Page 18 of Doctor Grump

“I don’t care,” she said stubbornly.

“Of course you do. And it’s okay that you do. You’re not the one who’s in the wrong here. He didn’t understand that, honey, but I’ll talk to him.”

“You don’t have to,” she muttered.

“I know. But I will,” I said. And that was when I felt it, the slightest touch of her hand on my back.

Still, Kendy was not in a much better mood for the rest of the day. She didn’t say anything the entire way to school and back. While she was at school, I settled into the guest bedroom just as Ian had directed on a note he left and then started cooking dinner. He hadn’t technically mentioned that as part of my duties, but Kendy had to eat. Plus, I didn’t mind cooking. It was one of the few things I was good at, and I enjoyed making a meal that people enjoyed.

At 3 p.m., I drove over to pick Kendy up from school, finding her waiting for me on a bench just outside the gates.

“Heya,” I said as I drove up.

“Hi” was her much quieter reply as she got in. I continuously tried to engage in conversation on the way back, but the girl put on her headphones and drowned me out.

Fair enough. I would wear her down eventually. No one could resist the power of nice for very long.

Dinner was ready at about 4:30 p.m., but I decided to wait until Ian got back to serve it, thinking he might prefer to eat with his daughter since he hadn’t seen her all day. I gave Kendy a snack to tide her over until he returned.

But it took a while.

We waited and waited, but there was no sign of Ian until a little after 8 p.m., when we heard the sound of his car pulling in.

“Hey,” I said as he walked into the house. “Nice to see you. I made dinner. I didn’t know if you were a chicken or meat person, but—”

“I’m fine,” he replied curtly. Ignoring both his daughter and me on the couch, he continued up the stairs to his room, ending it with a final click of the door.

I glanced at Kendy in disbelief.

“Did he just—”

“Yes,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “I tried to tell you. He doesn’t usually eat dinner with me.”

“Are you serious? He hasn’t spent any time with you all day.”

Kendy shrugged. “It’s just how he is. You’ll get used to it. He does that all the time.”

I blinked at her in disbelief until my confusion finally turned into outrage. He just came home after barely speaking to his daughter all day, and the first thing he did was head to his room? Without so much as a “How are you, honey?”

Unacceptable.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, immediately marching up the stairs. It wasn’t hard to locate Ian’s room, knowing that Kendy’s was the bedroom closest to the back of the home. Plus, sounds of footsteps were coming through the door.

Not thinking of knocking, I swung open the door, ready to confront him. “How could you even think of—”

Just then, I had to swallow the rest of my words.

Because Ian Graham was standing there shirtless and staring at me.

8

IAN

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I immediately said as I pulled out of the parking lot of my home that morning.

I currently had my lawyer, Randy Fields, on the phone as I drove, and he was elaborating on our current problem, which he had texted me about this morning.

“Wish I was, man,” he said, and I could almost imagine the middle-aged man standing in his Brooklyn office with a cup of black coffee in his hands. “But it for sure arrived at my desk this morning. At first, I thought it was some kind of prank, that someone was trying to pull one over on me, but then I read it through and realized they were serious.”

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