Carol Marinelli - The Best Of The Year - Medical Romance

“No, your mother’s fine. I spoke with her this morning.”

Mira’s eyes widened. He had? More alarm bells went off as he crossed the honey-planked flooring and headed for the door that led to a different wing of the lodge, one that wasn’t open to the public. She followed him, winding through the narrow corridors until they reached the small annex where his office and the business areas were housed. Once the door shut behind them, he motioned her to one of the leather wingback chairs across from his desk.

She dropped into it, the creak of leather matching that of her nerves. “Daddy?”

All the differences of the past several years seemed to vanish as her unease continued to grow.

Instead of going behind the desk to face her, he went to the bar on the left and got down a tumbler from the open wooden shelves above the liquor bottles and dumped a few cubes of ice into it. He stared at the selection of alcohol for a long time—as if he’d never seen it before—and finally grabbed a decanter, uncapping it and pouring himself a healthy amount. He rarely drank, and only kept the liquor here for VIP meetings and gatherings.

He took a good-sized swig then sighed and added another splash of whatever was in the decanter. “I know I haven’t done right by you and your mother. I’ve often wished I could go back and change some things, but I can’t.”

He turned around to face her, leaning against the counter and taking another sip from his glass. As if realizing his oversight, he frowned. “Do you want something?”

It was probably better if she didn’t have anything this early, but she suddenly felt the need to brace herself for whatever he was about to say. “Maybe a little red wine?”

He fixed her a glass then brought it over and handed it to her before dragging the other chair around so it faced her.

She clenched her glass. Something was definitely wrong. “Are you ill?”

“No, Mirry, but it might be better if I were.”

Her heart squeezed. “Don’t say that,” she whispered. Suddenly the years she’d wasted being angry with him flew by at an alarming rate, dropping her into the here and now. She set her untouched drink onto the marble-topped table next to her.

He smiled and took another drink, the ice clinking against his glass. “That comment surprises me, to be honest.”

“We might have our differences, but you’re still my father.”

“Yes, I am. And something has come up that’s made me aware of all the mistakes I made with you. With your mom. It has made me want to do all I can to make things right and to not...” he gave a visible swallow “...repeat those mistakes with anyone else.”

“What is it?”

“Stella’s pregnant.”

Stella. It took her a minute to put a face with a name.

Paramour number six? Or was it seven? Pregnant?

Mira would have asked if he was sure, but from the redness in his eyes and the unsteadiness of the hand holding the drink she’d say he was dead certain. Instead, she ventured, “Are you happy about that?”

He held her gaze for a long time before nodding. “I screwed up with you. With your mother. Maybe I can learn from those mistakes and do a better job this time around.”

He wasn’t dying. Her mom wasn’t dying. That’s all that mattered. She stood and went over to him, taking his drink and setting it on the table behind him. Kneeling beside the chair, she put her arms around him and laid her head on his chest, feeling a love and affection she hadn’t felt in a very long time. “I’m happy for you, Daddy. Really happy. If I know Mom, she is too.”

His hand came up to stroke her hair. “I plan to marry Stella. I came to ask you for your blessing.”

She leaned back to look at him. He’d surprised her yet again. Her father of old would have simply declared his intentions and dared her to say a word against it. It was one of the reasons they hadn’t reconciled over the years. He’d acted like the world was his to own...to possess at will.

And yet now he wanted her blessing. If she wanted to blast him with accusations, now was the time. Only she didn’t want to.

“You have it, Daddy. Of course you do.”

“I know I haven’t even walked you down the aisle yet, but I want to ask if you’d do me the honor of standing beside me as I take my vows.”

A wave of emotion rolled over her, bringing with it a prickling at the backs of her eyelids. She blinked it away as best she could. “Is that okay with Stella?”

“Yes. She wants to meet you. I called your mom as well, to ask her permission. She told me to ask you, and that she’d support your decision whatever it was.” He paused. “Stella’s a wonderful woman, Mirry. I want to do right by her. And by you this time. This is the only way I know how.”

“Then, of course, I’ll stand beside you. I’d be happy to.”

A ragged sigh went past her ear. “Thank you. It means the world to me.”

She squeezed him tight before leaning over to kiss his grizzled cheek. She stood and took a step back, noticing for the first time the heavy streaks of gray in his still thick hair. When had that happened? When she’d been too busy with her anger to look directly at him?

“I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, princess.” The man who’d always seemed larger than life to Mira dragged his fist across his eyes then stood as well. “Now, what’s this about you and Robert?”

It was tempting to just put it off, to pretend that things were fine, but her dad had been honest and real with her for the first time in years. She could do no less.

“I broke our engagement.”

He stood there silent for a long time before saying anything. “What happened?”

Honesty, Mira.

Although maybe she could put a little spin on that honesty so she wouldn’t mar his moment of happiness or endanger the tentative bridge they’d just built between them.

“It just wasn’t working.”

“I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

“About that? Not a thing.” She nodded toward her untouched glass. “But I think I’ve changed my mind about my drink. If you have something festive in that wine cooler of yours, like champagne, I vote we pop the cork and toast to your good fortune. And to my new baby brother or sister.”

* * *

The first snowfall since his arrival met Jack as he stepped into the lobby for his “date.”

Why he’d booked that sleigh ride he had no idea. Maybe because Mira had reminded him again at dinner two nights ago with her father—which he’d found he couldn’t get out of, no matter how badly he’d wanted to. He’d had no idea Mira was a doctor, let alone that her father owned the whole damn resort. Neither of them had mentioned her ex fiancé. In fact, they’d both seemed pretty set on avoiding that whole subject during their meal.

Did her father even know?

He’d gotten very little sleep last night. His bottle of pills had whispered to him from the drawer of the nightstand, but he’d ignored it. And the dreams had come back with a vengeance.

As tired as he was, the last thing Jack wanted was to get involved in some huge family drama. He’d had enough of that to last him a lifetime. The blame game had made the rounds after his wife’s death with every finger in her family—including his own—pointed directly at his chest, where there was still a gaping hole that no amount of shoveling could fill.

Jabbing his fists into the pockets of his dark slacks, he stared out the window at the whisper-soft flakes dancing in the night breeze, the outside lights making them glimmer and sparkle as they made their way to earth. There were a few footprints across the snow, but for the most part the new layer stretched across the acreage of the resort like a blanket. The walkways had yet to be shoveled. Mira said the sleigh would pull up at the far edge of the drive, a hundred yards or so from the front entrance of the main building. There was no sign of the sleigh, or of Mira, for that matter.