dad noticed too, because he filled the gap. He was brilliant with Nick, bringing him out of his shell, praising everything he did. But the night she died, that all changed.’ She rubbed the heel of her hand on her breastbone. The sick, choked up feeling came back.
‘We were all hurting,’ she whispered above the quiet hum of the car. ‘She was such a big part of our lives, our family and now she was gone. And as hard as it had been to watch the way she suffered with the cancer, the finality was worse. Nick said something. I can’t even remember what. And our dad, it was like he turned on him. He started ranting in Italian. Something about not wanting to look at Nick, not wanting to hear him speak.’ Tears scorched her throat, making it diff
icult to speak. ‘Nick went white with shock. I started crying. I begged Dad to stop. I know I grabbed hold of him and clung on. And he did stop. He apologised. And then he started to weep. He held me so tight I found bruises on my arms the next day. But he wouldn’t hug Nick. He wouldn’t even look at him.’
She pushed away the tear that had slipped out with her fist. Her breath hitching. God, when was she finally going to get over this?
‘When did you find out about Nick being illegitimate?’
She swallowed. Cal’s astute question bringing back the agony she’d gone through at the time. ‘I overheard my dad and Nick talking on the day of her funeral.’ She sighed. ‘Mum told Dad the truth on the night she died.’ Ruby paused, the sense of betrayal, of confusion still stupidly fresh. Not just because of the infidelity, but because her mother had confessed. Why had she confessed and destroyed everything? ‘My dad told Nick it didn’t matter. That he didn’t care. That he’d forgiven my mother and that he still considered him to be his son. But Nick couldn’t forgive her. He retreated into this sullen, angry silence. I tried to reach him.’ She sighed. ‘I had this mad idea that if I loved him more, I could make it up to him.’
‘Not mad,’ Cal interrupted, with implacable certainty. ‘Understandable. My sister did the same thing whenever my parents had one of their break-ups. She always tried to fix it. I think she thought if she could be a better daughter that somehow things would be all right.’
‘That’s it. That’s exactly it,’ she said, pathetically pleased to finally have those immature yearnings validated. ‘I thought the same thing. Our family was falling apart before my eyes. And there was no way to solve it. To make it better.’
‘What happened to Nick?’
‘He became a different person. He used to be so sensitive. So open. But after Mum died, he started to stay out late, hang out with the worst kids in the neighbourhood, bunked off school, got into fights. He wouldn’t talk to me. And him and Dad argued all the time—I suppose he was trying to test if my dad really loved him or not. And then when he was sixteen, they had this massive row one night and he left. My dad tried to find him. But he was just gone.’
‘So you never saw your brother again?’
If only it could have been that simple.
‘I contacted him three years ago when my dad had a massive heart attack. Dad had to stop working and we sold the restaurant. I knew he was dying. He knew it too. And he asked me to find Nick. He wanted to see him one more time. So I hired an agency.’ To think even then, she’d still held out some hope that she could fix things. ‘Turns out he lives in San Francisco. He’s a scriptwriter. In Hollywood,’ she added, pride thickening her voice despite everything. ‘It took me three weeks of phone calls to his agent and then his PA before he called me back.’ She shook her head, the agony and devastation still far too real. ‘He didn’t want to know.’ She blinked, the sheen of tears turning the motorway’s grass verges to a misty green. ‘I rang him twice more, when Dad started to deteriorate, and he took the calls, but I couldn’t make him budge.’
‘What did he say?’
‘That he didn’t want to see Dad again.’ She gulped down the silly sting of pain. ‘That was the worst bit, he kept referring to him as “your dad” like they weren’t even related. I lost my temper with him. I shouted, I pleaded, I argued and begged. But he wouldn’t listen. Dad died a few weeks later. I sent Nick an invite to the funeral and he didn’t show.’ She turned to Cal, saw the sharp frown of concentration on his brow. ‘So there you have it. The long and boringly anecdotal reason why I made such an idiot of myself this afternoon when your sister rang. I heard you talking to her and it was like all those feelings came back—of pain and frustration and helplessness—and I transferred all my unhappiness with Nick onto you.’
Looking at the rigid line of Cal’s jaw, the muscle twitching as he kept his eyes on the road ahead, she wondered again at the idiotic impulse, but still felt relieved that she finally had a decent explanation. Her volatile reaction had never had anything to do with her and Cal. It had always been about her and Nick.
‘I expect you’re probably questioning the state of my mental health at the moment.’ She gave a strained laugh. ‘And I wouldn’t blame you in the least. But, honestly, I don’t usually make such a complete twit of myself. Especially not on such short acquaintance.’
‘There’s no need to apologise again,’ he murmured. ‘Given the context, your reaction makes sense.’ His eyes drifted over her face and figure before returning to the road ahead. ‘You’re a passionate person.’ His lips turned up at the corner. ‘I’ve got several reasons to be grateful for that.’
Turning towards the console, Ruby drew her knees up, settled her cheek against the deep bucket seat and gazed at the man beside her. ‘You know, you’re an exceptionally good listener,’ she murmured, knowing he’d been much more than that. With his straightforward questions and observations he’d helped her see the breakdown of her family in a new light. She could see now she’d tried, she’d done her best and she had to stop blaming herself for something that had never been in her power to fix.
His brow lifted. ‘It’s part of my job to listen,’ he said, but she detected a note of caution that made her smile. He sounded taken aback, wary and even a little embarrassed. Who would have suspected that her Scottish Warlord would be flummoxed by a simple compliment?
