God, I can’t imagine. “Poor kid.”
“Right, so—do I plan something? A special dinner or something fun to distract her?”
“Not to distract her.” We fall into step together as we skirt the edge of the lake, moving toward the Cox residence. “The opposite might be helpful, if you think she’d like to talk.”
“How do I know?”
His sweet sincerity makes me smile. “You could try asking her. If you know it’s coming, and Soph knows it’s coming, there’s nothing gained by pretending it’s not happening.”
“Good point.” The furrow in his brow tells me this isn’t the simple answer he’d hoped for. “I worry I’m not the best person for her to talk to. And her new friends—I’m not sure they’re close enough for her to share stuff like that yet.”
I move around a sun-warmed boulder, conscious of my arm brushing Griffin’s. “If you want, I could refer you to some local therapists specializing in teens. There’s one guy in particular I think would be great for Soph.”
His brow furrows. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
I turn to study his face. “You’re not a fan of therapy?”
“It’s not that.” He frowns. “Okay, maybe it’s that.” He lets out a slow breath and kicks a pebble off the path. “Look, things got weird with Gabby after she started seeing a shrink. And then couples’ counseling was such a train wreck.”
“Did you not like the therapist?” I’m fishing for details, and I’m not proud. But I do wonder what Gabrielle told Griffin. “Her psychologist or the one you saw together?”
“I never met hers.” He gives a disgusted snort. “Part of me wants to punch the guy. For putting ideas in her head or—”
“That’s not really how it works.” God, I need to tread carefully. “In couples’ counseling—did the therapist tell you what to do?”
“Not really.” He frowns. “By then, Gabby had her mind made up.”
“It happens that way sometimes.”
“Sure, I guess.” Another snort. “Look, I just don’t think her private shrink did us any favors.”
A chill snakes up my spine, but I force myself to keep going. This is about Griffin’s daughter and her needs. “Are you concerned the same thing might happen with Soph?”
“Not exactly.” He kicks another pebble, sending it skittering into the lake. “I just—I worry that’d give her more reason to shut me out. Like if she’s got her own shrink, what does she need me for?”
I stop walking and catch his arm, turning him to face me. His bicep is firm, and for a moment, I forget what I meant to say. “That’s not going to happen. She loves you, Griff. You and Soph have a strong relationship, and nothing’s going to change that.”
His brow furrows. “Yeah. The thing is, I thought the same about Gabby.”
Ouch.
I drop my hand and take a steadying breath. “I hear you. But it’s different with a daughter.”
“How?”
I hesitate. Will anything I’m about to say breach confidentiality with Gabrielle? “You’ve told me before that you and your wife were having problems.” I register his flinch at the word “wife.” Or maybe I’m projecting, conscious of the word’s bitterness on my tongue.
I swallow it back and continue. “But at least some of your ex-wife’s issues centered around problems between the two of you. I don’t get the sense that’s what Soph’s struggling with, and even if it is, you’re her dad. She loves you and needs you, and there’s nothing to indicate she’d turn her back on that parent/child relationship.”
Griff flinches again. This conversation isn’t easy for him; I can see that. But he looks deep into my eyes, then nods. “Okay,” he says at last. “I trust you.”
The breath leaves my lungs as those words land like a punch to the gut. If he knew, if he had any idea—
“Griffin.” I have to say something. Laws be damned, I can’t keep doing this. “Look, there’s something—”
“Mari!” Lana’s voice rings out across the water, and I turn to see my sisters striding toward us. Lauren’s nails flash bright fuchsia, and my chest tightens at the thought of their spa date.
I didn’t want a manicure, not really. But maybe I should have joined them.
“I’m glad we ran into you.” Lana bounds over and skids to a stop in front of us. “Everything’s coming together for the event. Nick got the motorized ladder hoist system installed this morning, so we’re ADA compliant.”
Lauren’s expression darkens at the mention of her ex, but she squares her shoulders like a badass. “Catering’s all set, and Gabe and I got cameras and lights ready. Do we have the okay from the permitting office?”
“I got the final approval this morning.” I glance at Griffin. “Will we need extra staffing? Bartenders or cleanup or whatever?”
He scrubs a hand over his chin. “I’ve got Frankie and Jen from the brewery. Between the three of us, we’ll have bartending covered.”
Lauren frowns. “We’ll need you to be the face of things on film. You sure you don’t want an extra bartender or two?”
“I can handle it.” Griffin shrugs. “You’ve got caterers for all the food, right?”
“Right.” Lana’s wheels are turning, and I can see she doesn’t love the idea of Griff tied up behind the bar. “This is a good opportunity for you to meet people. Mix and mingle and tell potential customers about the beers.”
He folds his arms. “Which I can do best while pouring them.”
Lauren presses her lips together and turns to me. “How about you, Mari? It’d be great to get some on-camera stuff with you tossing out shrink buzzwords about human connection and building a community and all that.”
A funny little thrill ripples through me. It’s gone in an instant, replaced by more practical emotions. “I can do more good behind the scenes. Keeping tabs on community members, making sure everyone’s following the rules.”
My sisters share one of their looks. A whole conversation I can’t hear, though I’m not sure they know that. “Suit yourself,” Lana says at last. “We’ll see you at dinner tonight?”
“Family dinner. Right.” It’s something we do once a month, and if memory serves, it’s Gabe’s turn to host. “Is Gretchen making salmon chowder?”
“Yeah, but without the salmon.” Lauren makes a face. “Or maybe she’s making a salmon-free batch for Cooper. I can’t remember. Anyway, we’ll see you there?”
“I’ll try to make it.” I’m not sure how I feel about salmon-less salmon chowder, but it’s nice of everyone to cater to Coop’s vegetarian needs. “Six thirty, right?”
“Yep,” Lauren says. “You’re bringing wine?”
“Actually, I might bring beer.” I deliberately don’t look at Griffin, afraid I’ll reveal how my pulse races just standing beside him. “There’s this grapefruity kind called a radler. It goes well with soup.”