Page 46 of Daddy Down Under

“Maybe we should order food first? You told me you’ve barely eaten since breakfast.”

Annoyance flared. “I’m a big boy, Ocean. I can handle my liquor.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Just looking out for you. No need to get prickly.”

The waiter arrived, and I ordered my drink before Ocean could interject again. As we perused the menu, I disagreed with every suggestion Ocean made.

“The salmon looks good,” he said.

“Too fishy,” I countered.

“Steak?”

“Not in the mood for red meat.”

Ocean set down his menu, fixing me with those sea-blue eyes. “Cash, what’s really going on? You’ve been off all evening.”

I shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “Nothing. I’m just not that hungry.”

“Bull,” Ocean said softly. “Talk to me. Please?”

For a moment, I considered opening up, telling him about the man who’d looked like Preston, about the memories and fears it had dredged up. Instead, I downed half the scotch the waiter had brought in one swallow. “There’s nothing to talk about. Can we order and eat in peace?”

Ocean’s brow furrowed, concern evident in his expression. “Alright. But I’m here if you need me. You know that, right?”

I nodded, guilt gnawing at me even as I signaled the waiter for another drink. I knew I was being difficult, knew Ocean was only trying to help. But admitting that meant facing the turmoil inside me, and I wasn’t ready for that.

As we made our way back to the presidential suite, my restlessness only intensified. The opulent hallways of the Queen Victoria Hotel felt suffocating, each step a reminder of the control I was desperately clinging to.

“I’m gonna get some more work done,” I said, making a beeline for the study.

Ocean’s hand caught my arm. “Sweetheart, it’s nearly nine. Don’t you think it’s time to relax?”

I shrugged him off, the touch sending unwanted shivers down my spine. “I’m not tired. You go ahead.”

“Cash…” Ocean’s voice held a note of warning now. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I have work I need to get done. Not all of us have your carefree existence.”

Ocean stepped closer, his presence both comforting and unsettling. “You’ve been pushing me away all night. Talk to me, please.”

He’d backed me into a corner, both physically and emotionally, and I felt trapped. “I said I’m fine. Stop trying to psychoanalyze me.”

Ocean’s patience visibly frayed. “I’m not psychoanalyzing you. I’m worried about you. You’ve been acting out all evening, and it’s clear something’s bothering you.”

“Acting out?” I scoffed, anger rising to mask my vulnerability. “I’m not a child, Ocean.”

Ocean rose to his full height, and somehow, he felt much taller than me, like I was somehow shrinking. “No, you’re not a child, but you’re sure as fuck acting like one. Something’s the matter, and your refusal to talk about it is affecting both of us.”

“Maybe what’s wrong is you constantly hovering, trying to fix me. Did you ever think of that?”

Ocean’s eyes, usually so warm, hardened. “I’m not trying to fix you. I’m trying to understand and support you. But I can’t do that if you keep pushing me away.”

His words hit home, piercing through my defenses. I felt exposed, raw, and it terrified me. “I don’t need your support. I don’t need anyone’s support. I’ve made it this far on my own, haven’t I?”

“But you don’t have to do it alone anymore. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Let me in, Cash.”

You know that feeling when you’re watching someone make the stupidest decision of their life, yet you can’t look away because you want to witness the train wreck? That was how I felt. I was heading for disaster, but I couldn’t stop, couldn’t back down, couldn’t make myself walk away.

---