“Well, add this interview to that growing list,” he scoffed. “This and working for Colby, for chrissakes.”
Working for Colby might be a mistake, but not because of Joe. Alec had relived their recent kiss every ten minutes in the days since it happened. Of course, they’d both pretended to set it aside and move on, but he suspected she hadn’t found that any easier to do than he had. There were feelings there that wanted to be explored.
Too bad timing and truth stood between them. That and Alec’s father, who’d be doubly enraged to learn Alec wanted to get closer to Colby.
“Frank, settle down.” Alec’s mother took her glass to the sink and stared out the window, shoulders rounded. She’d always daydreamed in that spot, although Alec suspected she’d had more waking nightmares than daydreams these past two years. With her back to them, she said, “Stop yelling at Alec.”
“Don’t defend him. Not on this.” His dad pointed at the discarded newspaper even though she wasn’t looking. “There’s no excuse for making Joe look bad when he’s not here to tell his side.”
She whirled around, her finger jabbing the air. “Don’t you keep pushing our son away! You act like you’re the only one who lost something when Joe died. Like you have the right to control how we all deal with making peace with it.” Her voice cracked. “Let me tell you something, Frank. You don’t get to deny Alec the right to talk about his grief. And you don’t get to rain on his chance to reclaim his old life, either.”
When a sob broke through that final statement, she rushed out of the kitchen. In the distance, Alec heard her bedroom door close. He stared at the space she’d vacated, shocked. The pain in her voice had punched his chest harder than any blow his dad’s barbs could land.
“See what you’ve done now?” His father glared at him, paying no attention to his wife’s warning.
Alec could explode from anger. Lord knew he had plenty in reserve. But he wanted a family that functioned, even if it would never be whole again. He couldn’t fix what had broken between his brother and him, but as long as his parents were alive, he had a chance to fix this. He just didn’t know how. Maybe if he acted more like Joe, his father would respect him more.
What would Joe do?
Joe would fight back.
“I’m sorry I upset you, but I didn’t vilify Joe. I just explained what happened with Une Bouchée. I’ve got a shot at recovering from that, and I’m taking it. Mom’s right about one other thing. You aren’t the only one who grieves Joe’s death.” Alec stood and evenly met his father’s furious gaze. Wiping any trace of bitterness from his voice, he said, “We all know he was your favorite. But why keep pushing Mom and me away? Don’t we mean anything to you?”
“Now the melodrama.” His father gruffly waved his hand. “You should’ve pranced around the stage instead of becoming a chef.”
“You spit that out like what I do is pathetic.” The blatant prejudice practically begged Alec’s temper to join the party. “I’m outstanding in my field. And, by the way, my job requires as much stamina and discipline as yours, maybe more. You might know that if you ever bothered to take any interest in what I do.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” His father’s derisive laugh scalded like a steam burn. “You cook, Alec. You don’t save lives. You don’t face danger.”
“Now who’s being ridiculous?” Alec scoffed. “You and Joe faced the ‘mean streets’ of Lake Sandy—shoplifting, petty theft, vandalism. Not exactly Detroit or Baltimore.”
“We weren’t making pastries!” His father’s stupefied expression might have been funny under other circumstances.
Despite his father’s reddened cheeks, Alec remained calm. In fact, they almost egged him on. With a casual shrug, he quipped, “No, just eating them in the patrol car.”
“What?” Outrage turned his dad’s face aubergine.
“You heard me.” Alec forced himself to stand tall. “People worldwide revere chefs like Roger Vergé and Alain Ducasse, yet you disdain them and me. Maybe you’re just too ignorant to appreciate us.”
“You think you’re some hotshot because you lived in Europe. Like the fact you speak French makes you better than me and your brother.” His dad snorted. “Don’t you ever call me ignorant!”
Apparently, his dad’s glass house couldn’t withstand a single pebble. Alec’s insult had shattered another attempt at reason. Maybe one day they’d manage a civil disagreement. Just not today. “Fine. Forget it.”