Whatever Brooks said this morning, however he acted, he’s stolen their loyalty right out from under me. I’m quite certain he missed his calling in life. The man should’ve been an actor, not a financial advisor.
“Brooks ended the engagement the night of the accident. He left.” I swallow the hard ball in my throat. “He left to go be with his mistress. And his mistress happens to be carrying his child.”
Mom rises, pushing the chair away and heading toward the kitchen island. She rests her elbows on the marble before burying her face in her hands.
“I don’t believe it,” Derek says. “Brooks loved you. He was obsessed with you.”
My eyes roll. “And it was all an act. Our entire relationship was built on a foundation of lies.”
“Now, just wait one minute.” Dad’s face pinches as he sits up. His flattened palm lifts in the air. “How do you know this, Demetria? Where is your proof?”
“At first, it was something I heard. Something somebody told me,” I say. “And then I saw them together, with my own eyes, the night of the fundraiser. I went to Brooks’s hospital room to speak with him alone about everything, and he claimed that he didn’t remember anything. I left to go home. There were some things I needed him to see, some things that might help him remember, and when I got back, the other woman was in there and they were discussing the pregnancy. She’s already fifteen weeks along.”
“Goddamn son of a bitch,” Dad says through clenched teeth. “I don’t believe this. I don’t want to believe this.”
Mom returns to the table, dabbing bloodshot eyes with a tissue. “We loved him like a son.”
The only other time I’d heard Mom utter those words was when Royal left.
Dad reaches across the table, palming the top of her hand.
“Your wedding,” Mom says, looking up at me.
“I’m not worried about that,” I say. “What I am worried about is how I’m going to pay back the hundred and seventy grand he racked up in credit cards. In my name.”
“What?” Dad’s expression tightens.
“Going to need your help on that,” I say.
“That makes no sense.” Derek adjusts the knot of his tie. The man can’t dress down to save his life, not since he finished law school. “Brooks has money. He manages money. He’s always been against credit cards. Buys everything in cash.”
I blow a tuft of hair from my face. “Yeah. Well. Just another one of his mastermind manipulations.”
“Where was all that money going?” Mom asks.
My shoulders lift and fall. “They were all cash advances, all taken from various ATMs in the tri-county area. We’ll never know.”
Dad’s breathing grows so loud that we all check to see if it’s our black lab, Louie, snoring in the corner. His knotty hands knead together as he concentrates on the floral centerpiece ahead of him.
Delilah whispers in my ear, asking if I’m okay, and I nod. It’s not easy telling my parents what they don’t want to hear, but I’m feeling lighter now that it’s all out.
“I wanted to wait,” I say. “I was going to wait until Brooks was better. Recovered. I wanted to do this gracefully because I know how people talk, and I know how this looks. Believe me. If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t believe the timing either.”
Dad’s heavy gaze finds mine, and he exhales slowly.
“But I couldn’t stand being next to him another minute. Not after everything he’d done.” I look to Derek, and his lips form a straight line. I’m starting to think his body language is more about his disappointment in Brooks than me. I square my shoulders with his. “I’m sorry, Derek.”
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about, kid,” he says.
I wear a weary smile. He hasn’t called me kid since we were . . . kids. As he’s just a year older than me, he always had to remind me that he was the older one.
“Brooks is a piece of shit, as far as I’m concerned,” Derek says. “And thank God you’ve got access to two of the fiercest attorneys in the state of New York.”
Mom nods, though she still looks like she’s in a daze.
“How are you doing over there, Bliss?” Dad asks. “You okay?”
“I’m fine, Robert. Just disappointed. It’s Royal all over again.” Mom’s words suck the oxygen from the room, and we all snap our gazes toward her.
Royal’s name hasn’t been muttered in this house in seven painstakingly long years.
“I never should’ve gotten attached,” she says. “I just can’t help it. I treat everyone like family. I love everyone like family. You just never expect them to let you down.”
Her words dwindle to near inaudible levels, and then she stands, releases a sigh, and leaves the room.
Dad and Derek exchange looks, and Delilah nudges me.
“I saw Royal last week,” I blurt before I chicken out.
Derek’s neck snaps back, his hands dragging down his face.
“What did you say?” My father shifts his entire body toward me.
“Actually,” I say, “I’ve been seeing a lot of him lately. He came by last week after he heard about Brooks. He’s actually been helping me—”
Dad stands, his way of telling me the conversation is over.
“Dad, hear her out,” Delilah says.
He shakes his head, stomping toward the kitchen, where he yanks a bottle of wine from the wine fridge and proceeds to pour himself a generous glass.
“Royal did something very bad, Demetria,” he says after taking a heavy sip. “He’s not the person you think he is.”
I shake my head. “Then tell me. Tell me what he did. I’m twenty-five years old. I deserve to know. I can handle it.”
His gray eyes are hooded, and he looks exhausted, though I suspect it’s more emotional than anything else.
“I can’t, Demi. I’ve protected you this long,” he says. “You’re better off not knowing. Let’s put it that way. Remember the good things about him, because this is the kind of thing you can never un-learn. This will shadow all those good memories. All those happy times. I’ve never wanted to take those away from you.”
“He’s innocent,” I say.
Dad scoffs. “You don’t even know what he did; how can you say he’s innocent?”
“I . . . I just know. It’s a gut feeling. He’s a good man. You need to meet him—the person he’s become. I want to bring him for Thanksgiving next week.” I release my hand from Delilah’s and go to my father. “Please. Give him a chance to redeem himself.”
He takes a swig of wine and flashes a hopeless frown. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard criminals profess their innocence? People like that lie all the time, about everything. They make a joke out of God-fearing people like us.”
“People like that?” I mimic his words. “Royal is one of us. He practically grew up under this roof. He played outside with us. He unwrapped Christmas presents under our tree. You were more of a father to him than all of his foster fathers combined. How can you just stand there and act like he’s trash?”