Page 127 of The Best of Us

“The one Renaud co-owns as well?” Mom beat Dad to the punch, instantly making The League connection.

“Yup,” I confirmed. “That’d be the one.” I shared a few words in Italian to reassure my parents that Juliette already knew about my past, and hopefully, that’d slow their racing hearts and calm the storms in their minds.

“And Juliette is still here after knowing all that?” Dad asked, his shock not going anywhere despite my best efforts.

And, of course,nowhe chose to switch to English.Thanks for that.

Juliette raised her hand like a student, offering a shy smile. “That she is.”

This woman kept blowing me away at every turn, and it wouldn’t take my parents long to understand why my connection and attraction to her ran much deeper than the physical.

“His eyes doth see what his mind doesn’t accept,” my mother spoke up, possibly paraphrasing Shakespeare or making up her own version.

“Anything else I should know that might rock the ground beneath my feet?” My father swiped a hand along his black-and-silver-trimmed beard, studying me like a man wondering how I’d survived my own fair share of earthquake revelations.

I rounded the sofa, drawing closer to where my father stood. The tremor of shock still ran through me and sparked a memory, one I should have connected sooner. “There is something.” I pinched the bridge of my nose.

How had I not thought of this before? Then again, I’d been in survival mode all weekend. I could probably cut myself some slack.

“What is it?” Juliette’s voice pulled my head upright, my hand falling to my side.

I met my father’s gaze before dropping what I hoped would be the final bomb of the night. “Juliette’s father owns the brand Legacy Ridge Bourbon.”

“You’re a Carmichael?” my father asked her, unable to shake the astonishment from his tone.

My mother was probably clueless about why he was familiar with her last name.

“Yes. Do you enjoy bourbon as much as Constantine?” Juliette asked, not catching on to my father’s confusion. And there was no way she would unlessherfather had been honest with her—what was it?—twelve or thirteen years ago.

“I do,” he answered her, eyes shooting to me.

Of course he had questions. Who wouldn’t? If I were in his shoes, I’d have quite a few.

I adjusted my hat, swirling it around face forward to better shield my eyes from my father’s sudden scrutiny. “No, I had no clue her family owned the brand back then. No clue she was a Carmichael. Juliette recommended the drink to me in Aruba, and because of her, I became obsessed with it.” I laid out the truth as quickly as possible.

“You’re obsessed with Grandpa’s bourbon?” At Colin’s question, I redirected my attention to his narrowed, curious eyes.

I took a deep breath to power through, doing something I never did—openly talk about myself in front of others. “Yes, I drank it because of your mom, never knowing your last name was staring me in the face on the bottle.”

From my peripheral view, I noticed Hudson urging Izzy to leave the room with him.

Mom set aside the photo album and stood, gently reaching for Colin’s arm to rise, which he did.

“You’re wrong.” Colin pulled his hand free from my mother’s hold to fidget with the drawstrings of his hoodie. “Carmichael’s not my last name.” He gave me a lopsided smile. “Well, it won’t be for much longer.”

My mom closed her eyes, and I knew she was fighting tears, while my father rested his hand over his heart as if the pressure in his chest was getting to him. Welcome to how I’ve felt all weekend.

Mom opened her eyes and looked directly at Colin. “Let’s get you a snack while they talk?” She picked up the photo album and held it out toward the kitchen.

“Colin,” I called after him as he started to follow her out. “I’d like that.” Juliette and I had already spoken about this, but hearing the words from his mouth made it that much more real.

He smiled, then disappeared from the room with my mother.

“There’s more to this story, isn’t there?” Juliette stood and brought her fingers beneath her eyes, catching her tears.

I tipped my head to my father, offering him the floor to speak.

“An old friend of mine is a major alcohol distributor.” My father slipped his hands into his pockets, focusing on her. “It was maybe twelve years ago he told me he heard from a reliable source that Legacy Ridge was in trouble. He knew it was Constantine’s favorite, so he told me to stock up because they'd be going out of business unless the company had a large infusion of cash.”

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