“They moved just after I started college, so the first time I saw the place was Thanksgiving break. It’s a cute house, a little Victorian, and they have a big yard. On my first visit, my mom took me around the yard and told me about all these plans she had for a garden. I remember laughing a little, and asking her when she’d gotten so into gardening, since the most we’d ever had at our townhome was a few potted plants. And she said to me, half-joking and half-serious, something about being inspired by all the big, fancy gardens she’d had to drive by, every day, when we lived in Glenwood.”
Brooke chewed her lip, thinking about that. “It was this strange moment, because, as a teenager, I’d really only thought about how it felt for me to live in the ‘poor’ part of town, and how much harder I had always had to work for everything. But then I kind of put it together, the fact that my parents had put their place on the market the week after I’d graduated, and realized that they’d probably been wanting to get out of that place for a long time. But they’d stayed for me, so that I could get the education they thought I deserved. That was . . . a little humbling.” She looked at him across the bed. “I just don’t want to let them down. It’s like, sometimes I feel this weight, the pressure of everything everyone in the Parker family, including myself, has done for me to get where I am today.”
She peered at him, appearing surprised. “I’ve never said that to anyone. Not even Ford.”
“Why tell me?” he asked huskily.
“I don’t know . . .” She studied him, then shrugged, deliberately teasing. “Maybe I just wanted to talk. And you happened to be here.”
“I feel so used.”
She laughed, just like he’d hoped. And when she curled closer to him, he felt it—that same tightening in his chest. He looked down at her, turning more serious. “I’m sure, more than anything, your parents just want you to be happy.”
Brooke nodded, as if mulling this over. “Well, and I am happy, obviously,” she said, almost as an afterthought. She changed the subject. “What about your parents? Are they in Chicago?”
It was a perfectly innocuous question. Cade started with the easy part. “My mom lives in Scottsdale. She got married after I graduated from college and moved shortly after that. It was kind of weird when she got married, because it had always been just the two of us, but I’m happy for her. Kent, her husband, is a good guy.”
He paused, falling silent for a long moment before something drove him on. “Do you remember that night we met at Bar Nessuno, when I showed up late?”
Brooke nodded. “You said you’d had a strange day.”
“The reason I was running late was because my sixteen-year-old half brother, who I didn’t know existed, showed up at my office out of the blue.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, wow.”
“That was basically my reaction at first.”
“How did you not know he existed?” she asked.
Certainly a fair question, so Cade thought about where to go from there. He’d avoided talking about Noah for so long, it wasn’t easy to know where to start. “I’ve only met my father once. My mom got pregnant when they were in high school and he bailed on us. I was ten when he finally decided to show up. He came to my house, and I was furious with him for not being around. But then we went out into the yard and played football, and it was good. Really good. Like, suddenly there was this person I barely knew who fit into my life so perfectly.” Cade’s tone turned dry. “Of course, it was all an illusion.”
“What happened?” Brooke asked.
“When we’d finished playing football, Noah—my father—asked if I wanted to go to the Bears game with him the following weekend. He never showed up that day. Or any other day afterward.”
Cade lay there, debating, before he continued. “I know the exact moment I pushed him away. It was when I called him ‘Dad.’ I saw the panic in his eyes, and I think, deep down, that a part of me knew right then that I’d blown it. For years, I wished I could go back and change that one moment, wished I could tell myself to keep it in check, and just not care so much. Because in the end, I was setting myself up for a huge disappointment.”
After a pause, he looked at Brooke. “I’ve never told anyone that before.”
She held his gaze. “What made you tell me?”
He pretended to think about that. “Maybe I wanted to talk, and you just happened to be here.” When she smiled, he reached over and pulled her closer, their naked limbs tangling together as she rested her head against his chest.
Tomorrow morning he would undoubtedly start to sweat, big-time, thinking about why he’d decided to share more about his past with Brooke than he ever had with anyone else.
But right then, with her lying in his arms, he wouldn’t change a thing.
Twenty-four
SAFE TO SAY, Friday was not a banner day for Sterling Restaurants.
Brooke spent the majority of her afternoon in her office with Keith, Sterling’s VP of security, who’d received an anonymous call earlier in the week from a woman claiming to work at one of the restaurants at the United Center. She’d told Keith that the general manager of the restaurant had been stealing from the company for the last few months by voiding out cash sales from the point-of-sale machine at the end of the night.
At first, both Brooke and Keith had been skeptical.
“Dave’s been with Sterling for seven years,” she’d said, referring to the general manager in question. “He and Ian golf together all the time. He wouldn’t steal from the company, let alone a friend.”
“Could be a disgruntled employee or ex-employee trying to make trouble,” Keith had said.
“We’ll find out soon enough.” They’d agreed that Keith would conduct an immediate internal investigation and report back to her.
And now they knew.
“I’d really hoped this one would go the other way,” Keith said. Even the normally unflappable VP of security looked dejected after filling Brooke in on the results of his internal audit. Bottom line: the allegations against the general manager appeared to be true.
Brooke sighed, a mixture of frustration, anger, and disappointment. Firing some random homophobic jerk she’d never met was easy, but she knew Dave Lyons—he was a senior-level employee whose wife she enjoyed chatting with every year at the company holiday party. “I’ll talk to Ian and bring him up to speed. He’s going to be crushed.”
“For what it’s worth, I think Dave is in trouble financially,” Keith said. “I’m hearing rumors about a gambling problem.”
That certainly didn’t make Brooke feel any better about the situation. “When do you plan to talk to him?”
“He should be at the restaurant now,” Keith said. “Figured I would get this over with before the weekend.”
Agreeing with that, Brooke counseled Keith on the various questions he should—and more important, should not— ask when he interviewed the general manger. When they’d finished, and Keith had left to head out to the United Center, Brooke went to see Ian in his office.
She knocked on his door. “Got a minute?”
Sitting in front of his computer, he waved her in. “Absolutely. Just checking out the Bears’ schedule in advance of your big meeting and making sure I have all the home games on my calendar. Kidding.” He paused when he saw her expression. “Oh, boy. I know that look.” He turned in his chair and faced her, never one to beat around the bush. “Tell me.”
“We think Dave Lyons has been stealing from the Stadium Club.”
Ian’s expression went from surprise to disbelief. “No way. Dave and I have known each other for years. He was the manager I hired to run my first restaurant.” He shook his head. “There must be some mistake.”