Page 4 of Splintered Desire

Dad walks in the door without so much as knocking. I know they’ve been seeing each other for almost a year now, but I guess I hadn’t realized just how comfortable they were with each other. It’s strange to think about, considering I’ve hardly seen them together. Hell, I’ve hardly seen him with any women ever.

My eyes take a moment to adjust as we make it inside. Everything is white and so fucking bright. The floors sparkle, and looking up, I find a huge chandelier overhead. Dad chuckles and shakes his head as he watches me take a step to the side so that I’m no longer right under it. He can laugh all he wants. I’ve seen Final Destination.

“You’ll get used to it,” he says with a smile, but I can see the truth in his eyes. He’s not used to it either, not really. He’s just better at hiding it. I swallow back the snarky comment and give him a nod, reminding myself that this is important to him.

I don’t dislike Diane. From the few times I’ve met her, she’s been great, and she makes Dad happier than I’ve ever seen him. If I have to buy a pair of sunglasses to wear in here and avoid large objects that could make me a pancake, I’ll manage. There are worse ways to spend your life. Trust me, I know.

“Come on, Diane is probably out back by the pool.” He offers me his hand, and I quickly reach up to grab it. His smile widens before he turns and begins pulling me behind him toward the rear of the house.

My head is on a swivel as we go, trying to see everything. It’s impossible, but I try. I’d been joking earlier about getting lost, but now I find I’m grateful for Dad's guidance.

Everything is pristine, from the lounge chairs to the hall carpets. Art decorates the walls and shelves, and every surface has something, from books to a vase full of flowers that, from the smell, I imagine aren’t the same fake ones we had on our kitchen table for years.

It really is beautiful, but something about it doesn’t feel homey. Growing up in that old apartment, we didn't have much, but what we had was well-loved. The armchair Dad rocked me in forever had the imprint of him after years of time spent sitting there. The carpet was worn down where we walked most often. Even once we moved out, the new house had signs of us. Stacks of clutter, like old mail on the table and Dad's coffee mug that forever ended up next to the pot. The hole in the drywall in the living room from when I tripped, and my knee went through it.

Some might look down on those things, but they made the house ours; they showed the life inside ‌those four walls. This house might be huge and impressive to look at, but nothing about it suggests that anyone actually lives here. It looks staged, like a house that someone might show when people are looking to buy.

The sound of running water pulls my attention as we near the back of the house. I almost trip over my feet when I see the floor-to-ceiling window that lines the entire back wall. I make it as far as two steps outside before my feet stop moving, and my jaw falls open at the sight before me.

The pool…

When Dad said she’d be by the pool, I pictured what I imagined most people would. A big-ass rectangle of water, one end deeper than the other. Maybe a diving board or a slide even, since she seems to have all the money?

What I didn’t expect was a fucking oasis. The pool is still mostly a huge body of water, but instead of being surrounded by concrete like the one at my school, beautiful rock formations surround this one. The rocks surround the pool on all sides, slowly rising on the back half until they are high enough for a waterfall to form with a slide carved into the rocks next to it.

Small bushes and flowers decorate the far side of the pool, creating a sense of privacy from the rest of the open yard. About halfway through the pool, a small bridge made of dark stone crosses through, making an arch to swim under.

It’s breathtaking.

And also occupied.

While I’d been distracted by the pool, Dad made his way to Diane, who I now see resting in a lounge chair off to the side in the sun. She has a drink in one hand, and her annoying ass little dog, Bella, has her very own lounge chair to her left, an umbrella between them offering some shade.

I swear that dog hates me, but she loves my dad, as she should.

Diane and my father met because of Diane’s love for Bella. A little over a year ago, Dad had been working an overnight shift at the vet clinic near our house when Diane came busting in, freaking out that her dog was dying. Diane should have never been on our side of town, never had been before, but that was the only vet open at two in the morning.

Diane was a mess, but thankfully, Dad was able to figure out what had happened and save Bella. Apparently, on a late-night walk, Bella had run into a bed of flowers down near the tennis court. Diane didn’t realize the beautiful foxglove flowers she had planted in the spring were incredibly toxic to dogs. Bella’d started acting funny and was throwing up a few hours later, which sent Diane into a panic. Her usual vet was not only closed but out on vacation, which is how she ended up on our side of town. At the time, I couldn’t imagine going for a late-night walk with my tiny dog. I didn’t realize just how different our worlds really were.

She probably didn’t even leave her yard.

I look around and find a path beyond the pool that does, in fact, lead down to a tennis court.

This is crazy.

“Zela, dear!” Diane calls as Dad helps her to her feet before she makes her way toward me. Bella doesn’t move, but she growls from her little throne, and I roll my eyes. I could kick that dog across the yard like a football if I wanted to. Diane, on the other hand, is delighted to see me. The smile on her face makes me smile back at her, despite how uncomfortable this whole experience might be.

Diane has been nothing but nice to me, and as much as my dad adores her, she looks at him like he hung the damn moon.

What kind of daughter would I be if I weren't happy for them? If I didn’t at least give this my best try.

Diane pulls me into a hug, and despite sitting out in the heat, she still smells like her perfume. I swear she’s almost too perfect. Pulling back, she puts a hand on my shoulder and spins me around to face the pool.

“I want you to meet my boys!” she says with a smile, damn near squealing with excitement. “Boys!”

What?!

Oh no, she can’t mean what I think she means… right?