She gives my arm a squeeze and escorts me into the kitchen, where Mom, Dad, and Derek sit with despondent faces and folded hands. They look like a three-person judge and jury, and this entire setup reminds me of those ridiculous family meetings we used to have every Monday night growing up.
Great. I haven’t had a chance to plead my case, and already they’re looking at me like I’m guilty.
“Before you say anything.” I take a seat across from Derek. If I’m going to be staring straight ahead at anyone, I choose him. “You should know that Brooks isn’t who you think he is.”
Dad clears his throat, adjusting his posture and narrowing his stare.
“I just want to know what the hell is going on,” he says.
Mom clamps her hand loosely across her lips, her eyes glassy. I know that look. She’s so choked up she can’t bring herself to utter a single word.
“You should’ve seen Brooks this morning,” Dad says. “He lost it. Never seen a man in worse shape than that.”
Mom clutches at her heart, eyes averted.
Brooks is a manipulator. Those were faux tears. He sucked them all into his maelstrom with a convincing show of shallow emotions.
“He’s playing the victim,” I say. My lips part as I attempt to elaborate, but my words are cut short by the wooden smack of my father’s balled fist against the table.
I jump.
Delilah reaches for my hand, giving it a quick squeeze.
“Demetria, you’re a grown woman. You need to accept responsibility for your actions. Coming in here, immediately placing all the blame on Brooks, is grossly immature and irresponsible of you.” My father’s face is the same color of Brooks’s Porsche. He sucks in air, holding his breath between words. Something he only does when he’s stark raving mad. “Now tell me, why the hell would you break up with your fiancé after he’s just been in a car accident? Do you have any idea how that looks? How that makes us look to the community? The entire town is going to be talking about this by Monday.”
“Dad.” I love that Delilah has the courage to interrupt one of his rant sessions, because I sure as hell don’t. “You need to hear her out.”
Derek sits across from me, shoulders slanted, seething, shooting silent daggers my way.
“Okay, Demi. Tell us. What’s going on? What did Brooks do to deserve this?” Derek asks. For a second, I feel betrayed. I thought he was on my side.
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.”