Page 56 of Doctor Bossy

I knew, at that moment, that something had changed between father and son. I may not know much about their relationship, but I could tell from James’ expression that this was an unprecedented reaction. The abject shock seemed to freeze on his features for mere seconds before morphing into a cold, violent rage.

The emotion remained, hanging in the air even after he left, pervading the atmosphere with unease and the sense that something very vital was just shattered.

Griffin remained standing for a few seconds after James left. His back was facing me, but his muscles were bunched up as a testament to the strength of his emotion. And then, all of a sudden, his body relaxed, but not in a good way. It relaxed in the way of a gunshot slamming into you and knocking the wind out of you, or like a man so used to holding up the world, and all of a sudden, it dropped at his feet.

I could tell the realization of what he’d just done was sinking in, and it broke my heart.

“Griff,” I said, and he turned around. His face was carefully blank, a line of tension on his forehead. I didn’t know what else to say. “Are you okay?”

Stupid question, but it was the only thing I could think of.

He shook his head. “I’ll be right back.”

And then he was gone, leaving me alone with my piercing guilt and anguished thoughts.

I leaned back in bed as scenarios ran through my head, thoughts of how this could have been different. I never meant for any of this to happen, to cause a rift between Griffin and his son. The thought of James did not even pop into my head when I agreed to this relationship. And despite everything James did to me, it wasn’t my intention to hurt him back by sleeping with his dad.

This thing between Griffin and me had come out of left field and knocked me over for a loop too. It had been completely unexpected, and the depths of my feelings for him surprised even me.

Because I wasn’t an idiot. I knew what was going on here.

Despite Griffin’s warnings and the ones I gave to myself, I was developing feelings for the man. Deep feelings, the type that had my heart wringing at the thought of him in pain. I was about to marry James, and I didn’t think I even felt half for him what I felt for his father, especially in such a short amount of time. It was crazy to think about because it had been a few short months since we started speaking, but everything about him convinced me that he was an honorable, loyal, and kind man. The type that maybe came into a woman’s life once in a blue moon if she was lucky.

Scratch that. Most women would never get to experience a man like Griffin. Most women in my generation had to settle for the Jameses of this world.

Griffin helped me so much in so many ways. And what did I do in return? Nearly destroy his lifework and wreck his relationship with his son.

I had to fix it, I thought as I hastily got out of bed and threw on some clothes. I didn’t have any clear idea of what I was going to do yet, but I knew I had to convince Griff to go after James and make him understand. Perhaps they could make amends…maybe if I wasn’t in the picture.

The thought of leaving pained me, but I was willing to give Griffin up if I had to. I would do it for him.

I exited the room and looked around. Griffin was nowhere in sight, and the manor was far too large to wander around every room looking for him. Luckily, I ran into Arnold, who was walking up the stairs with a tray of food in his hand.

“Hey, Arnold,” I greeted the man, who smiled at me fondly. “Do you know where Griffin went? I can’t seem to find him.”

“I believe he’s downstairs,” he answered, glancing to the side before carefully giving me a look I didn’t entirely understand. “But I think you should wait for him in his room. He’ll be up soon.”

The way he said it as well as the smile after it, raised some flags. I nodded and said, “Thanks.” But the minute I saw him disappear around the corner into the bedroom, I began down the stairs, moving in the direction Arnold had glanced at.

I heard it before I approached the heavy door—a wrenching sound that almost sounded like hacking clawed out of the depths of one’s soul. I nearly ran in to make sure he was okay, but I had the forbearance to pause for a little while in front of the cracked open door.

I saw Griffin on his knees; his whole body bent over as if contorting in pain. I could only see the side of his face, but it was enough to have me clutching my chest. He looked like the picture of perfect torment.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and I thought he was talking to himself at first until he looked up at the painting hanging on the wall. “I’m so sorry, Heather.”

His wife.

I angled myself to the side of the door, so I could see the painting of a bright-faced smiling blonde-haired woman with sparkling eyes.

It was one of the most realistic paintings I had ever seen. The image practically breathed.

The woman was tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and looked a little shy to be having her picture taken but was happy about it all the same. She was beautiful, but not in a traditional sense. In fact, a layman would probably have seen her as ordinary, but there was something about the way her face glowed with so much kindness and sweetness that turned her absolutely gorgeous.

It was his wife. I knew it without a doubt.

He was weeping at his wife’s picture, apologizing because of what he had done with his son. And maybe also because of what we had done.

“They weren’t Heather,” he had said back in the room.“They weren’t my wife.”

---