She laughed. “Mother I’d like to f—”
“I don’t want to know,” he cut her off.
“You’re such a prude.”
Prude, no. Out of practice, hell yes. He’d come home and taken the world’s longest cold shower, but it hadn’t erased the feel of her breath on his chest. When her hands tugged his shirt from his pants, he’d been frozen with anticipation. Her sudden urgency had held him a willing captive. Need and hunger had rolled over him until he was shaking with it. If he hadn’t stopped her, he wouldn’t have been able to keep his hands to himself.
“Dad?” Diana’s voice was high and thin, like she was barely keeping it together. “I know you’re excited about getting laid and all but I’m sort of wondering when you were going to tell me.”
He wasn’t going to let her get to him, not tonight. “Tell you what?”
She dug into her pocket and pulled out a wadded-up piece of paper. “This. You know, the whole committing me to six weeks of group therapy and tiny paper cups holding colored pills at breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”
Sonofabitch. He went back to tying his tie. “I’m not sending you there.” Stay calm, stay cool.
“Bullshit.” She sat up, throwing the paper at him. “You’re such a liar.”
He glanced at her in the mirror. “We are taking a vacation. Going to the beach house.” He’d been biding his time to mention their vacation—on the off chance some unforeseen hiccup derailed his plans. But, as of next Monday, he was taking a leave of absence. This was not how he’d envisioned telling her.
“The beach house?” Sh
e laughed, a hard, grating laugh. “Right. Sure. Whatever. We don’t like each other. You can’t stand being in the same room with me, but I’m supposed to believe you?” She stared up at the ceiling. “Guess you’ll be making a stop along the way—to drop me off at this Serenity Heights place. First you get rid of Mom. Now you’re trying to get rid of me.”
His fingers fell from his tie. She didn’t really believe that. Lashing out was her thing. And she was very good at it. But that didn’t stop the razor-blade effect of her words, slicing deep and letting the blood flow.
Diana grabbed their family picture from his nightstand, her black-smeared eyes narrowing as she stared at the happy image. He’d memorized it, down to every detail. It was like another life. And Julia, his Julia and her wonderful smile. They’d been happy then—all of them. There were times he wondered if he’d ever be happy again.
He tugged off his tie. What the hell was he thinking? “I don’t want to get rid of you, Diana.”
She crossed her bony arms over her chest. “You’re saying this is all Doc Adelaide’s idea?”
He ran a hand along the back of his neck. “She’s worried about you. We’re both worried about you.” Every second of every day, I worry about you. Every time he went to work, every time she went out, he wondered if he’d ever see her again. Why couldn’t she understand that?
“You don’t need to worry about me. You can’t stop me from doing anything, don’t you get that? You’re not in control.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to that place. You can’t make me. But, if you want, we can talk about this? After you get laid? You’ll be way less tense then.”
He stared at her, stunned. “Diana.”
“Dad,” she mimicked and walked out of his room. “I’m not going to the Buchanans’ or Natalie’s or Angie’s tonight! Just go and enjoy your night.” Her door slammed, followed by the angry screaming music she blasted to make sure he knew she wasn’t happy.
He stared after her, all the excitement and anticipation he’d felt evaporating. Leaving her alone wasn’t an option. When she got like this, she was capable of dangerous things. And, even if he managed to convince her to go with him to the Buchanans’ to hang out with Nick and Honor, she’d be sullen and hateful—two things Felicity’s kids didn’t deserve.
He picked up his phone and dialed. It rang three times before Felicity answered.
“Graham, hi. I’m almost ready.”
“Felicity.” Why did she have to sound excited? He didn’t want to think that she wanted this as much as he did. That would make it worse. “I need to take a rain check.” A lie.
“Oh.” There was a pause. “Of course. You’re a doctor. Things come up. It’s the job.”
He wished he’d been called in to the hospital. Delivering babies—even an emergency C-section—was less stressful than dealing with his daughter. The words were there. The truth. He knew she’d listen. And he wanted to tell her. But after the day she’d had… What sort of asshole would he be to do that? To add to her burden, knowing she’d want to help. His daughter and their battles were his responsibility—not hers. “I’m sorry about this.”
“No, Graham, I understand.” She tried to sound cheery, but he heard her disappointment. Hell, he felt it. He’d wanted this, wanted her. Maybe that was the problem. What he wanted wasn’t important. Diana was.
“I hope the delivery is easy and mother and baby are healthy.” Her voice was soft.
“Thanks.” He hesitated.
“Night, Graham.”