Before I Knew (The Cabots #1)

by Jamie Beck

  “Heartless!” Colby almost felt sorry for Jake.

  “Better to leave than be left.” Gentry stood suddenly, as if she didn’t want to discuss that theory. “I’ll post something discreet to deflect attention from the review.”

  “Thanks.” Colby hugged Gentry. “Let me know how it goes with Jake.”

  “It’ll be anticlimactic. He’s no more invested than I am.” Her sister shrugged. “That’s what made him the perfect guy.”

  “I don’t understand that, but I suppose it’s your life.”

  “That it is, and now I’m off to live it up.” Gentry waved goodbye, her layered top flouncing in the breeze as her long legs ate up the pavement in lengthy strides.

  For a brief moment, the appeal of living life without strings tugged at Colby. She’d sworn off complications after Mark’s death but somehow ended up inviting them into both her personal and professional lives. Worse, she’d tied those two together. Now, even if she wanted to change one, she couldn’t do it without affecting the other.

  Wearing a smug smile, Colby’s mom picked another ripe tomato from the vine and set it in her basket. “And you thought I’d quit gardening by the end of summer. I love these fresh vegetables. Now I’m thinking instead of a stone fence. I should enclose it all in a greenhouse so I can garden year-round.”

  “I stand corrected.” Colby clipped a squash from its vine, wondering what a greenhouse would cost her. Depending on the damage that review did, she might not be able to afford it at all. Shrugging off that concern, she held up the sunny vegetable. “These look amazing, Mom. What can we whip up for dinner with them? Pasta?”

  Alec would be more creative, but she didn’t know when—or if—she’d hear from him again. Colby yanked a weed.

  “I’d rather have dessert. Can Alec make something sweet with squash and tomato?” Her mom chuckled. “If anyone could, it would be him.”

  Alec had attempted the oddest creations throughout his years of playing around with foods, textures, spices, and herbs—like the weird Cheetos broccoli dish last month. That memory prompted a bittersweet grin, because Colby sensed her relationship with Alec was poised for upheaval.

  “Colby, what’s wrong? You look like you haven’t slept, and you’ve barely said four words in the past hour. Is it that stupid Gordon Jeffers?” Her mom set the basket aside.

  “He didn’t help.”

  “Alec’s taking it hard? I left a message for Julie, but she hasn’t called me back.”

  Colby hadn’t told anyone about Frank and Julie’s troubles, so she hedged. “That review won’t send droves of customers through our doors. As for Alec . . .” They’d barely discussed it. He’d shut her out. Whether that was because he needed to lick his wounds, blamed her for interfering with the kitchen, or had simply been too busy with his mom, she couldn’t guess.

  Her mom patted her shoulder. “Men’s egos are delicate, no matter how tough they act. We women—our skin may be softer, but it’s much thicker. Fairer sex, my ass. We can shoulder far more pain and disappointment than men, so be strong for him now. You’ve already proven that you can survive anything.”

  Normally Colby shied away from compliments, but she’d earned that one. She had survived some gut-wrenching experiences. The kind of life lessons that put other disappointments in perspective. She’d help Alec learn to do the same.

  “Thanks, Mom. Let’s change the subject and talk about something fun.” Colby lifted the basket of squash and followed her mom back to the house, hoping her mother’s special kind of kookiness might jar her out of her funk.

  “Well, since we’re talking about men, I met a nice one this week. Thanks to you, actually.” Her blue eyes twinkled like a starry-eyed schoolgirl’s.

  “Me?”

  “Indirectly, yes. I went to Lamont’s Wines to rustle up some last-minute donations. I figured I could strong-arm Franny, of course. Well, Franny wasn’t there, but her brother, Rusty, was.”

  Franny Lamont was a wiry mother of six. Her daughter, Angelica, had been in Colby’s grade, but that girl’s personality hadn’t matched her name’s promise.

  “Franny has a brother?” Colby scoured her memory but couldn’t come up with a single one involving a Rusty Lamont. Of course, his last name wouldn’t be Lamont. “How have we never met him?”

  “He just moved here from Sebastopol. His wife died about six months ago. His kids are grown and scattered, so he moved here for the less expensive cost of living.”

  She, Alec, Rusty, her mom . . . seemed everyone was looking for a fresh start these days. “He told you all of this in the wine store?”

  “I’d arrived just before his lunch hour. We were talking about the foundation, so he invited me to join him for lunch over at Lakeside Deli.”

  Colby recognized that sparkle of interest in her mom’s eyes. The same look she’d had when first describing her poet warrior, Richard. “Do you think he’ll be different from Richard?”

  “Who knows? You found Alec.” Her mom set the bucket of tomatoes on the table. “Maybe I’ll get lucky, too.”

  Colby had originally thought she’d been lucky to meet Mark. She’d also thought she’d lucked into something special with Alec despite their complicated history. Now she might’ve inadvertently hurt his professional reputation and splintered his family. At this point, “lucky” didn’t exactly seem like the best cornerstone for a relationship.

  “I hope Rusty appreciates your uniqueness, Mom.”

  “We’ll find out soon. We’re going out on Thursday to a Portland Pickles game. He’s a huge fan.”

  “Do you like baseball?” Colby grimaced.

  “I like Rusty. Or I like him so far.” Her mom shrugged. “As for baseball, I don’t hate it.”

  Colby sighed. “Maybe luck has nothing to do with good relationships. Maybe it comes down to honesty. Do me a favor. Don’t pretend to like baseball if you don’t actually like it. Better to end things early with the wrong man than try to force it to work.”

  Instead of answering, her mom bent to retrieve a colander and then handed it to her. Colby was rinsing vegetables and thinking about her own situation. A pity party wouldn’t change one thing. She needed to confront Alec, even if that thought made her feel like someone tossed a lit match in her belly. “Mom, sorry to dash, but I need to find Alec.”

  “Oh? I thought he’d come cook and talk about last-minute fund-raiser matters.”

  “Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow.” The fund-raiser. One week away and currently the last thing on Colby’s mind. Her mother, however, had no idea about the Morgans’ recent separation. “See you later.”

  She kissed her mom’s cheek and went to Alec’s apartment.

  He answered the door looking ashen and exhausted. Worry lines bracketed his mouth. Even his cowlick looked defeated, sagging instead of springing from his forehead. “What are you doing here?”

  Not the hugs and kisses she’d become accustomed to, but she stepped past him and into his apartment, anyway. “Checking on you. You weren’t returning my calls, and I’m worried about you and your family.”

  He kept his hand on the doorknob and rested his forehead against the door. “My mom went to meet my dad for coffee in town, so I’m preoccupied. This isn’t the best time to talk, Colby.”

  “Because of your parents or because of something else?”

  He must’ve sensed she wasn’t leaving, so he finally closed the door. “If by something else you mean the review, then yes, that hasn’t helped.”

  “It’s just one review, Alec. And Gentry and I have a plan—”

  Alec waved his hands. “It’s too late. There’s no fixing it. The only way to overcome it at this point is to work twice as hard and hope maybe in another year you catch a break. But that review ambushed any chance that A CertainTea might’ve gotten any acclaim this year.”

  “You’re angry.” She reached for him, but he didn’t reciprocate.

  “Livid.” He stepped back and turned away, cracking his knuckles
.

  “With me?” She tensed, awaiting his response.

  He faced her now, expression rigid, voice blade-sharp. “I’m angry with myself for going against the formula I knew would work.”

  “I’m sorry about the menu, Alec. Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed you to include anything, but it is my restaurant.” She looked down. “I should’ve warned you about the rumor . . .”

  His chin came up sharply. “What rumor?”

  If he’d been livid before, he’d be murderous now. “Gentry had mentioned that she’d heard ‘through the grapevine’ that the Trib’s reviewer might be coming that night.”

  “When did she tell you that?” His eyes widened with betrayal.

  “A couple of weeks ago.” Colby shrank back a bit in order to dodge the surge of contempt rolling off his body.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? If I’d known, I would’ve—”

  “Would’ve what?” She regretted that decision now, but she wouldn’t be bullied, either. His temper had been the reason that she hadn’t trusted him with that information, and that was his fault, not hers. “Ridden the staff even harder? Been anxious and overbearing every day? Why would I tell you about a rumor when I knew it would only force the staff to deal with your temper?”

  “I could’ve made the menu perfect for the weekend. And maybe if you’d let me ‘ride the staff’ harder, they’d have been better prepared.” He shook his head, dismissing her rationale. “I can’t believe you think that you made the right decision. This is my career, Colby. You know how important it is to me, yet you hid information that might’ve helped me.”

  His fists balled at his sides as he stared straight through her, clearly unable to comprehend her motives.

  “I’m sorry, but I thought I was protecting you from yourself. It was right after your dad’s drunken night weeks ago, and Gentry couldn’t confirm it. I didn’t think you needed more stress when it seemed your attentions were better served helping your family.” The words sounded stupid and arrogant as they fell from her mouth. “Then we got busy with planning the fund-raiser, and it slipped my mind. Ultimately, you weren’t in the kitchen Saturday, anyway, so it didn’t really make a difference, did it?”

  She braced for a major tantrum and almost fainted when, instead, Alec barked a laugh.

  Colby gaped at him as if he’d lost his mind. Maybe he had. Two days of caring for his mom and walking a tightrope with his dad were bad enough. Then that review dealt a killing blow. Un-fucking-believable.

  He cringed thinking about his colleagues reading it. Those chefs who’d once wanted to be him would now pity him for a second time. Would be convinced he’d lost his edge. In a way, he had. He’d let Colby influence how he did his job even though she had no experience in a kitchen or the industry.

  He’d led with his heart, and now nothing was right. Not his family. Not his career. Not his relationship. Maybe his dad had a point about him lacking some essential element of manhood—courage. Courage to be honest about his mistakes, about who he was.

  “Alec.” Colby reached for him again, but he couldn’t comfort her. Not now.

  “Don’t.” This was a sign. A sign that he’d reached for too much too soon. “We need to take a step back, Colby.”

  “Step back?”

  None of his goals—his reputation, his family, Colby’s happiness—were viable. He’d been dishonest with everyone, and now they were all paying the price. It had to end, and he had to be strong enough to do it. “I went to the cemetery this afternoon.”

  “What?” Her eyes flew open. “Why?”

  He’d visited Joe’s headstone numerous times throughout the past two years, but today he’d gone to Mark’s. Something he’d avoided until now. He’d apologized for his lack of mercy and admitted part of his dislike had been due to jealousy. Jealousy that Mark had married Colby before Alec ever had the chance to show her what kind of man he could be. A pointless wish, seeing as Alec had failed to be that guy, anyway. “To make some decisions.”

  “Decisions about your family?” She frowned, her face filled with confusion.

  “I’ve given up hoping that anything between my dad and me will change.” He still felt numb when considering the confrontation they’d had at the hospital and its long-term consequences.

  “Don’t give up.” She laid her hands on his chest. Unrelenting in her effort to soothe him. Another irony, really. He’d wanted her to reclaim the pieces of herself that she’d shut away. That brave spirit that would wade into murky emotional tides in order to help someone. He just hadn’t wanted to be that someone who’d needed her help.

  He raised her hands to his lips, wishing he could hold on to her without being a selfish prick. He couldn’t. Not if he wanted her to have the kind of carefree life she’d asked for. He’d been torn for weeks about doing the right thing and making excuses in order to avoid the fallout. No more. Now he faced the woman he’d wanted forever, unsure of how, exactly, to take the sledgehammer to his heart. “Sometimes walking away is the best choice.”

  “You can’t walk away from family.” She wrapped her arms around her waist. “Do you blame me for what’s happened with your parents?”

  Seeing her guilt wiped away any doubts about what he needed to do.

  “You’ve got it backward, Colby. Before I showed up, you were on your way out of mourning, ready to open a new business. A nice, carefree guy wanted to date you. The past seemed to be shrinking in your rearview mirror. Then Hunter called, and I stepped smack into the middle of your happiness, bringing bad memories and trouble along with me.”

  “Alec,” she started.

  “No, listen.” He backed farther away from her, needing distance. Needing air. “I need to tell you something, so please let me finish.”

  “I don’t like the finality in your voice.” She kept her gaze even with his.

  “I love you, you know. I think I always have. You’re kind and beautiful and brave, and you deserve a man who’s your equal. If you believe nothing else when I’m done, believe that.” His throat continued its fight against him, swelling as if trying to choke off what he planned to say. “Sadly, I’m not that guy. You kept a secret from me about the critic, but I’ve been far more dishonest. All I can hope now is that owning up to all my sins might eventually set us all free.”

  “Free from what?” She sank onto the sofa almost as if her legs had given out.

  “Free from pain. From regret. From settling for less than we deserve.”

  He sat beside her then; despite everything, he wanted to be close to her one last time. He clasped her hand and placed her palm against his cheek, like some masochistic reminder of how much he liked it when she touched him. “I need to confess something to you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes.” He closed his eyes for a second. “You’ve spent endless hours wondering how you could’ve prevented Mark’s suicide. Endured nightmares and PTSD from witnessing it. And then you let me in, even with your reservations. Even with the complications of our families and our work relationship. Shamefully, I let you turn to me while knowing that I could’ve prevented all of your suffering.”

  “Alec, Mark’s choices had nothing to do with you. I told you he was bipolar. Suicidal thoughts are somewhat prevalent in those afflicted.”

  “I still had a hand in it.”

  He stood and crossed the room, which would be the only way he could finish. He couldn’t face her now, so he stared at one of the photos his mom had brought with her. The one of Hunter, Joe, Colby, and him hanging from the tree-house ladder. An innocent time before egos and puberty and jealousies corrupted the love and friendship they’d all shared.

  “About a week before Mark jumped, he sent me an apology note, begging my family for forgiveness. He said he couldn’t go on without it. I didn’t take that threat seriously, and I wasn’t ready to forgive him, or myself, for anything, so I ignored him. Obviously, I never even warned you about his state of mind.”

  He didn’t glance over
his shoulder. He couldn’t. He doubted he had enough strength to see the disgust or anger he knew would be reflected in her eyes.

  In the distance, the faint sound of a train floated through an open window. The droning of its engine ushered him back to the memory of Mark’s funeral.

  “The day you buried Mark, I watched from a distant spot in the cemetery. In all the years I’d known you, you’d never looked so vacant and frail. So spooked. I hated myself. I hated Mark and Joe. I hated the powerless feelings that consumed me. I wanted to fix it for you, but I didn’t know how.

  “I told myself the best thing I could do was stay away from you. That seeing me would only remind you of Joe and Mark. That confessing couldn’t bring Mark back, anyway. But the truth is that I was a coward. I couldn’t face you and your pain, knowing that I might’ve prevented it. When you’d tried to reach out to me in sympathy about Joe, I ran from you so you wouldn’t see everything vile and worthless in me.”

  His voice cracked, but at this point weakness hardly mattered. “I never wanted to believe that my dad could be right about me, but that kind of cowardice sort of proves that he was, at least a little.”

  He hated himself for hurting her, but he’d also just lost ten thousand pounds by shedding the burden of that secret.

  Colby’s small voice emerged. “So Mark’s jump and all the consequences of it might’ve been avoided if you had forgiven him or spoken up.”

  And there it was . . . the sickening truth he’d hoped to ignore for the rest of their lives.

  “Since coming back to town, I’ve done everything possible to make you happy in some twisted attempt to make amends to Mark and you . . . to redeem myself. Yet none of this tiptoeing around to keep the peace—to keep things easy and simple—has made us strong. It hasn’t helped my family or the restaurant. Any progress I thought we were making wasn’t real, because we haven’t been honest with each other.” He slouched onto a chair, unable to stand on weakening legs. Shame and regret wedged their way into his voice. “Everything I’ve touched since my fight with Joe gets destroyed. I should’ve never touched you, but I couldn’t resist.”