Dylan couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but apparently Claire wasn’t finished dropping bombs on him.
“She lost all her savings, but even then she couldn’t stop gambling, and when her paychecks weren’t enough to support the habit, she took out a second mortgage on the house. Except she couldn’t afford the mortgage payments either, and the bank started foreclosure proceedings, so that’s when she confided in Chris.”
He sucked in a breath. “So my brother knew this whole time and didn’t say a word about it to me?”
Claire rubbed the bridge of her nose as if warding off a headache. “He told me you knew, but that it wasn’t your responsibility to do anything about it. He was the man of the house since your father died, so it was his problem. That’s why he took the job with Lowenstein and Tate instead of the assistant prosecutor position.”
There were so many unsettling details being thrown around he didn’t know which one to focus on.
“What are you talking about? Chris was always going to work for a defense firm. It was the only reason he went to law school, so he could practice criminal law.”
She frowned. “No, he didn’t. He was committed to the city job. When we first met it was all he could talk about.”
“I know he got an offer, but trust me, he never intended to accept. It’s always been his dream to be a big-shot defense lawyer.”
Her teeth clamped over her bottom lip. Another silence fell over the room as each of them absorbed what had been said.
“Were you—”
“Are you—”
They both laughed awkwardly. “You first,” Dylan said.
“Were you really in the dark about all this?”
“Yes.” He gave her a grim look. “If I’d known, I would have been doing everything in my power to help my mom out. Why the hell didn’t she tell me?”
Even as he voiced the thought, he already knew the answer. Because he was her favorite. Her baby. His mom had tried to shield him from heartache his entire life, painting the world to him as a place full of sunshine and rainbows and cuddly kittens. He was always the last one to find out when something bad happened, and there had been times when he wouldn’t be told at all, only to discover the truth years later.
“Maybe she was trying to protect you.”
Claire’s soft assessment was spot-on, and though he concurred, that didn’t make this situation any less insulting.
“So Chris has been making the mortgage payments this last year?” Dylan asked, still trying to make sense of it all.
Claire nodded.
“What about my mom and the, um, gambling? Has she stopped? Like really stopped?”
“She claims she has, and I haven’t seen any signs that she’s relapsed. She’s also been looking for a new job.”
He rubbed the stubble coating his chin, momentarily distracted by the three days’ worth of beard growth beneath the pads of his fingers. He wasn’t used to his face feeling so damn prickly.
“I can’t believe you didn’t know.” Claire’s eyes shone with remorse. “And all this time, I…” She trailed off.
He swallowed. “You what?”
“I blamed you for the changes I saw in Chris. I thought he took that job because it paid more and he needed to support your mom, and then as time passed, he went from this fun, passionate man looking to change the world, to a stiff, pretentious man who only wanted to golf and smoke cigars with his colleagues.”
Dylan sighed. “He’s always been stiff and pretentious, Claire. I have no idea how that happened, considering both my parents were so easygoing and so quick to laugh. I guess I took after them, but Chris, well, I don’t know how he got to be so serious and conservative. But he’s also incredibly shrewd.”
“What does that mean?” she asked warily.
“It means he’s a smooth operator when it comes to women. He’ll tell you whatever you want to hear, do whatever it takes to impress you. I’m guessing he sensed you were passionate about certain issues, so he spun you a tale about working for the city and fighting for the little guy. And you said you like to get wild sometimes, right? Well, I bet at first, he took you to all sorts of fun places—dinner, dancing, weekend getaways. Am I right?”
There was sadness in her eyes as she nodded.
“Chris is not a party dude, honey. He hates clubs or crowds or going anywhere that doesn’t serve twelve-year-old scotch.”
“How come I never saw it?”
“Like I said, he’s smooth. Always has been.”
Dylan experienced a pang of sympathy when he noticed how upset she looked. He was pretty upset himself. Still reeling from the shock of discovering his mother had gambled away her life savings and nearly lost her house. Their house, the one Dylan had grown up in, the one filled with so many great memories of his dad.
But his heart went out to Claire too. Chris had totally played her, and knowing that spurred another realization.
“So wait, all those times you and Chris visited here or when I came to San Francisco, all those barbed remarks you made about money and my mom needing to get a job…” He let out a heavy breath. “You’re not a materialistic bitch at all, are you? And you don’t care that my mom was a housewife for most of her life, do you?”
A startled laugh flew out of her mouth. “Um, no. I won’t deny I was bitchy to you whenever I saw you, but that was because I was watching my fiancé work his ass off while his selfish younger brother was man-whoring it up in San Diego.”