The last thing I wanted was to go out to dinner. Even if it was with Didi. I knew everyone who’d be there, and it wasn’t like any of it would be a chore, but things were finally moving faster with the clinic, fast enough that all the hiring was mostly done and word was starting to get out.

The only big problem was that we still hadn’t gotten the okay to open.

That was severely problematic.

Sometimes, I wished I’d just opened as a private, for-profit center. A lot less hassle on that front, but then there was a lot more chance for the people running the clinic once I stepped out of the way to abuse and exploit it. Even if I planned on running it until I couldn’t anymore, there would come a point in time where it would have to go on without me, and I had to protect it. I wasn’t so stupid as to not see the potential even with a non-profit center, but non-profit entities had more oversight. And the doors would be open to more than just the wealthy.

I wanted that too.

I finished showering and getting dressed, a hundred things on my mind besides getting out of the house in the next thirty minutes. My office and the pile of paperwork was calling me. I’d hired an administrator recently, but I still reviewed every hire, every major decision. I didn’t want anything to fall through the cracks. There was so much to do.

My phone buzzed across the room. When I didn’t pick it up after a few rings, it went silent.

Then it started to ring again.

Didi. I knew without even looking.

Sighing, I rubbed the back of my neck and debated whether to answer. I debated too long, and it went quiet again.

Then it started to ring a third time.

I answered that one.

“You better not be sitting in your office,” she said without preamble. “You’ve been ditching me for dinner dates for weeks. You’re not doing it again. You’re my best friend, and it’s my duty to drag you out of that house before you forget how to communicate with your fellow man.”

“You are a pain in the ass.”

“I love you too,” she replied sweetly. “Are you sitting in your office?”

I’d been thinking about it, but since I wasn’t, I could answer honestly. “No.”

“Good. Then you won’t be late, right? A friend of mine is joining us. You’ll be happy.”

“Didi.” Groaning, I dropped down onto my bed. “If you’re trying to set me up with another one of your friends, I’m just going to say it here and now…I’ll leave. I’m not doing that again.”

“I’m not, you big baby. I learned my lesson.” She huffed out an annoyed breath. “It’s just a friend. Now get your sexy ass over here.”

She hung up without another word.

Dropping the phone down on the bed, I stared at the ceiling. I could still go into my office, shut the door, lock out the world.

And I’d disappoint my best friend. My real family.

So I got up and finished getting ready.

* * *

Didi was rushing around the kitchen like a mad scientist when I got there, pots steaming, tantalizing smells lingering in the air. She always liked to do a faux Thanksgiving halfway through November, claiming it was the chance to perfect her holiday fare.

Her girlfriend Christal had been banished from the room. Any time Christal tried to cook, bad things happened. I’d watched a grease fire erupt within seconds of her turning on the stove. She was the only person I knew who’d actually managed to make a smoke alarm give up the ghost by trying to make an entire meal on her own. It was almost magical how badly things went wrong with her and kitchens.

She didn’t really mind the teasing...or the banishing. She much preferred to do things like set the table, arrange centerpieces, and howl at the commentators over bad calls. I wasn’t much of a football fan, but it was entertaining to listen to her.

Her running commentary was a welcome interlude from Didi’s grumbling.

“I could have gotten some work done,” I said, sipping my wine to keep from smiling when Didi turned an irate glare on me. “You never time things right.”

“Bite me.” She bent over the stove, and I lapsed into silence as she checked the turkey. Her aggrieved moan said everything. “It’ll be another thirty minutes or so, at least.”

“And how long until your guest arrives?”

“Well, I’m going to have Christal throw your ass out the window, so you’ll need to go to the emergency room, and it’s a weekend, we’re probably looking at a few hours before you’ll even be seen…” She trailed off, but there was a faint smile on her lips. “Yes, I’m a bad planner. Shoot me.”

“Nah.” Shoving off the seat, I went to hug her. “It’s not like most of this stuff won’t hold until the turkey’s done. And…” I scooped up another deviled egg. “I’ll take care of the things that won’t.”

I hadn’t eaten breakfast. Or dinner the previous night, I didn’t think. Too often, I forgot meals, and when I finally remembered to eat, I was ravenous. Case in point: I’d already demolished four or five deviled eggs and several of the bacon-wrapped dates.

“You better leave some of those for me,” Christal called from the other room. “Better yet, bring them in here.”

I nodded at Didi and took the plate, carrying them into the living room where Christal was watching TV and sipping wine.

“Should I feel bad that I can’t go in there and help without risk of setting the place ablaze or cutting off a thumb?” She took an egg and popped it into her mouth.

“No. I think she likes your thumbs in place and the building not ablaze.” I gave her a fond smile.

I put the plate down and roamed over to the window, staring outside. I always felt restless when I wasn’t working. I didn’t relax well.

“Besides, if she didn’t like the chaos of it, she wouldn’t have insisted on cooking, and we would have gone out to eat like normal people do.”

“Only rich people think that’s how normal people do it.” She laughed.

Glancing at her, I shrugged. “Guilty.”

Since Didi had threatened to stab me with a knife if I so much as pulled out my phone, I sat down next to Christal and studied the TV. I knew better than to suggest that we find something other than football. She liked ogling the cheerleaders too much.

I sighed. “Who’s playing?”

When the doorbell rang thirty minutes later, I was the one to answer. Christal was opening another bottle of wine – the one kitchen chore she said she excelled at – and Didi was still glaring at the turkey.

“Hello, Senator.”

Sondra Thatcher stood on the doorstep. A few feet away, her bodyguard stood with her. He only nodded while Sondra reached out with both hands. “Dash! How good to see you!”

The enthusiastic greeting caught me off guard. We’d met just a few times, but I took her hands and let her tug me in closer so she could kiss my cheek.

“Sondra!”

Didi’s voice rang out behind me, and I stepped aside.

As my friend rushed up to greet Sondra, I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans. Was this the surprise Didi mentioned? I needed to talk to her about expectations. Then again, it was better than her trying to set me up on another disastrous date.

A few low murmurs passed between them before I caught the conspiratorial look, then Didi shook her head.

“Ahhh…I see. Well then.” Sondra came inside, her bodyguard trailing behind. Sondra did a round of introductions, and I shook Marcus’s hand.

Once the pleasantries were over, I focused back on Didi and Sondra. “So what was with that ahhh, I see…moment?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Sondra said airily. “Didi, you must let me help in the kitchen. I hardly ever have time to cook these days, and I miss it.”

Didi hooked her arm through Sondra’s and led the other woman off, leaving me to glare at their backs.

“You might as well just go with it,” Marcus said.

I glanced at him.

“She’ll tell you when she’s ready, and if you nag her, she’ll drag it out.” He smiled faintly. “She can be obstinate that way.”

Great.

* * *

“It sounds like your entire life has been focused on this clinic.” Christal eyed me over her wine glass, an amused smile on her lips.

Didi took the butter knife she’d been using and pretended to stab herself in the throat. “Don’t get him started, baby.” She made a face at her girlfriend. “You know better. I warned you. You’re not around him as much as I am, but I warned you.”

Christal lifted a hand. “Hey, I’m working crazy hours. Besides, I think it’s admirable.”

“I’m not doing it for praise,” I said after a few seconds. I knew she didn’t mean it that way, but I always felt the need to explain myself. “I’m doing it because it needs to be done. Too many addicts fall through the cracks, and I wanted to help whoever I can.”

“Dash.” Didi reached over from where she was sitting. “You couldn’t have helped.”

Shaking my head, I kept my attention on the food overfilling my plate. “It’s not about her – that. Not anymore. Look, let’s change the subject, okay?”

“Oh…oh, my.” She clutched the table, pretending like she’d fallen from the chair, and she got the smile she’d been aiming for. “I feel faint…”

“You’re such a dramatic soul, Didi.” Sondra laughed into her wineglass. “You should have pursued acting.”

“Heaven forbid.” Didi made a face. Reaching for her own glass, she lifted it. “A toast. To friends, to the future, to good things.”

“I think it’s time we tell him, Didi,” Sondra said as soon as we’d finished the toast.

“Sondra!”

Lowering my glass, I looked from the senator to Didi, my gaze narrowing. “Tell me what?”

Didi made a face. “Oh, fine.” She waved a hand. “Sondra called me two days ago to get your number. She had it programmed into her phone, but she had to get a new one, and your number didn’t get transferred over for some reason. Anyway, I made her tell me why.”

She smiled over at Sondra, who was smiling as well.

The senator continued the story, “Once I told her, she asked if I’d like to join you for dinner and give you the news then. She wanted to be there.”

I shot Didi a look. She shrugged at me. “I know how much this means to you.”

“What, exactly, are we talking about?”

“Your clinic is all cleared and squared away.” Sondra gave me a brilliant smile. “You’re good to go.”

“It’s…” I gripped the table hard, not wanting to dare to believe what I was hearing. Years of work. Done. “Are you serious?”

“Quite.” Sondra had that ‘cat ate the canary’ look about her.

“Shit. Son of a bitch. Hell.” Then I scowled. “Sorry, Senator.”

She broke out into a laugh. “Please. I say worse all the time. Those idiots in Washington would drive a saint to swear. And I’m far from a saint.” She took a sip of her wine and reached for her fork. “Let’s eat, and we’ll talk. I’m sure you’re curious.”

“There’s not much to talk about. All we needed to do was clear away the red tape. Once we did that, it’s pretty much done.”

“Well…” She cleared her throat delicately.

“What?”

Sondra and Didi exchanged glances, and I started to wonder if I’d gotten my hopes up too soon.

“There are still a few things that need to be dealt with.”

“Like what?” Confused, I leaned back in the chair to meet her eyes, appetite gone.

“Eat your food, Dash. Goodness.” She rolled her eyes, good-natured merriment on her face. “We just need to discuss a few things about your hiring process to make sure you’ve got the right people on the inside.”

“What do you mean by that?” I demanded.

Didi huffed out a sigh. “Can’t we eat and discuss this later?”

“We can do both now,” I offered.

She eyed my plate.

Frowning at her, I grabbed the fork and shoved in a bite of food just so the senator would keep talking.

“Fine,” she said with a weary sigh. She began to speak, the political and legal jargon enough to make my head spin.

“As you can see, you’re so close to this. You need some outside people to help finish filling some of these positions. You need an advisor to help you when it comes to developing the board. You can see that, right?” She beamed at me.

“Somebody from outside,” I said slowly. “No. Actually, I don’t see.” I tossed the wine back like it was whiskey, wished it was, then reminded myself I’d stopped letting myself have any sort of crutch when it came to dealing with the shit life threw at me. Not that I’d ever really needed them, but…

Focus. “Senator, I appreciate all the help you’ve given me–”

“Then please,” she said, interrupting with polite firmness. “Continue to allow me to give it. You need some eyes on the project that aren’t so...invested. You’ll need those as you continue, once the clinic is open.”

I had a hundred things I could say to that. A thousand.

But Didi laid a hand on mine. “Dash. She’s right. You need somebody there who doesn’t bleed for the place. Emotion is fine. But you need objectivity too.”

They were right.

“Dammit.”