The Perfect Homecoming (Pine River #3)

Had she really just shouted that? Judging by the number of mouths hanging open, she had. Emma sank back into her chair, curling her hands into tight fists as she sought her footing. She never let her emotions get the best of her. She kept it all at arm’s length. She should never have said it, but Libby . . . Libby! Emma just couldn’t listen to Libby defend him one more time.

“That’s not funny, Emma,” Libby said, her voice shaking.

“Wait, wait—who is Laura?” Madeline demanded, frowning at Emma as if she suspected her of intentionally causing trouble.

“My stepsister,” Emma muttered.

“Oh, that’s right,” Madeline said, her voice full of surprise, her eyes widening with shock as she slowly sank back in her chair. “Seriously, Emma, is that your idea of a joke? Because she’s, like, your age, isn’t she?”

“Seven months older than me,” Emma bit out.

“I don’t believe you!” Libby said angrily, ignoring Sam’s hand on her arm. “I know you didn’t like Dad, but what you said is not true, Emma! Why the hell would you say something like that?”

“It is true, Libby,” Emma said wearily.

“Oh really?” Libby demanded. “So when exactly did this happen? When he was dying of cancer?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “No. Obviously that wouldn’t have happened. It was a long time ago, when I was seventeen. He’d invited Laura and me to Vegas. She’d just turned eighteen, old enough not to get him arrested, and . . .” She shrugged. It was impossible to even say it. It was still so goddamn difficult to wrap her mind around.

“And what?” Libby asked, her voice full of hurt now.

Why did Libby always carry so much hope that people would act right? Hadn’t she seen enough in her life to know they rarely did? “They had an affair, Libby. It went on all summer long until I discovered it. Laura and Dad had a sexual affair for an entire summer.”

“Good God,” Sam muttered. Libby was staring at Emma in shock.

“I’m sorry,” Emma said. “But I can’t let you convince everyone at this table that Grant was a good guy in spite of the way he treated us. He wasn’t a good guy—he was a total dick.”

“Oh my God,” Madeline said. “He was a dick!”

Emma pointed at Madeline and said to Libby, “See?” realizing, for perhaps the first time, that if there was anyone who would share her outrage about Grant and Laura, it would be Madeline and Libby. Why hadn’t she considered it before this moment?

“You know what I see? I see someone who is hell-bent on ruining everything about this family,” Libby said angrily.

Emma hadn’t intended to ruin the evening. She hadn’t intended . . .

Oh hell, who knew what she intended anymore? That’s what she always told herself, she didn’t intend to do anything, and yet, she somehow managed to do it. Emma stood up and gathered some plates. “I’m not going to apologize for telling you the truth, Libby. But a word of advice—don’t let it get to you. Don’t let it screw you up. God knows I let it get to me, and look at me now. But the man is gone, and he’s not going to come back and right his wrongs.”

Libby shook her head and stared down at her plate.

Emma looked away from her wounded sister—and right into the eyes of Cooper.

He didn’t seem shocked by her admission. He looked almost as if he’d expected it.

“Okay, well, enough of Grant,” Libby said, waving her hands, erasing him from family night as Emma picked up more dishes and headed for the kitchen. “So! The big game is next week, huh, Luke?” she asked, desperately trying to turn the conversation to something else.

Emma walked into the kitchen and stacked the dishes in the sink. She heard someone come in behind her and assumed it was Madeline. She steeled herself for the lecture she was sure she’d get. But when she turned, it wasn’t Madeline who’d followed her, it was Cooper, carrying a lasagna pan and the bowl of salad.

“I insisted on helping,” he said. “Does that make it lucky you or lucky me?”

“Shit. You again,” Emma groaned, and turned on the faucet.

Cooper walked up behind her and deliberately reached around her, his body against her back, to put the lasagna pan on the counter. Emma closed her eyes for a moment and let the feeling of him sink into her pores.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice soft.

She opened her eyes, surprised by that. “No you’re not. You deliberately put the pan there.”

“I mean, I’m sorry about your father. That must have been very hard for you.”

Bittersweet emotion began to close Emma’s throat. He was sympathizing with her? She shot him a skeptical look. “Let me guess—next you’ll ask if it’s true, right?”

“No. I feel pretty confident that no one would make that up.”

That much was definitely true.

“You must have been so disappointed in them both. I would have been. I understand how it must have made you feel.”

Emma snorted. “How could you?”

“You know the brother I mentioned? He’s in prison for armed robbery.”

Emma stilled for a moment. She looked at him, waiting for a but, or a joke.

“Are you going to ask me if that’s true?” he asked.

Emma blinked. “No . . . I feel pretty confident that no one would make that up,” she murmured.