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Josh walked out wearing a pair of dark jeans and a weirdly patterned shirt with a hot pink tab collar. Tall, lanky with a soul patch on his chin, Graham’s former best friend had a wicked sense of humor, a badass restored Harley, and a shitty sense of loyalty to a friendship started back at Jesuit. He’d been too weak to resist Monique… probably still was.
“Hey, Monique, we gotta jet,” he called, not even meeting Graham’s gaze.
Irritation flashed in Monique’s eyes. “We’ll go when I’m ready, Josh.”
Emily knocked against the window, pressing her button nose against the glass smudging it. Graham smiled and nodded, dangling the keys.
“We’re going to head out, Monique. Text me when you’re through with your fundraiser and I’ll bring Emily back. I’m guessing it won’t be too late since it’s a school night?” Graham started around the front of the car.
“I’m not finished talking about this, Graham,” Monique said, smoothing the lines of a dress that was too short, but still looked incredible on her. Monique’s beauty had never been in question. Even as slight as the woman was, her essence screamed “lush” and “sensual.” It was her heart he questioned. As determined as she was to create an empire she could control, she had one fatal flaw—her ego. Often Monique valued her own worth above the truth. This inability to see the writing on the wall was the main reason Graham didn’t fight for Upstart. Well, that and the fact Monique and Josh had started sneaking around sleeping together.
“Well, I’m finished. Everything will work better if you shut down whatever you’re working up inside yourself about me running Frank Ullo. I’m not competing with you. I’m trying to take care of Emily.”
“You could have done that with another company. You could have done that from Houston.”
“But I didn’t want to,” he said, before sliding into the car. “Don’t forget to text me.”
Closing the door, he shut out the dissonance Monique created in his life, and instead focused his attention on the only reason he’d done Monique and Josh a favor tonight—the bouncing, wonderful Emily. “Ready to roll, squirt?”
“Can we go to the pet store and see the kitties?” she asked, ignoring his question.
Graham pulled away from the curb, unable to resist glancing at Monique who stared angrily after them. He wished he didn’t get satisfaction in needling her. He’d have to be very careful to keep the fragile peace between them for his daughter’s sake. Wouldn’t be easy because Monique wasn’t agreeable. Once he’d teased her, calling her his little general, but now that moniker wasn’t teasing. It was the truth.
“Fasten your seatbelt, Em,” he said, slowing and pulling to the curb.
“I want a kitty, but mommy says ‘absolutely no.’” Emily clicked her belt into place, and though the child looked big enough for the seat, Graham made a mental note to check the laws regarding child safety and cars.
“Well, pets are a big commitment, Emily,” Graham said, pulling out and winding his way toward Veterans Avenue so he could take Emily to dinner and the arcade.
“I’m old enough. I can pour out its food, get it water, and take care of it when it’s scared.”
“What about poop? You think you can scoop out a litter box? What about the vet? Pets cost money.”
“I have some money. Grandy Pete gave me ten dollars last week for dusting his room and brushing Pumpkin, his big ol’ cat.”
Grandy Pete was Monique’s irascible grandfather. Graham couldn’t imagine the older man caring for a cat much less a little girl—the man had spent much of his life on the bayou, shucking oysters and shrimping. He now lived in an apartment behind a convent in the Lower Garden District, a place between Upstart headquarters and Monique’s digs in Metairie. Graham had helped him find the place and move in, something that had proven easy since the eighty-year-old man had exactly two trunks of clothing, a guitar, and a memory foam pillow. Colorful only halfway described Pete. “It will take more than ten dollars, Em. But we’ll talk to Mom about the possibility of a pet.”
“I can keep Muffin at your house,” she said, brown eyes peeping over the gray leather seat.
“Muffin? Oh, no. I see your game here, missy.” He laughed, deciding it felt good. The past few days had been tense, and he needed the lightness his daughter gave him. “And sit back in your seat.”
“Please,” she wheedled, sinking back as instructed. “She can keep you company when I’m not there.”
“I don’t need company.” At least not that of a cat.
“Yeah, you do. You need a kitty.”
“Wrong.”
Emily crossed her arms and gave him a look that was all her mother. “I knew you’d say no. Just like Mommy.”
Something inside him moved. He wished it hadn’t. He wished he didn’t have such guilt where Emily was concerned, but he’d missed so much in moving to Houston and going to work for NASA. At the time it had felt best for all concerned—best for him, certainly—but he’d left the raising of his daughter to Monique, being Daddy only in the summers and on a rare holiday. “How about a truce?”
“What’s that?”
“It means you walk my way, and I’ll walk yours. We’ll meet in the middle.”
Emily made a face. “We’re in the car.”
