On A Night Like This (Callaways #1)

bad day."
    "No one wants to hear about that," Patrick told his wife, his tone sharp and purposeful.
    "It's going to be okay, isn't it?" she asked, worry in her eyes as she gazed at her husband. "You said it would. You promised."
    "It's fine," he assured her. "It was a long time ago."
    "What was a long time ago?" Emma asked.
    "Don't add to the confusion with questions," Patrick said, giving Emma a harsh look.
    Emma quickly apologized. "I'm sorry."
    "I'm Patrick Callaway," her grandfather said, his attention turning to Max. "And this is my wife, Eleanor."
    "I'm very happy to meet you both." He wondered how he could extricate himself from a situation that seemed to be turning more awkward by the moment. He had no idea what Emma's grandmother was talking about, but her odd comments seemed to have left everyone at the table speechless.
    Eleanor suddenly stiffened, confusion in her expression as she pointed her finger at Max. "You're not Emma's boyfriend. You're not Jon."
    "No. I'm Max."
    "I like Jon." She gave Emma an annoyed and bewildered look. "Why aren't you with Jon? He always brings me those hard candies."
    "Jon and I broke up, Grandma."
    "But he loved you. You loved him. You were going to get married and have babies."
    Emma cleared her throat. "We decided it wasn't right."
    "So this man is your new boyfriend?" Eleanor demanded, not looking at all happy about it.
    "No, he's a colleague. We work together sometimes. That's all." She looked relieved when Burke arrived at the table, interrupting their conversation "Burke," she said with relief. "You're here. And Max is here."
    "So I see," Burke said, shaking his hand. "Did you meet everyone?"
    "Emma was just introducing me," he replied.
    Emma waved her hand toward the other members of her family. "My mom, Lynda, sister, Shayla, brother, Colton."
    Her mother and siblings said hello. Colton appeared more interested in whatever he was reading on his phone than the conversation at hand. Shayla gave him a very curious look. Fortunately he did not have to talk to anyone as a group of people approached the table to offer Jack congratulations.
    To give the newcomers more room, Max moved a few steps away. Emma did the same.
    "Sorry about that," she said. "My grandmother is in the early stages of Alzheimer's, and we never know what is going to come out of her mouth."
    "I'm sorry to hear that she's ill."
    "It's hard to watch her deteriorate. She was a very sharp woman when I was younger. I couldn't get anything past her." Emma frowned. "I can't believe she remembered Jon. He hasn't been around the family in months."
    "Apparently, the candies he brought her stuck in her head."
    "I brought the candies for her birthday. He just took the credit." Emma's gaze drifted back to her grandmother. "I don't know what she was referring to when she alluded to some bad, bad day. It was such an odd thing to say."
    "It sounded like your grandfather knew what it was about. He was quick to cut her off."
    Her gaze swung back to him, her eyes questioning. "I thought so, too. It's the second time in the last few weeks that Grandma has mentioned a secret, and the second time Grandpa has changed the subject. But I can't imagine what secret she would be keeping.
    "Have you asked your grandfather about it?"
    "No. You don't ask my grandfather things like that. To be honest, I've always been a little scared of him. He's the only one in the family who ever made me feel like a stepchild."
    Her comment surprised him. Emma seemed so confident, so sure of her place in the world, but in this moment he could see uncertainty in her eyes, and he wondered if she had to be good, had to be right, in order to prove herself to her family because she wasn't a Callaway by blood. It might explain why she was so determined to win, to succeed, to be the best at everything.
    "Anyway," she said, turning her focus back to him. "How come you never told me you grew up here, and don't say it's because I didn't ask. I spoke to you about Los Angeles and your reason for transferring, and you never said anything about the fact that you were actually coming home."
    "I haven't thought of this city as home in a very long time. I left when I was eighteen. That was fourteen years ago."
    "Is your family still here?"
    "Some of them."
    "Why did you leave and why did you come back?" she asked, as she took a sip of her water.
    "I left to go to college, and I came back because it was time."
    "That's deliberately vague, Harrison."
    "Maybe you