Daddy Next Door - The Complete Series Box Set (A Single Dad Navy SEAL Romance)

by Claire Adams

  "Sienna is – was just like Mother. She would refuse to come out of her dorm room for days. I used to have to bring her food. Then suddenly, I would run into her at the cafeteria. She would be bright and smiley and act as if nothing at all had ever been wrong. That's not right."

  "They are passionate, they know what they want, and they strive to make it perfect. I don't see anything wrong with that. Sure, they both take disappointments hard, but it just shows how much they care," my father said.

  "Just once, I want to hear you admit it is not normal," I said. "And don't even use your lawyer arguments on me. Normal is not postponing Christmas because Mother has locked herself in the closet. Normal is not you breaking down the closet door with a metal baseball bat because she hasn't said anything through the door for two hours. Normal is not a smart, popular, college girl at the top of her pre-med class suddenly slitting her wrists and bleeding to death in a bathtub!"

  I looked across the kitchen island at Charlotte. We had stood here and had the exact same conversation over and over again. Friends had offered contact information for doctors and psychologists, given my father books, and invited my mother to meetings. My parents always insisted she was fine.

  Now, Sienna would never be fine again and my father still could not face the facts. "Something must have happened to make Sienna do what she did. When I found out who made her feel that way, there will be hell to pay. I bet it was that boyfriend of hers, Owen. She was always complaining that he refused to get a real job or do anything with himself."

  I thought of Owen on the front cover of the gaming magazine. My father would never understand. "Speaking of Owen, have you called him?"

  "Why would I call him?"

  "Daddy, he needs to know! He doesn't go to UCLA. What if no one on campus had his contact information? What if they didn't think to get a hold of him? He might not even know Sienna is dead," I said.

  "Maybe he's the one that drove her to it."

  Charlotte sucked in air between her teeth, a sharp sound of disapproval. Even my father had to admit that was too harsh.

  He shrugged in deference to Charlotte. "I never liked him for Sienna. They were not a good match. He was going nowhere and trying to hold her back."

  "That doesn't mean he doesn't deserve to know," I argued. "Sienna loved him."

  "Sienna didn't love him," my father countered. "She thought he looked good in pictures. I never heard one conversation where they ever agreed. They argued before every date."

  "Only because they always did what Sienna wanted," I said.

  "Right, exactly. A man needs to have a little bit more of a backbone, don't you think?" my father said.

  "Enough backbone to make a phone call," I said.

  Charlotte bit her lip to stop a bubbling laugh. My father scowled but a short sparkle of admiration lit his eyes. I had no idea where the sharp backtalk was coming from, but I hoped it could yield results.

  "I raised two daughters. I wouldn't know the first thing about having a man-to-man chat with your sister's boyfriend. What if he cries?" my father said. He went to the side cupboard and poured himself another glass of whiskey. "How about you call him and I won't ground you for sass?"

  "You can't ground college students."

  My father shrugged again and walked out without another word.

  "Don't worry," Charlotte said. "I'll finish the sugar cookies. You have a phone call to make."

  I went up to my room and paced around, turning on every light. Sienna had once told me the secret to phone interviews was to talk while you looked in the mirror. She said it made you sound more natural, more relaxed, like it was a normal conversation with another human instead of disembodied voices.

  I brushed my hair, pinched a little pink into my cheeks, and put on a light layer of lipstick. I couldn't talk to Owen looking like a grief-stricken zombie urchin – if I could manage to talk to him at all.

  We used to talk on the phone in high school, quick chats before I handed the phone to Sienna, but later calls about video games. Sometimes, Owen called to ask my opinion about certain games or to talk through a new strategy. The calls kept up through college, so I had his number in my phone.

  The last call had been about a week ago. It started off about Dark Flag and his magazine interview. Then Owen had asked me about classes. We had talked for over two hours about me leaving UCLA.

  "Come to Vegas and we'll chat more," he had said.

  Well, I thought, I’m back in Vegas. This conversation was just going to be far different than anything I had dreamed.

  Chapter Two

  Owen

  I had to park two streets over. Once the car was off, I could not force myself to open the door. Hundreds of people were going to Sienna's funeral. They walked past my car in their expensive black dresses and hand-tailored suits. It took all I had not to start the car and drive away.

  Sienna hated my car. It was the same old, black Porsche I had bought from my father's mechanic when I turned sixteen. The seats were cracked, the exterior paint so worn it had lost its shine, and the dozens of dings marred the body. Still, the engine purred when it started. And, it pissed off both Sienna and my father. I loved that car.

  Sienna wanted everything to be perfect. If it worked but did not look good, then it would never be good enough for her. On the flip side, she was willing to put up with broken things that were beautiful. That was the reason I could not get out of the car.

  Her family made me uncomfortable. Sienna's mother was always way up or way down. One day, I saw her with her face streaked with tears and smeared make-up. A few hours after that, she was beaming as she belted out "Sweet Caroline" at the local bakery.

  Mr. Thomas was worse. He was a high-powered lawyer who never turned off his killer instinct for arguments. I once told him I was looking forward to the nice weather over the weekend. He looked up three forecasts and the farmer's almanac to prove me wrong. Sienna had just rolled her eyes at me and canceled my idea for a picnic.

  Still, they were a beautiful family with a beautiful house in beautiful Summerlin and Sienna loved them. I could not imagine facing them without her.

  What if they knew what had happened?

  I stopped again at the foot of the driveway. It was a safe bet Sienna's family would not care if I did not make an appearance. Her father would probably prefer it. I was about to turn around when I saw Quinn.

  She was carrying a huge spray of flowers towards the back entrance. Despite her removal from the front door crowd, a couple still stopped her to express their condolences. As she sank under the weight of the flowers, they unloaded their guilt at being more fortunate than her and her family. I could have punched the man for dabbing at his appropriately wet eyes instead of taking the heavy vase from her.

  As much as I wanted to turn around and never see these people again, I could not leave. If Quinn was handling it, so could I.

  I strode up and took the flowers from her without a word.

  "That's the boyfriend," the man's wife whispered as I headed for the back entrance.

  I pulled open the door and held it for Quinn. When I looked back to see if she was coming, I felt as if everyone from the driveway was staring at me. Somehow, they all knew what I had done. They knew it was my fault. Sienna was dead, they needed someone to blame, and I was the guy.

  "Thank you," Quinn said. She led the way in the back door and to the formal dining room. The long table was covered in tasteful flower arrangements.

  The scent of lilies made me sick, but we were the only ones in the room. I would have stayed amongst that sickly sweet stench all night if it was just the two of us. "Quinn, I'm so sorry."

  She waved a delicate hand. "We said all of that on the phone. I'm just glad you're here." She gave me a quick hug and retreated into the full front parlor.

  I took a deep breath and followed her into the crowd. Quinn slipped like a stranger through the people gathered there. She was right there in the family portrait on the wall, but all anyon
e could ever see was Sienna. Even when she was gone, she stole the limelight.

  "Is there anything else I can help with?" I asked.

  Quinn blinked up at me with her chocolate brown eyes. She glanced around to make sure I was speaking to her. "Not really. Not now."

  "Have you gone in to view the body?" I asked. It was a shit question, but I could not take it back.

  Quinn shook her head, so I held out my arm. Her cheeks blushed as she looked nervously from side to side. Sienna's little sister was clearly not used to being noticed. "Don't worry. They're staring at me. If I'm not falling apart just right or keeping it together well enough, they'll dock my score," I said.

  She pulled her lips in to stop a smile. "Or they're thinking how nasty I am putting the moves on my sister's boyfriend." Her cheeks burned brighter.

  "They don't know how long we've known each other. They don't know I've seen Pretty Pony sheets on your bed," I said.

  "They don't know that you made me pick out Sienna's Valentine’s gifts every year since you two started dating."

  "I gave you boxes of chocolates every year," I reminded her.

  "M&Ms wrapped in Post-It Notes."

  "With pass codes and Easter Eggs."

  "My favorite," she admitted.

  We stopped in the viewing line. I knew I should let go of her, but I kept her arm tucked tightly against me. She leaned on my arm in the crush of people and did not try to pull it free.

  "Speaking of Easter Eggs," I said, "remember that time Sienna got mad at me for dying eggs wrong?"

  "You mixed the colors until it was dark brown and told her you were making rabbit turds," Quinn said. She chewed her lip to hide another smile.

  "She kicked us both out of the kitchen for laughing. We ended up eating jelly beans and playing Vice City until one in the morning."

  Quinn gave a ragged sigh. "Sienna dyed the most perfect Easter Eggs. She blew the yokes out and everything. I always tried to save the prettiest until the next year. Until she pointed out I could just take pictures. I think I still have some stashed away."

  "What? Pictures of eggs?"

  Quinn shook her head and said nothing. Only Quinn would carefully preserve something as delicate as a hollow egg. To her, they were treasures to be saved. I loved how she treasured things. Sienna always treated everything like a prototype to be tossed away in the hopes the next one would be better.

  "Owen, we're so glad you came. Have you signed the guestbook yet?" Mr. Thomas asked. He took my elbow and guided me out of line.

  Quinn slipped her arm out and opened her mouth to stop her father.

  He shook his head at her. "It would mean so much to us if you'd put down a few words about Sienna. You knew her so well."

  Once we were out of Quinn's hearing, he hissed in my ear. "Nice of you to come, but you're upsetting my wife. Sign the guestbook and go."

  Mr. Thomas dropped my arm and went to greet better guests. I rubbed my elbow and realized he had shoved me towards the door. There was no guestbook that I could see.

  Instead, there were large collages of Sienna. Her photogenic life had been carefully curated and mounted to best highlight her successes. Other guests gushed over the beauty and the achievements, but I could not see it.

  A proud picture of her with a glistening show horse and a trophy looked perfect. I cringed as I remembered Sienna telling me how she hated her first horse. She lied and told the trainer it had bitten her so she could ride a better one. The trainer had taken her at her word and sold the horse to a trail ride farm up north.

  Her prize science fair display looked like the perfection of a curious and intelligent mind. To me, it signified being stood up two times in one week. Then, Sienna had accused me of trying to sabotage her work by guilting her.

  Then, there was the bake sale photograph and accompanying newspaper article. I knew Quinn had baked those cookies. Hours after the fundraiser was over, Sienna refused to get out of her bed. She was so depressed at being outdone by someone else that she did not speak to Quinn for days.

  Not only had Quinn let her older sister take the credit, she had spent days trying to lift Sienna out of her selfish funk. I had one foot out of the door but stopped. The least I could do was stay and make sure Quinn was alright.

  She was standing off to the side in her own living room. Her mother and father had given her seat away to a prominent neighbor. I was partially disgusted by her parents' heartlessness. The other part was delighted that she was within reach.

  "This seat taken?" I asked.

  Quinn shifted along the wall and almost smiled. It faded as the hired priest moved to stand in front of the fireplace. The packed room grew quiet.

  "A great light amongst us has gone out. And we may feel as empty and cold as this unlit fireplace," the priest gestured behind him awkwardly, "but together we will stay warm."

  It’s 86 degrees out, I thought.

  "Sienna Thomas was a caring, thoughtful, and ambitious woman. She had her sights set on becoming a surgeon so she could help those among us that needed to be healed," the priest said.

  Quinn shifted from one foot to the other. She refused to look at me, but I knew the greeting card version of Sienna's life bothered her. Within days, her sister had sky-rocketed into sugar-coated memories and ideal assumptions. Her real sister was fading away.

  "When her life was tragically struck down by a drunk driver on her college campus, we all felt a deep and abiding loss," the priest droned on.

  Quinn stood up, her pale face covered in shock. I took her hand and squeezed. If she said something now, it would only ruin her. Sienna's memory was perfect, unmarred by the truth. There was no way Quinn could change that without destroying herself.

  "It’s not right," she whispered to me.

  "It’s easier for your parents, for everyone," I told her.

  "I was there. I saw. Nothing's going to make that easier for me, especially not some lie that blames someone else for her death," Quinn hissed.

  I held her hand harder. She had not given me many details on the phone. I certainly did not know Quinn had seen Sienna's body before the coroner covered her. My mind reeled the rest of the service.

  I had no idea what bothered me the most about Quinn seeing Sienna like that. The crowd of mourners finally moved on through the dining room and into the backyard for refreshments. I found myself alone with a few stranglers ringed around the edge of the living room. I walked up to Sienna's open casket.

  She looked perfect – her make-up a little too thick and her lips a little too red, but perfect.

  "Hey, beautiful. Remember how a long time ago you asked me to tell you when you were behaving rotten? I gotta call you out one last time. You knew someone was going to find you. Either your roommate or your sister. What an awful thing to put on someone else. You didn't think of that, did you? You probably had this whole damned funeral planned down to the photographs and flowers. But you didn't think for one second what you'd be doing to other people. She saw you, Sienna. Like that. Makes me glad you're gone. You can't hurt me or Quinn anymore."

  I stepped back and swiped away the angry tears. Across the room, closer than she should have been, Quinn stared at me wide-eyed. I swallowed hard and hoped she did not hear what I had said.

  #

  It was time to go. I turned to make a break for the front door only to bump into a wall of former classmates.

  "Weird high school reunion, huh?" Ben said. He had been the captain of the football team. The same irritated estimation from our teenage years was in his eyes as he looked me over. He still could not understand why Sienna chose me over him.

  Ben was my height with buzzed brown hair. His square jaw and cleft chin could have put him in those mail order sweater catalogs. He'd gone on to college with a football scholarship and had not changed one bit.

  "What are you up to these days?" he asked. "Is there a market for being too cool for school?"

  His cronies, a trio of Ben knock-offs at various heights, laugh
ed.

  "I heard you're still hanging out at arcades or something, right?" the first crony asked.

  "Something like that," I said. I tried to step past them.

  "You were still with Sienna, weren't you?" Ben asked. "That is rough, man, just rough. You doing okay?"

  The actual sincerity of his statement set me back a step. "I think I'm still in shock."

  "No kidding. I could have imagined a dozen other people from our graduating class offing themselves, but not her." Ben scrubbed his cleft chin. "I keep thinking maybe it’s a joke. Like that time you swapped out the science dummies’ insides with lunch meat. Remember? You used food coloring to make the white rats have bloody mouths so it looked like they'd turned zombie or something?"

  "Yeah," I said. "Sienna would never go for a fake-your-death-then-zombie-attack-your-own-funeral kind of joke."

  "See, that's what I'm saying. I could never figure you two out," Ben said. He clapped an arm around my shoulder and forced me to join him on the back porch.

  The yard was full of cliques I remembered from high school. I looked around and could not find one knot of people with a gravitational pull. It was the same when I was actually in high school. I drifted, had plenty of friends, but no one close, and people either thought that was really cool or really weird.

  I played it off then like I was a rebel, but looking at the funeral reception, I did not have the energy. The truth was I did not care. Small talk, schmoozing, and keeping up appearances – that was all Sienna. She made me hit my limit and I could not go back.

  "Shit, this looks miserable. Count me out," I said.

  "So, what? That's it. Sienna dies and you head back to whatever basement you make your money from?" Ben asked. "Yeah, I know all about the gaming thing. Nice gig."

  "Yeah, guess I have a talent for it."

  "You're for real? No wonder Sienna was getting sick of you. She was heading off to be a surgeon and you're playing video games," he said. He unwrapped his arm and gave my shoulder a punch. "This your wake-up call or what?"