An hour later, Hayden was standing outside the lavish ten-bedroom home her father had bought for Sheila. It was only a few blocks from the Gallagher Club, in the heart of one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in Chicago.
After what happened at the restaurant, there was no way Hayden could ignore Sheila’s accusations anymore. Although a part of her still didn’t fully trust her stepmother, she knew this conversation was long overdue. And if she had more information, maybe she could find a way to help her dad.
Because if his recent behavior was any indication, her father definitely needed some help.
Sheila answered the door wearing sweats, her expression clearly conveying her surprise at seeing her soon-to-be ex-stepdaughter standing on the pillared doorstep. Hayden had called ahead, but Sheila still seemed startled to find her there.
“Hayden, hi. I…uh… I’m still confused by your call. What’s this about?”
Hayden fumbled awkwardly with the strap of her leather purse. “Like I said, I think we should talk.”
With a nod, Sheila opened the door wider so Hayden could step inside. The enormous front parlor, with its sparkling crystal chandelier, was as intimidating as it had been the first time she’d seen it. The white walls were devoid of artwork, a sight that made her frown. She’d encouraged her father to pick up pieces at auctions she’d recommended, but it looked as if he hadn’t bothered.
“So what’s on your mind?” Sheila asked after they’d entered the living room.
Hayden sat on one of the fluffy teal love seats, waited for Sheila to sink down on the matching sofa, then cleared her throat. “I want you to tell me about my father’s drinking.”
Her stepmother raked one delicate hand through her blond hair, then clasped her hands together in her lap. “What do you want to know?”
“When did he start?”
“Last year, about the same time the pharmaceutical company he’d invested in went bankrupt. He lost a lot of money, tried to recoup it by making more investments and lost that, too.”
Sheila spoke in a steady, confident voice. It didn’t sound like she was lying, and Hayden fought back a wave of guilt as she realized that if this were true, she’d had absolutely no idea any of it had been going on. Her father always sounded so jovial on the phone, as if he had no cares in the world.
Was she a terrible daughter for not seeing through the lies?
“He didn’t want to worry you,” Sheila added, as if reading her mind.
“So that’s when he started drinking?”
Her stepmother nodded. “At first, it was just a drink or two in the evenings, but the worse the situation got, the more he drank. I tried talking to him about it. I told him it was becoming a problem, but he refused to hear it. That’s when…” Sheila’s voice drifted.
“That’s when what?”
“He slept with another woman.”
A silence fell between them, but this time Hayden didn’t try to defend her father. That day at the law office, she’d believed Sheila to be a heartless lying bitch who was baselessly accusing Pres of adultery. But after his blowup at the Gallagher Club and discovering this morning that his water glass was full of vodka, Hayden couldn’t deny her dad had a problem. And if that problem had driven him to cheat, she needed to accept it. No point sticking her head in the sand and pretending things were okay, when they obviously weren’t.
So she leaned back and allowed Sheila to continue.
“He told me what he’d done the next morning, blamed me for his infidelity, said my constant nagging forced him to do it.” Sheila made an exasperated sound. “And he kept denying he had an alcohol problem. I might have been able to forgive him for the affair, but I couldn’t look away while he destroyed the life we’d built.”
“What happened?”
“I confronted him again and ordered him to get help.”
“I take it he didn’t agree.”
“No.” Sheila’s features twisted in distress and anger. “He only got worse. A couple nights later, I came home from the gym and found him in the study, drunk out of his mind. That’s when he confessed about the games he’d fixed.”
A rush of protectiveness rose inside her. “It could have been the alcohol talking. Maybe he didn’t know what he was saying.”
“He knew.” Sheila offered a knowing look. “And what he said was confirmed to me by a player on the team.”
“The one you’re sleeping with?” Hayden couldn’t help cracking.
Two red circles splotched Sheila’s cheeks. “Don’t judge me, Hayden. I may have turned to another man, but only after your father betrayed me. Pres pushed me away long before I did what I did.”
Her mouth closed. Sheila was right. Who the hell was she to judge? What happened within a marriage wasn’t anybody’s business but the people who were married, and she couldn’t make assumptions or draw conclusions about a situation she hadn’t been a part of.
And if she were to draw conclusions, it startled her to realize she actually believed Sheila. She might not approve of Sheila’s contesting of the prenup, but Hayden couldn’t bring herself to brush off what her stepmother had told her.
If her father had really bribed players, what would happen to him if—when?—the investigation revealed the truth? Would he get off with a fine, or would she be visiting him in prison this time next year? Fear trickled through her, settling in her stomach and making her nauseated.
With a sympathetic look and a soft sigh, Sheila said, “Things aren’t always as they seem. People aren’t always as they seem.” She averted her eyes, but not before Hayden saw the tears coating her lashes. “Do you want to know why I married your father?”
For his money?
She quickly swallowed down the nasty remark, but Sheila must have seen it in her eyes because she said, “The money was part of it. I know you probably won’t understand, but I didn’t have a lot of financial security growing up. My parents were dirt-poor. My father ran off with what little money we did have, and I was working by the time I was thirteen.” She shrugged. “Maybe I was selfish for wanting a man who could take care of me, for wanting some security.”
Sheila paused, shaking her head as if reprimanding herself.
“But the money wasn’t the only reason. If it was, I would have married one of the many rich jerks who showed up at the bar I waitressed at, pinching my ass and trying to get me into bed. But I didn’t marry one of those guys. I married your dad.”
“Why?” Hayden asked quietly, strangely fascinated by her stepmother’s story.
“Because he was one of the good guys. I wasted so much time on the bad boys, the guys who light your body on fire but end up burning you out in the end. I was sick of it, so I decided to find myself a Mr. Nice—a decent, stable man who might not be the most exciting man in the world but who’d always be there for me, always put me first. Financially and emotionally.”
A wave of discomfort crested in Hayden’s stomach, slowly rising inside her until it lodged in her throat. She never thought she’d have anything in common with this woman, but everything Sheila just said mirrored the thoughts Hayden had been having for years now. Wasn’t that why she’d chosen Doug? Because he was nice, decent and stable? Because he’d always put her first?
“But nice men aren’t necessarily the right men,” Sheila finished. “Nice men make mistakes, too. They can take you for granted and they can play with your emotions, just like those bad boys I wanted so badly to get away from.”
“Did you ever love him?” Hayden couldn’t help but ask.
“Was I madly, passionately in love with him? No. But that’s not what I wanted from our relationship. I don’t trust that feeling anymore. But I did love him deeply. And I respected him.” Sheila swiped at the tears staining her cheeks and lifted her chin. “Your father hurt me, Hayden. If he’d truly loved me, he would’ve seen that I was only trying to help him, that I wanted to be there for him the way I thought he’d be there for me. But he wasn’t there for me.”
A sigh slipped out. “I’m sorry.”
“I feel awful about not being able to get him help for the drinking, I really do, but I couldn’t accept the way he was treating me. He fucked another woman, he lied about his criminal actions and now he’s making me out to be a selfish gold digger.” With a bitter smile, Sheila leaned forward and stared at her with sad blue eyes. “How’s that for Mr. Nice?”
Hayden left with no real idea how to help her dad, and even more concerned about his possible criminal activities. If anything, she was just as confused and upset as she’d been when she rang Sheila’s doorbell.
Her phone rang the second she got into her car, and just when she thought this day from hell couldn’t get any worse, it did. Doug was calling.
God, she couldn’t deal with this right now. But she couldn’t keep avoiding her issues any longer, either. Today she’d finally opened her eyes to the downward spiral of her father’s life, started to accept that her father might have become an alcoholic, adulterer and criminal.
Maybe it was time to face the other man in her life.
The last time she’d spoken to Doug, she told him she still needed space. But she didn’t need that space anymore. Because, somehow, over the past few weeks, her casual fling with Brody Croft had…changed.
She couldn’t pinpoint when the change had occurred. All she knew was that since they’d gone skating after the Gallagher Club, she and Brody had been having fun not only in the bedroom, but out of it as well. They’d gone back to the Lakeshore Lounge for dinner. And Brody had even taken her to the Art Institute of Chicago yesterday morning after hockey practice, where he spent the entire day following her from painting to painting and listening to her rave about each one. She’d been a little worried going out with him in public, but nobody had recognized him, fortunately. The baseball cap he’d worn, pulled low over his eyes, had probably helped with that.
What wasn’t fun, however, was having him fly to another city every other day. It just gave her flashbacks of her father’s coaching days. Having to say goodbye to him all the time. Being left at home to fend for herself while he gave all his attention to his team. Each time Brody left to catch his flight this week, she’d had to bite her tongue. Had to remind herself that no matter how much she was enjoying being with him, this was still a fling.
And flings always came to an end at some point.
As her phone continued to ring, Hayden took a deep breath.
She needed to pick up. Doug had sent her three messages this week, growing more and more concerned with each text. He probably thought she was lying dead in a ditch somewhere, and she was disgusted with herself for her inability to deal with this head-on.
No more stalling. She’d already endured one unwanted confrontation today. Might as well make it two for two.
“Thank God,” Doug said when she answered. “I was beginning to think something terrible had happened to you.”
His obvious relief caused guilt to buzz around in her belly. She felt like total slime for making him worry like this.
“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” she replied, her fingers trembling against the phone. “I’m sorry I didn’t respond to your texts. Things have been hectic.”
“I can imagine.” He paused. “Some of the papers here are running stories about your father, honey.”
“Yeah, it’s happening here, too. I’m starting to get worried,” she admitted.
Confiding in him came as naturally as brushing her teeth in the morning. She’d always been able to talk to Doug about everything. Whether it was problems at the university or something as minor as a bad haircut, he was always there to listen. It was one of the things she liked about him.
Liked.
The word hung in her mind, making her tap one hand against the steering wheel. She liked everything about this man. His patience, his tenderness, his generosity. And she was certain that once he finally decided the time was right for them to get physical, she’d like that, too.
And that was the problem. She wasn’t sure she could spend the rest of her life with a man she simply liked. Sure, sometimes love took time to develop, feelings could grow, friends could realize they were soulmates…at least that was what she’d always believed.
After meeting Brody, she was starting to reconsider.
She didn’t just like sleeping with Brody. The sex was wild, passionate, all-consuming. When he kissed her, when he wrapped those big, muscular arms around her, the ground beneath her feet fell away, her body sizzled like asphalt in a heat wave and her heart soared higher than a fighter jet.
When Doug kissed her…none of those things happened. His kisses were sweet and tender, and she really did like them—damn, there was that word again.
“Hayden, are you there?”
She forced her mind back to the moment, to this conversation she’d been putting off for too long. “Sorry, I just spaced out for a second. What were you saying?”
“I want to come visit you in Chicago.”
She nearly dropped the phone. “What? Why?”
“I keep thinking about what you said when we last spoke. I know you asked for space, but…” A heavy breath resonated from the other end of the line. “I think space will only lead to distance, and the last thing I want is distance between us. Maybe if I come out there, maybe if we sat down together and talked this through, we could figure out why you’re feeling the way you are.”
“Doug…” She searched for the right thing to say. Was there even a right thing? “This is something I need to figure out on my own.”
“I’m part of this, too,” he pointed out.
“I know, but…”
Tell him about Brody.
Fuck. Why did her conscience have to chime in right now? She already felt shitty enough, sleeping with a man a few short weeks after telling her ex she needed space. Could she really confess her sins, now, when Doug was so eager to patch things up between them?
You don’t have a choice.
As much as she wanted to fight her conscience, she knew that stern voice was right. She couldn’t hide something this important from him. He needed to know. No, he deserved to know.
“I’ve been seeing someone,” she blurted out.
Dead silence filled the car.
“Doug?”
A muffled cough sounded. “Pardon me?”
“I’m seeing someone. Here, in Chicago.” She swallowed. “It hasn’t been long, and it’s nothing serious, but I think you should know.”
“Who is he?”
“He’s… It doesn’t matter who he is. And I want you to know that I didn’t plan on this. When I asked for space, the last thing I wanted was to jump into another relationship—”
“Relationship?” He sounded upset. “I thought you said it wasn’t serious.”
“I did. I mean, it’s not.” She tried to control her voice, feeling so unbelievably guilty it was hard to get out the next words. “It just sort of…happened.” When he didn’t say anything, the pretzel of guilt in her chest tightened into a vise around her heart. “Are you still there?”
“I’m here.” He spoke curtly. “Thank you for telling me.”
Her throat tightened. “Doug…” She trailed off, not sure what to say. Not sure there was anything else to say.
“I have to go, Hayden,” he said after a long pause. “I can’t talk to you right now. I need time to digest all this.”
“I understand.” She gulped, bringing much-needed moisture to her arid mouth. “Call me when you’re ready to…”
To what? Forgive her? Yell at her?
“To talk,” she finished awkwardly.
He hung up without saying goodbye, and she shoved her phone back into her purse and leaned against the driver’s seat, raking both hands through her hair.
Between Sheila and Doug, she felt as if she’d spent the afternoon waving a red flag in front of a bull determined to gore her to pieces.
At least nobody could call her a coward.
