Chapter Eleven

Graham held the embroidered throw pillow on his lap, his fingers running along the piped edge over and over. The simple repetitive act was oddly soothing. Not enough to shake the sense of impending doom that kicked in once he’d pried open Diana’s bedroom door. Just soothing enough to keep him from yelling. Or throwing things. Or sobbing uncontrollably. None of those things would help, and he needed help, desperately.

Adelaide waited, pen poised, glancing back and forth between them. The room seemed smaller than when they’d arrived. The couch creaked loudly every time he shifted. He sat, rigid, fingers worrying the stupid pillow. Only the soft recording of rhythmic waves and the regular tick of the second hand of the wall clock broke the silence.

“Diana?” Adelaide’s voice was neutral.

Diana continued to peel the black polish from her nails, sweeping the bits from her shredded tights onto the polished concrete floor.

She had her nail polish. He had the stupid pillow. Neither of them was talking but they both had so much to say.

“After your father’s call this morning, I thought you might want to talk,” Adelaide prompted. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to discuss?”

Diana didn’t look up or say a word—just kept picking away. He shoved the pillow between his side and the arm of the love seat, pressing his hands flat against his thighs.

“He mentioned you spent the night away from home?” Adelaide continued.

Diana’s left hand was now polish-free, so she set to work on her right hand.

“We’re both concerned about that. Where did you go, Diana? Were you safe?”

Worried, yes. And pissed as hell. Last night had been the worst of his life. Nothing compared to not knowing where she was or what might be happening to her. Did she need help? Was she hurt? Hurting herself? Lost? Alone? Every nightmare scenario imaginable played through his mind until he was frantic.

But beyond the worry and pain and helplessness, he was furious. So furious he’d put his fist through the drywall. After driving the streets of Pecan Valley most of the night, he’d prayed he’d come home and find her waiting. Instead, he’d come home to an empty house. The handful of her friends he knew of had no idea where she was, or that was what they told him. When he’d exhausted all of his options, he’d called the police, his bloodied fist submerged in a sink full of ice, when she’d walked in the front door.

She hadn’t stopped, even when he’d called to her. She’d headed up the stairs and into her bathroom—no door slamming or screaming, tears or hostility. Her silence had broken him. While she was in the shower, he slumped over in relief—doing his best not to cry like a baby.

She still hadn’t said a word. And he’d been so uncertain of what to do next, he’d called for backup. He’d expected her to push back when he told her they were going to see Adelaide. She hadn’t. The drive had been as silent as the session so far.

“You’re angry,” Adelaide continued, “over the brochure I gave to your father.”

He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t. Not yet. He wasn’t in control.

“Did he tell you I gave him the brochure?” She sat up. “He didn’t want it. He said sending you there would be deserting you and he wouldn’t do that.”

For a second, Diana stopped chipping.

“It’s my professional opinion that you’re a risk to yourself.” Adelaide paused. “Last night only affirms my belief that Serenity Heights is the best option for—”

Screw control. “She’s not going,” he cut in—but he didn’t sound like himself. The words were hard and clipped and raw.

Diana jerked back, her bloodshot, kohl-lined eyes locking with his.

“I need you to listen.” He swallowed, the jagged wedge shoved in his throat making it hard to say what needed to be said. “I didn’t want to let your mother go, Diana. You know, I hope you know, how much I loved her. But she was so tired, baby girl. And she’d been hurting for too long.” He stopped, the horrible pain on his daughter’s face silencing him. There was no way to do this without pain.

“Losing your mother was hell—for both of us. You needed me, and I wasn’t there. You lost your mom and you lost me, too…” He broke off, his voice wobbling and his eyes burning furiously. “I screwed up, and I’m so sorry, Di. I let you down, over and over. I get it, why you hate me, I do.” It hurt to suck in the air to keep going. “I won’t send you away, but I won’t let you keep me out, either. Whatever I need to do to fix us, I’ll do it. But you have to give me a chance.”

Big tears streaked down Diana’s pale face, tracking mascara in their wake.

“I love you, Di. And last night—” He closed his eyes, his voice breaking roughly. “Last night was the worst of my life.” He took her hand in his then. “You can’t do that, Di. Get mad at me, yell at me, but running away—I can’t lose you.”

She pressed her hand to her mouth, fighting tears.

“I wasn’t lying to you about a vacation, a real vacation. We can go to the beach house, me and you. You like it there; you used to love it there. Maybe?” He swallowed. “I’m not saying it’ll be easy, or that I have answers or know what the hell I’m doing, but we have to try.”

Diana was crying hard, wiping tears away with the back of her other hand. “You promise?”

“What?” he asked, aching to hug her. “Promise what, Di?”

“You’re n-not s-sending me away from you?” Her sobs were hard and angry.

The question split his heart wide open. “I promise,” he whispered, cradling her hand against his chest.

But she was shaking her head.

“You don’t believe me?” he asked. “How do I make you believe me?”

She kept shaking her head, looking so young and lost underneath her smeared makeup.

“You don’t trust your father?” Adelaide was calm—this was her job, after all. “Who do you trust?”

Diana sniffed, tugging her hand from his and pulling a tissue from a nearby box to wipe her face. She blew her nose and curled up in the far corner of the loveseat, looking almost as exhausted as he felt. “You think you know me. Why don’t you tell me?” Eyebrows raised, arms crossed, she stared at Adelaide.

Adelaide clicked the end of her pen and laid it across her tablet. She glanced his way, then focused on his daughter. “Well, only one person comes to mind. As far as I can recall, she’s the only person you both respect and like. I’m assuming that means you trust her as well.”

Diana frowned.

Adelaide knew.

And Graham had no idea who it was. How had he let things get this bad? His daughter was a handful; there was no denying that. But, dammit, he was the parent—he needed to start acting like one.

“Felicity Buchanan,” Adelaide said, instantly dinging Graham’s newfound determination to focus solely on his daughter. The therapist flipped through her notes. “You’ve mentioned her, many times, as a decent person who lives to love her kids.” She flipped a few more pages, reading, “She would do anything to make her kids happy. And she makes you feel safe.”

“Because she gets it,” Diana bit back.

He wasn’t sure what that meant, but he wanted to know. “You need Felicity to talk to you?” Graham asked, confused. How was Felicity supposed to help? He didn’t relish the idea of dragging her into this—especially knowing the amount of crap she was already shouldering.

“What, so she can say whatever you tell her to say?” Diana rested her head on her knees.

“Felicity won’t lie to you, Diana—even if I asked her to. Which I would never do.” He sighed, irritation returning. “I’m not sure how Felicity can help,” he told Adelaide.

“I think Diana’s insecurity stems from being alone with you for a long period of time—feeling pressure—not just the possibility you’re taking her to Serenity Heights.” Adelaide crossed her ankles, watching him.

Nothing she said was comforting. How the hell did he fix that? “I need help here,” he murmured, glancing at Diana. “What, exactly, do you want Felicity to do?”

Diana didn’t even bother to look up. “Go with us. Maybe?”

Adelaide made an approving noise. “Perhaps the Buchanans would be willing to accompany you?”

“On vacation?” Because asking Felicity to drop her responsibilities for his kid’s abandonment issues was the fair thing to do. He shot Adelaide a look of desperation, but the therapist remained cool and detached, no expression at all. At the moment, her professionalism felt more like betrayal, and considering how alone he was in this, it didn’t help with the anger simmering right beneath the surface.

“Yeah.” Diana turned her head to look at him. “Like we used to?” A hint of interest crept into her voice. “Felicity and her kids need a break, too.”

True or not, that wasn’t his first priority. His daughter was. This was about reconnecting with her—trying to bridge the chasm that he’d let widen in the time since Julia’s death. Their family of two was held together by threads so fragile, it wasn’t a matter of if they broke but when. He hoped time together in a place full of good memories would change that.

Now Di, through Adelaide, was saying she didn’t want to be alone with him and had managed to turn this thing on its head.

On one hand, having Felicity with him would be…amazing. When it came to parenting, he could use her guidance. And her calming presence would work wonders on Di. But there was that new thing he’d been grappling with since the elevator and after. She wasn’t just a friend or fellow single parent. She was a caring, passionate woman with needs and wants, a woman he deeply cared for—possibly more than he or Diana were prepared for.

“There has to be another way to do this, Di. You know what her family is dealing with.” It wasn’t a small request; she had to see that. That was before the household learned about Jack’s imminent arrival. Her kids were going to be, understandably, emotional minefields. Injecting that sort of hostility into his and Diana’s already polluted dynamic wasn’t good for any of them.

“You’re not even going to ask her, are you?” That hardness was back, her fingers shredding her tissue. “I wasn’t expecting your whole ‘whatever it takes’ bullshit to fall apart that fast.” Her air quotes only made it worse.

He ran a hand along the back of his neck and stared at the pattern on the carpet at his feet. Losing it now wouldn’t go over well. “I wasn’t expecting the two of us to need a moderator, Di. Can you give me a second to metabolize what you’re saying? Can’t we work out some sort of compromise?”

Diana stared at him for a long time, tearing the shredded tissue into tiny pieces. “Like I go to Serenity Heights for a few weeks and then we go to the beach house?”

Graham was up, pacing the length of the small office. “No. Serenity Heights doesn’t figure into this equation, Di. Not at all.”

“You asked me what I wanted.” She shook her head. “What you want is for me to do what you want.”

“What I want is for you to trust me. For you to accept that I’m not giving up on you. That I want to be your dad again.” He stopped, shoving his hands into his pockets so she wouldn’t see him tremble. “I’ll call her.”

“When?” Diana pushed.

The panic from last night lingered, keeping him off balance and grasping. “Today.” The sooner the better.

“We should take them donuts.” Diana stood up. “Honor loves Boston cream ones, and Nick likes apple fritters. You know, butter them up.”

How could this pretty young girl be capable of so much damage? His daughter was a human tornado, swallowing up everything and leaving a path of destruction in her wake.

And he was going to put Felicity and her family directly in Di’s path. With donuts, apparently. “I can’t guarantee they’ll agree, Di,” he murmured, watching her instant withdrawal. “But I’ll try to convince them, okay? You’re right. I’m pretty sure we could all use a break.”

Diana smiled. “Okay.”

Graham memorized that smile, hoping it was the first of many to come. He wanted his daughter to smile at him, to talk to him—to trust him. First, he had to earn it. To do that he had to swallow his pride, shoulder a ton of guilt, and beg Felicity to help him save his daughter.

…

“I think that’s it.” Honor’s gaze traveled over the list she’d made when she and her mother had gone to the new-student orientation last spring. It was a “recommended” supply list—for decorating her dorm room as well as suggested items for her classes.

“No other tech?” Charity asked, stirring her slushee with a long red straw. “No discs or flash drives or whatever?”

“She’s not going to spy school from the nineteen-eighties,” Nick teased.

“Nick.” Their mother was laughing.

“Are you implying I’m not tech savvy?” Charity asked. “Because I’m not.”

Honor was laughing, too.

“Your lips are purple. Both of you.” Nick shook his head, nodding at their drinks. “Like, bright purple.”

Her aunt smiled widely, making sure they all saw just how purple her lips were.

Honor covered her mouth. “Really?” She dug around in her purse for a compact mirror. One look had her groaning. She rubbed her teeth with her fingers, bared her teeth, then frowned. “Awesome.” The color wasn’t budging.

“Really.” Nick nodded.

“It’s a good color, right?” Charity teased.

“You wear it well,” Honor agreed. How could her aunt make it look adorable when she looked like she was recovering from some seventeenth-century plague?

Nick shook his head. “I’m not sure anyone can wear that color well.”

Her mother nudged him and held out her hand for Honor’s list. “May I?”

Honor slid her phone across the table as a shout from the other side of the shopping center food court drew her attention. Gaming Central was crowded, kids of all ages pouring in and out of the arcade. Nick had spent most of the time they’d been shopping there—escaping the boring stuff, as he put it.

“Is the computer bag going to work?” Her mother smothered a yawn.

“It’s perfect, Mom.” Honor nodded. Considering her grandparents had bought her a way too expensive computer for her graduation present, she needed something to keep it safe. “I have everything I need. Thanks for today.” It had been Charity’s suggestion. She needed her college stuff, and everyone was on edge, so they’d hoped a day trip outside of Pecan Valley might be the distraction they all needed.

Her mom probably should have stayed home and napped, but knowing her mom, napping wouldn’t happen.

Nick was still a little tense and snappy, but he was trying—and she appreciated the effort.

“I’m getting some coffee.” Her mother stood. “Anybody want anything?”

“Ooh.” Charity peered around Nick. “They have those big molasses cookies, don’t they?”

Nick started laughing. “I’m a fan of sugar and all, but I’m thinking the cookie sandwich, bag of gummy fish, and your purple slushee have to meet some sort of quota.”

Charity’s eyes went round. “Oh my God, I did eat all of that, didn’t I?”

Nick leaned closer to their aunt. “And the double cheeseburger meal—”

Charity covered Nick’s mouth. “I’ve got it, Nick. No, thanks, Filly, I’m good.”

Honor laughed. It was true. Aunt Charity had been eating the entire time they’d shopped. For someone as tiny as she was, her appetite was impressive. Okay, for a three-hundred-pound rear tackle, her appetite was impressive.

“I feel like a bear on the verge of hibernation.” Charity shook her head.

Nick opened his mouth, but Honor kicked him under the table.

“Not a word from you.” Charity pointed at Nick. “Here, take my money and go play your games.” She shoved some ones his way.

“Paying for my silence?” Nick asked, standing. “I’m not going to argue. Let me know when you’re ready to leave.” He headed off, blond curls bouncing.

“I’m glad you made him come, Aunt Charity.” Honor watched her brother. “He needed a break from reality.”

“I’m not sure gaming on his couch at home versus gaming in an arcade is really all that different, but I’m glad he came, too.” Charity sighed, her gaze narrowing as she peered over Honor’s shoulder. “Um, isn’t that very tall man-boy with the dark hair talking to your mom your boyfriend?”

Honor froze.

“He’s got a whole crew of equally large, muscular friends with him.” Charity shook her head. “Is it a club or something?”

“Football.” This was bad. This was very bad. How was she supposed to act? How was he going to act? It wasn’t like they were in the confines of her home. No. They were out. In public. With his friends watching. There was no way he was going to pretend—

“Hey.” He pulled out the chair next to hers, dark hair spiked up, hazel eyes fixed on her, and his hand reaching out to take hers. “Hope you don’t mind me crashing. Nick said you guys were out shopping.”

She stared at him. Like, stared. Hard. Confused. “What are you doing here?”

“Nick said you’d be here?” he repeated, his fingers threading with hers. “I had to do some paperwork on base this morning, so I figured I’d try to meet up with you guys.”

On base. A hard, jagged knot stuck in her throat. “What about your friends?” she asked. “Aren’t you here with…people?”

“I told them I wanted to spend time with you.” He shrugged. “They get it.”

They got it, but she didn’t. As amazing and mind-blowing as his declaration in the kitchen had been, it just didn’t make sense. She was… And he was… And they just didn’t make sense. So why was he here, smiling at her, holding her hand, making her insides tighten with pure anticipation?

“You guys are too cute.” Charity stood. “I’m grabbing your mother for some old-lady shopping. I’ll text you in a bit. If you think you guys can occupy yourselves…?”

There was no reason to panic. They were less alone than they were at her house most of the time. But his sudden appearance had thrown her for a loop. Because… Owen.

Now Aunt Charity was gone, and she was still staring like an idiot.

“Your teeth are purple.”

She covered her mouth, horrified.

“Grape slushee?” He peered into her cup. “My favorite.” He took a long sip, then smiled.

She laughed.

“We match?” he asked, taking another long drink from her straw.

She was staring at him again. This time it was because he was without a doubt one of the most beautiful man-boys she’d ever seen. He was. He knocked her heart around and made her all light-headed and flustered. Whether or not it was a good thing had yet to be determined.

“You’re mad?” he asked, staring at their hands.

Was she? Mad? That he’d surprised her. Had he seriously come here for her? Like, seriously? “I’m not sure I understand why you’re here. I mean, it’s weird, isn’t it?”

His eyes locked with hers. “That I want to be with you?”

She swallowed hard, searching for a coherent response. He had a way of saying things that prevented her from forming meaningful sentences. “But my mom and aunt Charity aren’t here.”

He smiled, his free hand toying with one of her curls. “That morning…” He broke off. “Your mom catching us was the best thing that ever happened to me. If she hadn’t turned on that light, you’d still be ignoring my texts and phone calls. All I want is a chance here.” His gaze swept over her face. “For you to give us a chance.”

Us. The two-letter word had her reeling. “Owen.” What? Her mind went blank. Say something. This wasn’t happening. He wasn’t serious. And she was absolutely not falling…absolutely not in love with him. No way.

“Honor.” He was smiling that grin that made her insides melt.

“I—I’m not mad.” Her words were breathless and wavering, and she was holding on to his hand, leaning into him.

“I’m glad.” He nodded, his fingers tracing along her jaw. Unsteady fingers. He was shaking. Because of her? One look at his face, the warmth in his eyes, and her heart gave up the fight.

“Okay,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “Okay?”

“I’ll give you a chance, Owen Nel—”

Then he was kissing her, and finishing her sentence wasn’t important. He was kissing her, and nothing else mattered.

…

Charity pocketed her change and headed toward her sister. Her sister who was standing in front of a lingerie shop—staring at a rather racy bit of lacy naughtiness. Way to go, Filly. “I approve. You’d look good in that.”

Her sister jumped. Busted. She held out her soft pretzel, willing to share—a little.

“No, thank you.” Filly eyed her pretzel. “I thought you were going to the bathroom.”

“I did.” She grinned. “But these things smell so good. Now stop changing the subject. I bet Graham would be more than happy to play doctor with you in that getup.”

Felicity shook her head. “Charity.”

“What? Look at you getting all flustered and red. Why else would you be thinking about buying something like that?” Because, eventually, when they both woke up and realized how crazy they were about each other, her sister was going to rock Graham Murphy’s world. Or he was going to rock Filly’s. Either way—rocking of worlds was in their future.

“I was looking,” Filly argued. “Not buying.”

“Why does it have so many straps?” Charity asked, tilting her head. “Talk about impractical.” With a built-in push-up bra and intricate straps and hooks, sleeping was not its intent. It was meant to be worn—and removed. And, hopefully, the remover wouldn’t get trapped in all the intricate straps and hooks. “I’m not sure getting out of that would be…sexy. It’s sort of like a pretty bear trap. You might have to gnaw off a limb to get out of it.”

Felicity laughed. “Bear trap?”

Charity shrugged. “When in doubt, nakedness works. I’m not sure guys are as into this sort of stuff as we women think they are. Besides, something tells me Graham is just as hard up as you are, so this won’t be necessary.” Seeing Filly all sexified in something like this might just be too much for the good doctor.

“Would you stop.” Felicity was beyond flustered now. “Graham and I… That’s not going to happen.”

Charity loved her sister. She didn’t always understand her, but she loved her. Why Filly would choose to pass up an incredibly sweet and sexy man was beyond her. He ticked all the boxes. Single. Employed. Devoted. Handsome. And, as Di had pointed out, wealthy to boot. Unless her sister had found the perfect man, there was no excuse for not jumping on Graham Murphy. Immediately. Like, drive back to Pecan Valley and tackle him now.

Then it happened. A horrible thought. She said it wasn’t going to happen with Graham… Was there someone else? “Wait. No, please don’t tell me you’re thinking about Rob, white-teeth-lawyer guy. You’re not, are you?” She winced. “Hold my pretzel; I feel nauseous.” She was only partly kidding.

Felicity rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop. He’s not unattractive.”

“Felicity, please tell me you’re joking.” Charity squished her pretzel and stared at her sister in horror.

“I’m not joking.” She paused, lowering her voice. “Rob Klein is attractive.”

Charity couldn’t care less what the moms with school-age kids who were already wishing summer was over thought or what the elderly power walkers overheard. As for the teens staring mindlessly at their phones—they wouldn’t care. But she did. Her sister could not wind up with Rob Klein. She couldn’t. He wasn’t any better than Matt had been. His ridiculous teeth made him highly suspect.

“But no, I’m not interested in him—not to date or anything else.” With a final look at the nightgown, Filly hooked arms with her and added, “I’m not planning on sleeping with anyone. So let’s change the subject.”

She could breathe again—and mourn the mangling of her pretzel. “Why? What is stopping you? I know this may come as a shock to you, but I know you’ve had sex. And, if I recall, you enjoyed sex. Because you told me you did. So why would you give it up?” Charity dodged a stroller. “I mean, there will be no judging if you decide to seduce the good doctor.”

Filly was chewing on the inside of her bottom lip.

“Spill,” Charity pushed. “Come on, Filly. No secrets. I mean it about no judgment—you know that. I get that it must be hard to be attracted to someone who’s not your husband—sort of. In theory anyway. But it’s totally normal. You shouldn’t feel weird about it.”

“But I do. It’s not like I haven’t dreamed about it.” Filly’s whisper was almost funny. Almost. “Not that I can control my dreams—they just happen.”

Charity nodded. “But those dreams have got you thinking?”

“But dreaming about something and doing it are very different things. And—” She broke off, looking around them. “I’ve never seduced someone. Ever. I mean, Matt’s the only man who’s ever seen me naked.”

Charity wasn’t sure what to say. Her poor sister’s sex life consisted of Matt “Dickwad” Buchanan. She’d never pegged the guy as incredibly imaginative, so how great could Filly’s experience be? “Then you should give it a try. Maybe it’s your calling. I can think of a man who would probably be more than willing to see you naked. And to let you seduce him.” The look on her sister’s face had her dialing it back. “And it would be wrong to try because…?”

Felicity shook her head. “We’re not talking about this anymore.”

Because her big sister was freaking out. Over sex and lingerie and Graham and all the things that should be fun—not stressful.

“What do you want to talk about?” Charity asked.

“Baby stuff.” Felicity sighed. “We’re here. There’s a maternity store.”

Charity froze. “Um, no, thank you.”

“You said your pants are tight. You’re only going to keep getting bigger, Charity. Might as well get one or two pairs of pants. Maybe a shirt or two.”

She couldn’t live in her yoga pants much longer. Her mother was likely to burn them if she tried. Still, standing in front of a full-length mirror was something she now dreaded. She liked her body. It wasn’t perfect, but it suited her. Now, with the basketball swell more obvious every day, it didn’t. She didn’t look like herself. “Just tell me I’ll get my body back.”

Felicity hugged her. “Is that what’s worrying you?”

“That I’m inflating like a balloon? It’s sort of worrisome.”

“You’re pregnant. It would be more worrisome if you weren’t growing. You’re growing because your baby is growing.” Felicity hugged her again. “Worrying isn’t good for you, you know that?”

“Says you.” She took her sister’s hand.

“I’m trying, okay? It’s just, there’s been so much to worry about recently. Every time I think things are evening out, they fall apart.”

“No one has fallen apart, Filly. You’ve made sure of that. You’re always so good about taking care of everyone else, you know? I mean, I get it, the whole mom-nurturer thing. But it’s like you’ve removed yourself from that.”

“I take care of myself.”

Charity rolled her eyes. “You eat well and exercise, yes, I know. Mom reminds me of that every single time she sees me. I mean here.” She pointed at her sister’s chest—her heart.

Filly’s gaze fell from hers, and she went back to nibbling the inside of her lip.

And just like that, Charity was struck with inspiration. “I’ll make you a deal.”

Filly’s brows rose. “I can’t wait to hear this.”

She laughed. “Just hear me out, will you?”

Her sister nodded.

“I’ll buy fat-lady maternity clothes, whatever you think I need. But then we go back to that lingerie store and—”

“No. Absolutely not.” Felicity crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m too…too—”

“Scared to see that you’ve still got a rocking bod that deserves the loving of a good man? Whose initials might be—and probably are—GM. Who comes with a lot of baggage but is totally worth it?” She paused, making a big production out of taking a deep breath. “Who lights up when you walk into a room and clearly cares about your kids and, when you weren’t looking, has totally checked out your butt—”

“Charity.” Felicity cut her off.

“Was that a yes?” Charity poked. “I’m pretty sure you said yes, you’ll buy lingerie and I’ll buy maternity clothes. You have no idea how depressing that was to say.”

Her sister laughed. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She paused. “And I want you to be happy. That’s all I’m getting at, okay?”

Felicity nodded. “Okay.”

“Good.” Charity smiled. “Let’s start with the lingerie and then get the maternity clothes.”

Felicity sighed. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

They were halfway to the boutique when Felicity asked, “He really checked out my butt?”

You are so hot for the good doctor. “Yes, he did. And he definitely liked what he saw.”