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“We’re having lasagna,” Brooks says.
“Wow. Do you cook a lot?” I’d be impressed, but I glance around the spotless kitchen and see polished steel appliances that look like they’ve never been used. There’s no way he cooks very much in here. I pull out a barstool and slide into it.
He grabs a towel and dries off the dish, placing it on the island. “I’ve probably had five meals in this kitchen and none of them were cooked by me. But I do know how to boil water, so I could live off mac n’ cheese if I needed to.” He shrugs.
“You’ve got Addison beat already,” Aiden teases. I turn and glare at him.
“I’m getting better,” I huff.
“Well, I didn’t make this. Melanie did.”
“Is that her famous lasagna?” Aiden moves to the oven and opens it, inhaling. I cock my head back, surprised, but then I remember he lived with the woman for two years when he worked for Travis.
Aiden wasn’t kidding. That was the best lasagna I’ve ever had. After dinner, we sit around the table chatting. Melanie takes Lexi back to the theater room so they can watch a movie and we can talk without little ears hearing everything.
“Have you heard anything about Jessie?” I ask. I feel Aiden tense next to me. She’s still a sore subject with him.
He nods. “The DA agreed to a plea bargain that she’ll do a year at a psych hospital of her parents’ choice. They picked one in California.” I’m relieved she won’t go to jail, but surprised they want their daughter on the other side of the country.
“What’s with California?”
He shrugs a shoulder. “I’m not sure, but her dad comes from old money so I’m thinking they are trying to quietly get her help, away from home.”
“What’s going to happen when she comes back?”
Brooks’s finger taps the table and sighs. “I don’t know. We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”
I want to tell him that Presley will need her mom and I hope they can work it out, but I stay quiet. It’s obvious neither of the guys want to talk about her anymore.
Brooks looks down the hallway where Lexi and Melanie went. “What’s going on with Lexi?”
“We’re going to apply for adoption, but not until after the wedding. I can only handle one huge, life-altering event at once. And it’ll probably help our chances if we’re married.”
“She’s an awesome little girl. Big personality.”
“That she is,” Aiden replies, smiling.
Speaking of adoptions, I ask Brooks, “How did you find out that Travis was your father?”
He sits back in his seat, splaying his legs out. “I always knew I had been adopted. When I turned eighteen, I received a trust fund. My parents weren’t poor, but there was no way they could afford giving me that much money.”
My mouth opens to ask how much, but I close it. It’s none of my business. I nod and let him continue.
“I demanded answers from my parents, and they eventually told me. So, I went to meet him.”
“I bet your meeting went better than mine.” The words slip out of my mouth before I can catch them. Aiden glances at me, lifting a brow.
“Isn’t that when you two met?”
I nod slowly. “We did.” Aiden stays quiet but sports a lopsided smile, and I bring my glass of wine to my lips.
“It couldn’t have been all that bad.”
I swallow the sip of red wine in my mouth before I choke on it. I clear my throat before continuing. “Travis held me prisoner for a week. I was handcuffed to a bed for most of it. Aiden was the guy assigned to watch over me so I didn’t escape.”
Brooks’s eyes widen. “What the hell? I thought you were FBI?”
“It wasn’t really that bad,” I say, holding my finger up. It sounds much worse than it was. Brooks looks at me like I’m nuts. I retell the story and he listens intently the whole time.
