He glanced at his aunt. “Go on. Please,” he said gently. “I’d really like to understand.”
Darla swallowed hard. “Well, your father was always somewhat of…an individual. He did things his own way.”
Sophie chuckled. “Like father like son, apparently.”
“It would seem so.” The older woman eased herself into one of the kitchen chairs and gripped the armrests. “Except in Spencer’s case, he was an athlete, a guy who loved everything masculine and sports oriented—including other men. It just wasn’t an accepted thing back then.” She shook her head. “So he did what I suspect many gay people did. He tried not to be what he really was.”
“And that’s when he met my mother?”
Darla nodded. “Rose and I hoped he could make it work. He hoped he could make it work. He loved her, he really did.”
“He just couldn’t be in love with her,” Sophie murmured.
“Exactly. This isn’t my story to tell, but that’s exactly why I pretended not to know who you were yesterday. It’s what Spencer always did and I thought it wasn’t my place to change things.”
“Amy did,” Riley said.
“Amy’s smarter than I am. Anyway, that’s behind us now. I want to know you, Riley. I want us to try to be some sort of family.”
Riley stepped closer to this strange but obviously loving woman. “I am not angry with you. I couldn’t be. You didn’t put this whole thing in motion, like you said. But…”
She glanced up. “What?”
He hated to hurt her, but what choice did he have? “But things have to go on as they always were.” They couldn’t have the relationship she wanted.
No family barbecues, no bailing her out of jail, no getting to know each other. He went on to explain about his mother and stepfather, the family who’d raised him and the career aspirations that couldn’t possibly accommodate these wacky, eccentric, unconventional people related to Riley by blood.
Darla nodded. Then she said all the right things and claimed to understand. But when she left, her shoulders were slumped and her eyes damp. He’d disappointed her in a soul-deep way, something Riley understood all too well.
He turned to Sophie. “How the hell did I become the bad guy?” He’d only requested they maintain the status quo, something her brother had put into place.
She touched his arm. “Hey. Everyone involved here understands the idea of protecting family. Look how Darla just protected Spencer. She won’t hold this against you.”
“I don’t care if she does.” The words slipped out before he could censor them.
“Forgive me if I don’t believe you. Still, you did what you had to do,” she said with complete understanding.
“And now we can leave. I’ll see about a flight home.”
“I already did. There’s nothing until tomorrow. I booked us an early flight in the morning.” She shrugged. “It’s the best I could do.”
He paced the kitchen, uncomfortable in this house and in his own skin. “I can’t spend the day here wondering if any of the family is going to show up,” he said, more to himself than to Sophie.
“If it helps, Spencer’s already left. He went standby and was able to take the earliest flight to New York.”
He exhaled hard. At least he wouldn’t have to run into his father.
“I could be persuaded to walk Worth Avenue,” Sophie said of the ritzy street in Palm Beach lined with exclusive shops.
He laughed. “I’d rather play strip poker with Darla and Rose.” The pathetic thing was, they’d probably be more than willing. “As long as we’re in Florida, let’s go to the beach.”
“Buy me a piña colada and I could be persuaded—after I check in at the office.” Sophie grinned, a sinful smile full of sex and promise.
After last night, he knew she would make good. “Darlin’, I’ll buy you anything you want.” Because with Sophie, he knew he could put this entire father mess out of his head while she drove him out of his mind.
WAVES RUSHED against the shore and water lapped at his feet. They’d driven to Fort Lauderdale, to a beach by one of the bigger hotels. Abandoning their shoes, they walked along the edge of the water, hand in hand.
“I am loving this,” Sophie murmured.