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“Bye, pumpkin,” he said before pressing the end button. Tossing the phone on the counter, he sighed and wiped a hand over his face. He had to get his shit together. That’s what a good father did.
He had to be there physically for Emily, picking her up from after school care, spending weekends proving he wasn’t the same as his old man. He wouldn’t chase sparkly things or shirk his duty to his child. Emily was the reason Graham couldn’t bow out of Ullo.
It had been so long since he’d felt confident about who he was. He’d gotten a taste of it that night exactly a month ago when he’d met Tess. That night, he’d been the man he’d once been—the man who had not only dreamed but made things happen. The man who hadn’t failed with Monique, who had never been laid off, who had never paid a bill late, who had never taken medicine to pull himself out of depression. That magical night had given him a piece of himself back, cracking open the door to a new tomorrow.
But then he’d slammed it closed out of fear. Out of embarrassment of who he’d become. Yeah, it was a stupid reason to toss a chance for happiness with Tess away, but something inside him had balked about coming to her with so little to offer.
Panic had grabbed him by the throat. No matter how well he’d presented himself in his pressed suit and expensive shoes, buying drinks like he had a bankroll in his pocket, he’d known he’d been a facade of the man he’d once been.
He was broke.
And all he could think about was his father with frayed cuffs and a shitty-ass excuse for why he couldn’t afford to pay school fees. He’d looked in his bathroom mirror and seen the man who’d failed so often, who’d cared so little he’d rather take his life than get a job beneath him and show his sons how real success worked. The fear of turning into that man ate at him and convinced him he didn’t deserve someone like Tess. He had to make something of himself first. Then maybe he could call her, see if what they’d shared was more than something fleeting.
“You’re a moron,” he said to no one… because no one was there.
His words echoed in the apartment, and as he looked at the Chinese take-out box in his hand, anger washed over him. So he lived in shitty circumstances now, and he’d blown any chance he had with a woman who had made him feel the way he hadn’t felt in years—whole.
But it was a new day. A new beginning. He had a job, a challenge, and a daughter who needed him. No time for feeling sorry for himself.
He was Graham Naquin—overeducated, nearer to forty than thirty, and possessing all his teeth.
He was in it to win it.
The world was his oyster.
He would kick ass and take names.
Because he refused to be the man who’d raised him. He might have been down, but he wasn’t out. Graham Naquin was a fighter.
TESSSIPPEDTHElukewarm café au lait and studied Gigi who glowered like a jail warden.
“Draw unemployment,” she said, her red eyebrows drawn together.
“No. I don’t want unemployment. I’m getting another job.” Tess stared at her computer, trying to figure how best to position the experience she had. It was damn hard writing a resume with a single company as your only employer.
“Where?” Gigi pushed her tight red curls off her face and sucked on the straw of her iced tea. Gigi hated coffee but loved Cuppa Joe’s with its bright red couches and black lacquered tables. Soft ’80s rock flowed through the speakers and modern art displayed at irregular angles decked the walls. It had a cool, comfy vibe, so they met here as regularly for Wi-Fi and coffee as they did at Two-Legged Pete’s for drinks with more kick.
“Not sure. I love design work and haven’t been able to do as much of it for the past few years because I’ve been working with clients. Maybe I’ll freelance.”
Gigi snapped her fingers. “Didn’t your father say this dude started a Mardi Gras float company way back when?”
“No, Graham told me the company he interviewed for was something he’d done before… Wait, uh, maybe he did say he started a company, but I haven’t a clue which one. There are a lot of smaller ones.”
“Give me that,” Gigi said, tugging Tess’s laptop toward her. “Let’s see what we can find on him.”
Tess scooted her chair closer, wondering why she hadn’t already done that. She often used social media to scan the guys she dated, but Graham had said he wasn’t on Facebook or other social media.
Gigi typed away like a flame-tipped woodpecker on crack as Tess sipped her coffee and looked around at the world still turning even though hers had crashed that afternoon. How could people still laugh, still make jokes, still flirt across the room? Didn’t her sadness permeate their happy, shiny faces?
“Bingo!” Gigi crowed, sitting back with a smile. “You’re never going to believe this one.”
Tess tipped the computer so she could see the screen. “Holy crap. Upstart?”
“Yeah, that’s crazy, huh?”
Tess reeled with the news. Upstart, run by the effervescent Monique Dryden, had grown to become Frank Ullo’s staunchest competition… and Graham Naquin had been one of the founders?
Gigi started reading. “Monique Dryden started Upstart
