“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 vac
ation?” 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.