"I could tell him you have a slight case of Ebola," Amanda suggested. "That he can see you, but he needs a hazmat suit?"
"It's a thought," Brooke said. "But probably best I get it over with."
She walked neither slowly nor quickly, not wanting to face him, but also not wanting to prolong the pain. And when she finally reached his table, he was impatiently tapping the dial of his Rolex.
"There you are."
"I was in the middle of something," she said. "If you expected to see me at a specific time, an appointment would have been handy."
"I understand you're still doing this ridiculous show."
"Yup." She forced herself to say nothing else. He was the one who'd taught her that--if you're on the witness stand, the fewer words, the better.
"Mmmm. Your mother and I are disappointed."
"Color me shocked."
"For God's sake, Brooke, don't be impertinent. I'm only making conversation."
She sighed. "Daddy, you and I both know that conversation is that last reason you're here. Tell me what the first is and let's get on with it."
"To be blunt, I've had enough. You had your fun with that boy years ago, and now it's time for you to move on. Do this job if you must, but that is not the kind of person we need in this family."
"Oh, really? Because I'm thinking someone with a real sense of family, who loves unconditionally and who's worked his ass off to get where he is actually qualifies as exactly the kind of person we should want in this family."
Assuming, of course, that she and Spencer were still a couple. But surely they were. They couldn't really be over, could they? Surely Spencer didn't really see himself the way her father saw him.
"He is a criminal."
"The hell he is." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cameron wiping down a nearby table, and she lowered her voice. "He has a record from when he was a kid and his world was falling apart. I'd like to see you survive what he lived through. Because, Daddy, I don't think you could have made it."
Her father drew in a breath and sat straighter in his chair. "Do not speak to me like that."
"Then don't come here asking for it." She drew her own breath and started to push her chair back. "Are we done?"
"We are not."
Resigned, she settled back into her chair. "Go ahead."
"Perhaps you recall that I have ties to the parole board."
Fingers of dread latched onto her spine. "Yes?"
"It seems that Richard Dean's case is being evaluated right now. One call, and I can ensure that he stays in
prison. Not just today, but until he rots in that cell."
The dread morphed into cold terror.
"You can't possibly be that cruel."
"Cruel to keep a convicted murderer in prison? I think you have confused your adjectives."
She swallowed.
"There's a simple solution. You want Richard Dean paroled? Then walk away from Spencer. That's it. Easy as pie. You did it once before, after all. And you built yourself a successful business. Don't let him drag you down."
Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest that she thought it might explode. But she could do this. She had to.