Accidentally Family

by Sasha Summers

  Felicity held her tighter, aching for her sister. Learning she was pregnant with Honor had been a surprise, but she and Matt had been so in love and excited that fear had never entered into it. The same with Nick. Felicity immersed herself in motherhood—made cookies for parties, costumes for plays, and never missed a game or concert or field trip. Putting the kids first was one of the reasons Matt cited on their divorce papers. But she and Charity were wired differently.

  “Don’t worry, Charity,” Felicity said, stroking her sister’s hair. “You and your baby will be surrounded by people who love you. You’re not doing this alone, okay?”

  Charity nodded.

  They stayed that way, locked together, until Charity said, “Okay, okay, enough. I’m not liking this emotional junk, so let’s move on to eating ice cream or something.” She smiled at her, already rummaging through the pantry. “Hey, maybe my pregnancy will stop Honor from jumping Owen. You know, I’m a walking poster for premarital sex prevention.”

  Felicity sat, hard, in her chair. “Really?” She was still coming to terms with Honor and Owen.

  “She’s eighteen, Filly.” Like that said it all. “And, hello, did you see that kid?”

  Yes, she’d seen him. And heard him.

  And now, after the day she’d survived, she really needed that drink.

  …

  Nick kept checking the clock. It was after eight. Dr. Murphy was late.

  Maybe he wouldn’t show.

  Or he’d changed his mind.

  If he was lucky—yeah, right—his mother had snapped out of this whole weird dating Dr. Murphy thing and called it off.

  His phone vibrated for the eighty-seventh time in, like, two hours and his patience snapped. Eugene and half the JV football team had decided to harass the crap out of him about tomorrow’s big lake party. And Fran, his wannabe girlfriend, was making it extra hard to say no by sending him bikini pics. No other junior was stacked the way Fran Mendoza was. Thing was, she was super sweet, too. Too sweet to drag into his mental breakdown.

  And now Diana was blowing up his phone with rapid-fire texts—things were getting better and better. Done. He turned the phone off and tossed it onto the recliner behind him, texts unread.

  He didn’t want to deal with Diana, not tonight. If she said how cool it would be for her dad to hook up with his mom one more time, he would lose his shit. His mom had enough to deal with. She needed to stay as far away from Dr. Murphy and Diana as possible.

  His mom deserved the best.

  And the best man, the best father, would never let his daughter get mixed up with drugs, sneak out, and screw around with some loser who didn’t give a rat’s ass about her. Dr. Murphy being clueless made it hard to respect the man.

  Besides, Dr. Murphy was linked to his dad, had been best friends with his dad—that was a big fat strike against him.

  Now he needed to make his mom understand. Dating Graham could never work. Ever. Since no one else got that, it was his job to point it out.

  “Nick,” Honor gasped, leaning into him as a zombie charged the screen.

  He shifted his direction and avoided being killed with ease. “Chill.” He finished the round and picked up his soda can. “I’m empty. Want anything?” he asked Owen.

  Owen shook his head. “I’m good, man.”

  With a nod, he pushed through the kitchen door. His mother was at the table, propped on her elbow, reading a book. She glanced up when he came in, instantly smiling.

  “Need anything?” she asked, already standing.

  “I can get it.” He tossed the can in the recycling bin and opened the fridge. “Plans change?” he asked, doing his best to sound noncommittal.

  She nodded. “Babies. They’re on their own schedule.”

  Nick had vague recollections of his father running out of T-ball games, family dinners, and movies when his patients went into labor. Part of the job.

  “You okay with that?” He popped the tab on his soda and waited. Her smile wavered and pressure crashed down on his chest. He didn’t know what was worse: seeing her dating or seeing her unhappy.

  She shrugged. “I was looking forward to going out.”

  “Because of Dr. Murphy?” he asked, clearing his throat. “Or going out?”

  She looked at him with that look—the mom-look. “What’s up, Nickie?”

  He cleared his throat again. “Mom, you can’t date him. I know he’s cool, and you think he’s cute or whatever but, you know, Diana. And Mrs. Murphy. And Dad.”

  His mom frowned. “What about Diana and Julia and your dad?” She leaned against the counter, crossed her arms over her chest, and waited.

  “Diana is a fricking nightmare, Mom. Like, you have no idea. How does he not know how screwed up she is?” He held his hands up in front of him. “You don’t need that. You don’t want that. I don’t want her in my life.”

  Her eyes widened. “Nick—”

  “No, Mom, I’m serious.” His attempt at persuasion sounded more like desperation. “You don’t think it’s weird to date your best friend’s husband? I get Mrs. Murphy is dead, but still, isn’t that sort of really, really wrong?”

  She blinked.

  “And he was Dad’s best friend. Which means he can’t be all that great, you know?” He swallowed, the grainy nanny-cam video he’d walked in on too fresh. Whether or not his dad regretted leaving his family was beside the point. He’d left them, period. Even if he had come back, even if he wanted his real family again, it wouldn’t change what he’d done in the first place. Besides, the fight was the night before Honor’s graduation, meaning sometime between their arguing and Honor’s ceremony, they’d made up and were coming together. If they hadn’t, Amber would still be alive and taking care of her kid in the hospital. Bitterness tightened his throat. He didn’t want to think about his dad anymore, period, or anyone linked to him. As far as he was concerned, that part of his life was over.

  His mother was staring at him—looking way worried. He smiled, sipped his soda, and tried to calm down. “You can do better.”

  “I can?” she asked.

  He nodded. “When you’re ready, yeah.”

  “But I’m not ready?”

  “No.” He sighed. “Are you? I mean, is there someone you’re interested in?”

  Don’t freak out. Stay chill. It wasn’t working.

  And she saw it.

  “No.” She shook her head slowly. “No one.”

  “You and Dr. Murphy were just hanging out? As friends?” He’d been freaking out over nothing? Come to think of it, his mom was the only one who hadn’t geeked out over Dr. Murphy’s butt or how cute he was.

  “Does that bother you?” She waited, looking anxious.

  Did it? No. Hell no. As a friend, Dr. Murphy was awesome. She needed someone to hang out with who she wasn’t related to. “Nah.” He shook his head, breathing easier. “Okay, cool.” He paused. “Sooo, we’re good. You and Dr. Murphy aren’t dating and…everything’s cool.”

  “Totally cool,” she repeated, smiling.

  Wrong or not, Nick pretended he didn’t notice the effort behind her smile or the disappointment in her voice. Now that he and Honor were basically adults, it was his job to look out for his mom. He was okay with her and Dr. Murphy being friends. And Diana was fine to hang out with now and then—he just didn’t want her around all the time. Or living here. Besides, his mom didn’t need to be saddled with someone else’s kid.

  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 h
elp, 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 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.