Page 57 of Fourteen of a Kind

“Tell Mom, not today. I’m way too tired.”

“Okay. She thought it would be fun to look at baby things. She’s so excited, Lily.”

“You were always good about the guilt trips.” Lily sighed. “Tell her I’ll be over in thirty minutes.”

“Okay. Ella, do you want to come with us?”

“Thanks, Rory, but maybe next time. I have some things to do. I’ll let you go get ready.” I reached over and hugged Lily.

“I’ll talk to you later, cousin,” she said.

I went home and into my office. Opening my laptop, I searched for Dr. Malone, Surgical Oncologist. A link to an article popped up, so I clicked it.

Beloved Oncology Surgeon dies of a massive heart attack at 43.

Dr. Cane Malone, an oncology surgeon at Cedars-Sinai in Los Angeles, died of a massive heart attack. He was just forty-three years old. He was found in his bedroom by his thirteen-year-old son, who called 911. Dr. Malone lived in the Hollywood Hills and was beloved by his patients. He was a great surgeon and will be dearly missed.

I sighed, leaning back in my chair, pondering why Graham didn’t tell me he was originally from California. I did some more digging and found another article.

Malone Family In Tragic Car Accident.

Dr. Cane Malone and his family were heading to San Francisco when a car struck them head-on. His wife, Colette, was killed in the accident. Dr. Malone and his son were rushed to Cedars-Sinai with serious injuries. The driver of the other car was killed, and results later showed that he was highly intoxicated.

I closed my laptop and walked over to my dad’s house.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He smiled. “I take it Graham left?”

“Yeah. He had things to do. Can we talk?”

“Of course. Let’s go sit on the patio. What’s going on?” he asked as we sat in the loungers.

“Graham is from California. He lived in the Hollywood Hills until he was thirteen.”

“Okay?”

“When I asked him if he always lived in New York, he said yes. He just told me this morning that his dad was an oncologist, but he was a surgical oncologist. He left out the surgeon part.”

“I don’t understand, Ella.”

“He lied to me, Dad. He lied about growing up in New York. I did some research and found an article about his father’s death and then another one about the accident they were in when Graham was six. A drunk driver hit them, and his mother was killed.”

“That’s terrible.” He shook his head.

“Why would he lie to me, Dad?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. People hide things for a reason. He did lie to you, and that’s a red flag.” His brow arched. “Think about that very carefully. Maybe he isn’t the guy you thought he was.”

“Maybe.” I looked down. “I sure know how to pick them.”

“Come here.” He reached over and hooked his arm around me.

“I really like him, Dad.”

“Then you know what to do. Talk to him and find out the truth. Ask him why he lied. You know I’ve always taught you that communication is the key.”

“Really, Dad? I believe I’ve taught you that over the years.” I smirked.

He let out a long sigh.

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