“You’re home already then?”
“Oh yeah, they kicked us out and I saw no point in sticking around. I caught a cab and decided to call it an early night,” I said smoothly.
My father is MetPol. Or in English, London Metropolitan Police. Chief Superintendent, in fact, and in charge of the Southwark division at New Scotland Yard. I am painfully aware he’s heard every lie and bullshit story ever put out for public consumption. He knows very well what I study in school. He knows the focus of my master’s program is the paintings of Tristan Mallerton. If art museums were being targeted for bombs, and I was working anywhere near then he would be all over it like white on rice. I know how his thought processes work. Having a cop for a father, I’d learned a few things through the years. Protecting me from harm was his number one priority.
“I sent Thorne over there to find you, and when he checked in to let me know you weren’t there, I worried, darling. You should’ve made contact,” he scolded me gently.
“I did, sort of. I waved to one of the security at Blackstone who knows me and let him see I was out of the building.”
Silence.
“And, you don’t have to send Desmond chasing after me every time, Dad.”
That last jab got me a heavy sigh, and I knew why. Desmond Thorne was my father’s unfailing answer to his paternal worries about me. A superintendent on the rise at Scotland Yard, and just perfect for me, according to my dad. Yep, Dad made no secret about how much he approved of Detective Superintendent Thorne as boyfriend-slash-husband-slash significant other, for me, either. Whatever name you put to it, Desmond was the man for the job in the eyes of my father.
It was hard too, because I did like Des. A bit on the serious side but he was easy on the eyes, and he wasn’t an ass. I’d give him props for making an effort with me. He’d made his interest known, and I wasn’t an idiot. I’m sure if I’d given him even the slightest bit of encouragement, I could have him any way I wanted, as often as I liked. Visions of sweaty sex appeared in my head and I closed my eyes in an attempt to push them back.
Now it was my turn to sigh, for this was the heart of my problem.
I couldn’t give in to those normal kinds of wants and desires that most girls have. Having a husband and two-point-four kids wasn’t in my future, no matter how much my dad wanted it for me, or how much Desmond Thorne would be willing to fulfill the role of making it happen for me, either. Let’s not be greedy, Gabrielle. You’ve used up your allotted credits.
Tonight’s fresh hell had showed me, yet again, how much that was true.
“I don’t want you going back there until the whole place has been given the all clear,” my dad said firmly, probably in an effort to change the topic.
Not a problem. Hell, I doubted if I’d ever be able to go into the National Gallery again and not think about what I’d done with a complete stranger.
“I won’t, Daddy.”
“That’s my good girl. I can’t have you putting yourself at risk. Think what your mum would’ve had to say to me about it.”
“Yeah…,” I managed to whisper.
Just the mention of her made a raw wave of pain rush at me. I struggled to hold back the flood ready to spill over.
“Now I’ve upset you, my darling, and I am so sorry.” My dad was straight-up hard line with most things, but when it came to his kids, and even the memory of my mother, he was very tenderhearted. He was a wonderful parent to me, and the fault wasn’t anything he did wrong.
Nothing other than the fact he wasn’t a woman. He wasn’t a mother. He wasn’t my mother.
My dad was a brilliant father, but sometimes a girl just needed her mom, and right now really felt like one of those times.
“It’s okay, Dad. I just miss her and sometimes I need someone to talk to abou—I mean—I just wish I could ask her for some advice—” I stopped blabbering, realizing how hurtful my words sounded. I didn’t mean to make him feel bad, but I’m sure I just had.
“And I’m no substitute, am I?” he asked quietly.
“No—Dad, it’s not you at all. You’re always there for me, and you always have been. I love you and you’re all I’ve got.”
“That’s never true, Gaby. You have your sister and brother, and your mum is still watching over all of you from heaven as she always will be.”
“I know—”
“And it’s normal for you to miss her, darling. I am very aware I’m just a useless old man but I am capable of listening…and I want you to know you can come to me to talk about anything at all. I might still be totally useless to you, but I do love you and want you to be happy.”
“I know you do, Dad. And you’re never useless. Forget what I said before. I’m the one that’s useless right now. I think I need to get more sleep.” I tried to make light of my situation.
“Now there’s something I can endorse. Get more sleep and I’m sure you’ll feel a great deal better in no time.”
Right, Dad. More sleep is so going to help me with my “problem.”