My Italian Doctor

Chapter Thirty One

I wanted to stay in bed and cry. I couldn't. The tears were there. I could feel them and I knew it would help, but it was like my tear ducts were blocked. I pulled the duvet further up around my chin. It wasn't cold in the flat, I had the heating on full blast. I just needed the comfort, it was the only cuddle I was going to get. Even thinking that made me angry with myself. I couldn't stand the person I was becoming. I was whiny, quick to anger and lonely. I might hate what I was becoming, but I couldn't seem to stop it. The patheticness was a freight train hurtling towards me and I was standing with my foot stuck in the tracks.

I knew the bitterness was coming my way, but I couldn't do anything but watch it come. The more I hated myself, the more I blamed George. I wanted to get past it all but I just didn't know how. There I was feeling sorry for myself when I was the other woman. I wasn't the injured party in the story. I was the problem.

All that did was make it worse. Knowing that I was just the same as the man my mother had cheated with. Just the same as the thing that must have caused my father so much pain.

I knew I needed to speak to him, but I didn't know how to do that either. Everyone thought I was a daddy's girl, but I wasn't, not in the way they thought. My father was amazing. I looked up to him like no one else in the world. He had always provided for me, spoiled me rotten even. There was just something missing. A connection that never quite formed.

Everything had been exactly as everyone would expect until I hit my teens. It was like he didn't know how to be there because I was a fire-breathing hormonal mess. From then on, we weren't close. I couldn't remember the last time he had embraced me. We were both just awkward around each other, even though we still loved each other as much as we always had.

Having a conversation about how he felt and how everything had affected him was just something we weren't equipped for. Despite that, I knew it had to be done. He needed to know that I had found out, it was only fair for him to know. I couldn't face him unless he knew. It would feel like I was betraying him as much by not telling him as she had by cheating on him.

I didn't even know the full story, but cheating was cheating at the end of the day. Whatever the circumstances were, it wouldn't mitigate what she had done. The only thing I knew was that it had been with Bradford and frankly, that was enough. Bradford was a partner in the firm with my father. It only seemed to make it all worse. The least she could do was keep it away from people he had to see every day.

I decided then and there that while he was going through so much, I had no right to feel sorry for myself. I had to face the world and try and make his world a little better if I could.

Once the decision was made, it seemed infinitely easier. I threw the duvet off and sent it tumbling to the floor. I didn't quite have the energy to throw myself off the bed, so I settled for a roll. I just threw on some ripped jeans and a tee. It was similar to what I would have worn back at the vineyard. Seeing my father didn't have the same sort of expectations attached as seeing my mother. My father's love had always seemed more unconditional in some way.

He had never cared about whether I was presentable or had good manners. None of those things had ever mattered, not to him. He had always seen through the imperfections and only saw the real me. It was a shame that things had been so strained between us. The awkwardness had grown between us and caused a wedge that neither of us knew how to get rid of.

I waited until I knew he would be at work and headed straight there. It wasn't far from my flat but I spent the whole walk contemplating what I would actually say to him. I knew the only reason he had agreed to play nice was so I wouldn't find out what she had done to him. It was more than his pride could take for me to know and I had to go in there and tell him I knew. If it wasn't enough that she had hurt and betrayed him, she had forced me to do it too. Except I wouldn't. I wouldn't keep that kind of thing from him, no matter how much telling him would hurt us both.

I hated going to the office. It just always felt so cold and unwelcoming. There was so much glass that sometimes I wondered how it didn't all shatter and fall. All the offices on my dad's floor were glass and afforded no one any privacy. Which only made the prospect of what I was going to do even worse. I spoke to the receptionist and watched as she phoned through to my dad's office.

"He says he will be out in a few minutes."

"It's fine, I know the drill." I headed to the group of large but uncomfortable sofas. Sitting as far away from anyone else as I could. I picked up one of the glassy magazines from the coffee table in the centre. They made way too much effort to make it feel homely, especially given that it was an impossible task.

I was busy flicking through the pages of celebrity gossip when he came over and spoke to me. "Emily, what a pleasant surprise." I looked up but the hostility that seemed to surge through me was unacceptable. I knew I had to keep my temper in check, but it would be easier said than done.

"I'm just waiting to see my dad." I went back to my magazine and hoped Bradford would take the hint and leave me alone. He must have seen me come in from his office, but why he thought coming over to me was advisable was beyond me.

"Your mum is very upset about your visit."

"Oh, is she really?"

"You really hurt her feelings."

"Thank you for telling me, Bradford. I will be sure to go around and see her and do it all over again. Now, leave me alone before I say something I will regret." I couldn't believe he thought he had any sort of right to admonish me for anything. I had never tried so hard to keep my temper in check but I did it for my dad. I was certain he wouldn't want me mouthing off about his private life in front of so many people. Even more, of a reason why Bradford shouldn't have come to lecture me.

"There really is no reason to be so abrasive, Emily. She is your mother and she loves you."

"There are plenty of reasons, Bradford. Right now I hate her and if I feel like that about my own mother, can you imagine what my thoughts are towards you?"

"I always thought you were a nice young lady. Apparently, I was wrong."

"And I always thought you were nothing but a slimy lowlife, but apparently I was right. Walk away Bradford, because there is only so much I can do to stop myself from smacking you in the face." I shouldn't have said it, I knew I shouldn't, even as it came out of my mouth. The trouble was it was the truth. I wanted to slap him, to scream and shout at him. The only reason I wasn't was because of my dad and despite my loyalty to him, my patience wasn't going to last long.

I stood up to walk away from him, planning to head over to Candice at reception. At least if I was standing talking to her, then he wouldn't be able to talk to me. It was the only option I had to force him to leave me alone and keep myself from doing something stupid. As I tried to step past him, he grabbed my upper arm. I looked up at him and knew I was shooting him daggers but I didn't care. I wouldn't let him see that his fingers digging into my flesh were hurting me.

I leaned in closer to him and spoke in measured and calm tones, "you are not my father, no matter how many times you f**k my mother. So, kindly remove your hand, I don't know where it's been." It was the closest I would come to being able to tell him exactly what I thought of him. He made no effort to move, instead, he tightened his grip. I could feel the burn of him trapping my skin between his fingers and the sting of his nails.

"BRADFORD! Get your f*****g hands off my daughter." The whole area went completely silent. All eyes were bouncing between us and my dad. Bradford made no attempt to move at all. It made me laugh that I had tried so hard to keep myself calm and not scream and shout. Dad, on the other hand, had come out blaring at him without even attempting to keep himself calm. It wasn't who he was to come out screaming, which is why I had tried my hardest not to do it. To honour him.

The truth was he had dropped his usual calm facade because Bradford had dared to touch me. I was certain that he hadn't had a confrontation with the man over the affair, yet one altercation with me and he threw caution to the wind. The respect I had for him at that moment was palpable. I didn't need him to run to my rescue but I was touched that he had.