On A Night Like This (Callaways #1)

had happened to the baby? To her brother?
    Nausea swept through her. She ran to the bathroom and threw up. When she finally rose, she was shaking. She ran cold water over her face and then pressed a dry towel against her forehead and over her eyes. With her eyes closed, she could almost pretend that nothing had changed, but that wasn't true. Everything had changed.
    She had an older brother. Where was he?
    Setting down the towel, she returned to the bedroom, knowing that there was only one explanation. It wasn't the answer she wanted to find, but there seemed to be no alternative.
    She checked death records, obituaries, and there it was.
    Stephen Davidson, Jr., age 4, survived by his loving parents, Stephen and Valerie Davidson.
    There was no mention of how he'd died, and the date was two years before she was born. She walked back to the bed and stared at the photos, especially the ones of her dad smiling. He'd been a happy father then. He'd obviously loved his son. And she'd just figured out why her father had risked his life to rescue a box of photos, why he hadn't wanted her to go through his things, why he'd been almost desperate in his desire to get her out of his house. He hadn't wanted her to find out about her brother.
    She flopped on her back and stared at the ceiling. She didn't want to cry, but she suddenly felt very emotional. Tears began to stream down her face, and she wasn't even sure exactly what she was sad about. She'd never met her brother, so how could she grieve for him. She was angry with her mother for never telling her about her brother. But her mother was gone. There would be no confessions, no truth between them now.
    And then there was her father …
    He'd loved that child. He'd been able to be a dad to his son, but not to his daughter.
    He hadn't loved her. He hadn't wanted her.
    She'd known it all along, but now she had proof, hard evidence.
    And the tears kept coming…

Chapter Fourteen

    "We need to have a talk, son," Jack Callaway told Aiden as he joined him at the buffet table.
    The Callaway lunch was in full swing. Dozens of relatives were gathered in the house. Aiden had hoped the crowd of extended family and friends would have prevented a conversation with his father, but apparently not.
    "Now is not a good time," he said.
    "Tonight, after everyone goes home," Jack said, meeting his gaze. "We need to discuss your future."
    "My future is my business."
    "You've made it everyone's business," Jack retorted. "You're not just dragging yourself down in the mud, you're taking the family name with you. Now Burke tells me you don't remember what happened. That's some information that needs to be shared with other people." He paused as Lynda interrupted them.
    "Whatever you two are talking about can wait," she said firmly. "We've got a house full of people, and I need your help in the kitchen, Jack."
    "Tonight, Aiden," his father said. "Don't make me come looking for you."
    He didn't bother to reply. He'd get some lunch and then decide whether or not he wanted to have that conversation with his father. Except for possibly Burke, Jack didn’t seem able to accept that his children were adults and could live their own lives. Not that he'd been doing a great job with his life lately, but that was still his business.
    He picked up a plate, grabbed two sandwiches, and a generous helping of potato salad and moved into the living room. Two of his aunts were on the sofa, his grandmother sat across from them in an armchair. She didn't seem to be all that interested in their conversation, nor did she pay him any attention either. Her somewhat vacant smile reminded him a little of Brandon. He wondered what was going on with her. He was going to sit down next to her, but his cousin, Anne, nabbed the seat before him, so he headed across the room and sat down on the bench in front of the piano.
    A few moments later, Emma joined him. "What are you doing all by yourself?" she asked.
    "Hardly by myself," he said dryly. "Half the neighborhood is in this house."
    "It is a big turnout today. Tons of great food, too."
    He nodded, his gaze catching on a group of people walking up to the front door. For a moment he thought he saw Sara, but it wasn't her. He wondered where she was. He'd thought she'd come by for lunch, if not to see him, then to see Emma. Or she could be avoiding him. Once again, he'd let himself get carried away with her. Only this time, he hadn't had any intention of calling a halt. If they