Page 5 of Thick and Thin

Unexpectedly, he burst out laughing. “I suppose I could have—but no. The only cameras inside focus on entryways, and there are two inside the gallery. There are also cameras around the property, and the security company has given me access to view them online, but there aren’t any capturing the second floor of the east wing.”

“Then—”

“Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to install others at various spots inside, but—”

“How did you know I’d been up there looking around?”

Sinclair laughed again, crinkling his eyes in the sweetest of ways. “You just got caught.” Smiling, I shook my head—so simple.

Until he continued speaking.

“I know you, Lise…and I can feel you moving about this mansion. I know where you go and what you do. You can’t hide from me.”

When my laughter faded, I hoped he couldn’t see the fear in my eyes. That didn’t feel like love.

It felt like obsession—and that was not what I wanted from Sinclair Whittier.

That night, I told Sinclair I wasn’t feeling well and I wouldn’t be joining him in his bedroom. Then I called my father, because he had a way of helping me feel grounded. But as much as I was hiding from him, I felt like he was hiding something from me.

To keep the conversation away from me, I asked, “Are you looking forward to your appointment next week?”

“Not particularly. You know doctors haven’t been much help with this.”

“Dad, we’ve talked about this. You know this treatment has the best chance of helping you.”

And he was silent.

So I pressed. “Si—Mr. Whittier said he was going to arrange to have someone drive you.” What he’d said to me was that he was considering letting me personally take him—but, as yet, I hadn’t heard his final verdict, so I needed to ask. “Has anyone contacted you?”

“Yes, and I told him I didn’t want his help. I don’t need to go.”

We went back and forth a bit and I finally let it go, not wanting to upset my father any further—but I was afraid he wouldn’t take advantage of what could be a life-saving treatment.

So when I logged into the University of Denver portal later that evening—not having looked at it for several days—what should have been thrilling news didn’t quite have that effect.

I’d been accepted.

But my education was the least of my worries right now. And, rather than sleep, I figured out exactly what I would say to Sinclair over breakfast.

My tactics, however, rarely went according to plan…

Before heading downstairs on Monday morning, I searched for the clinic phone number and called them. Finally, the receptionist had me talk to someone else. “Ms. Miller,” the woman said, “although you’re listed as your father’s emergency contact, I can’t tell you much due to HIPAA rules.”

“I understand that,” I said, but I didn’t really. What was the point of having an emergency contact if they couldn’t be contacted? “But this is an emergency. I’ve been away from home on business,” not exactly a lie, “and he’s been quite cagey about this upcoming appointment. I’m trying to get him to accept transportation from someone, but—”

“This is all I will say to you: your father did try to cancel his appointment last week, and we asked him to give it a week to think about it. We could easily fill that slot, but your father’s been on the list for a long time—”

“Don’t cancel that appointment. I’ll make sure he’s there.”

“Your father is the patient, Ms. Miller—and I don’t see that you have Medical Power of Attorney…so if he calls to cancel, we’ll respect his wishes. And we can’t notify you if he does.”

Damn it. Why, of all times, was my father being so stubborn?

After thanking her, I hung up…and readjusted what I planned to say to Sinclair.

If nothing else, this would be how I’d find out if he really cared about me.

Try as I might, I couldn’t hide the dark circles under my eyes or bring color to my cheeks, and makeup only made my lack of sleep more obvious. But I went downstairs with a mission, disregarding my tired appearance.

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