Page 26 of The Man I Once Hated

His eyes are like cool steel when he looks at me. “Our little escapade has made me a press favorite, Cara. Why would I do something like that?”

12

Edward

“You’re late.” My father doesn’t even look up as I walk out onto the patio.

I ignore him just as much, and move around the table to kiss my mother on her cheek, then my grandmother, before taking my seat between them. It’s a seating arrangement that’s been in place since my junior year of high school. A necessary buffer for the Spencer men.

“Are you sleeping?” my mother asks with that familiar tone of concern she has when she talks to me. “You look like you haven’t been sleeping.”

I open my mouth to answer but my father interjects, as is his way with these kinds of things.

“Who needs sleep when there’s so much partying that needs to happen, right, Edward?” This time he looks at me, his face a stern block of ice.

Even if I were to think back to my earliest childhood memory, I don’t think I’d find one with him smiling. I can’t even use our photo albums for an idea of what that looks like because there isn’t one captured there either.

Back in college Ethan had asked me how someone as soft and caring as my mother could end up with someone like him, and I didn’t have an answer. For years I’ve been perplexed by it. I used to be convinced he had two separate personalities - saving the nice one for my mother. The older I get, the more I realize that he’s just a straight up dick and my mother’s got a serious degradation kink.

“I’m sleeping fine, Mom.” I force a smile, settling my napkin on my lap. “Gram slipped me some of her sleeping pills the last time I was here.”

I throw my grandmother a wink and she chuckles mischievously. It’s a lie, but the two of us have the same predilection for getting a rise out of people. She’s always telling me ‘I’ll have my kicks as long as I’m not dead’.

It works and my mother looks at us both, aghast, while my father shakes his head in disappointment.

“I keep telling you those things need to be under lock,” he chastises my mother. “She shouldn’t be self-medicating at her age.”

“At my age?” my grandmother pipes up, her back straight. “And what age would that be, Edward?”

My father squirms in his seat. The only person who can get him to do it. “I’m just saying, mother. It’ll take a load off your mind if you don’t have to worry about things like that.”

Gram scoffs at him, taking a sip of her own champagne as she mumbles under her breath. Something about her mind being just fine as long as he left her alone. I share her sentiment. I’m sure all of us at that table would feel more sane if we didn’t have to put up with the likes of Edward senior.

“Eat,” he grunts at me. “Your mother wanted this brunch with us together and I don’t have all day. Unlike some people, I actually earn my money.”

I bite down on my tongue to keep my scathing response from flying out. He’s asking for it, but my mother isn’t. Instead, I distract myself with the food. My stomach grumbles at the sight of the spread in front of me. Instead of losing my appetite in stressful situations, I’ve always been the type of guy who eats his way through it. Today, the chef has pulled out all the stops with brunch. Of course, the first order of business is to top up my glass with champagne. I know I’ll be needing it.

“Speaking of…” My mother clears her throat. I cringe inwardly at what’s coming. She’s going to try and make me look good in front of my father and I hate it when she does that. It always backfires. “How are things with your investment in the Philippines?”

Shit. She had to go there.

“It fell through. Didn’t you hear?” my father asks through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “Edward has now shifted his focus to unknown actresses and decrepit community theaters.”

He glowers at me, daring me to say something. To snatch at the dangling carrot. I never wanted anything so badly in my life. Squaring off with him has always been my weakness. The one thing I can’t resist.

Gram reaches out and puts her hand over mine and gives it a light pat. “I’m sure she’s pretty, though. Right?”

I smile weakly and turn my attention to filling my plate. I grab one of everything, taking bites out of my toast as I go.

“Tell me more about this theater,” my mother tries again. “I think it’s wonderful that you’re nurturing your philanthropic side.”

“Philanthropic?” My father’s eyes practically bulge from his head, bits of food spraying everywhere. “You know this is Edward we’re talking about?”

“Why am I even here if you won’t let me fucking speak?” I beat my fist on the table and it sends the cutlery clanging.

My family looks at me, eyes wide, mouths open. Except for Gram. She nods slowly in her chair. And knowing that she has my back gives me what I need to follow through.

“Goddammit, Dad. I didn’t want to do this, but you keep pushing and pushing-”

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