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“Actually I guessed something was wrong,” Graham said with a sigh. “Last week when your father came in to tell me you went to work for Upstart, he finally told me the truth. Shocked me to realize if he weren’t facing what he’s facing, I wouldn’t be here in New Orleans or at least not at Ullo. And I would never have met you.”
Tess swallowed at a different emotion burgeoning within the grief swelling within her gut. The only reason she and Graham had happened in the first place was because her father had gotten sick. Bittersweet emotion coasted on crippling regret.
“What do you want me to say?” she said, stopping, realizing she’d rather walk all the way home than go back to that dining room table and her mother’s tears. She just couldn’t do it. She wasn’t strong enough. Not yet.
“Nothing,” he said, his voice weary. “I’m just worried about you.”
His words hit her between the eyes. Graham cared. She already knew this, even if his initial actions after they’d slept together proved differently. But in the light of the afternoon, his slight felt very, very small compared to learning her father was dying.
“What are you doing right now?” she asked.
“I’m driving back from Monique’s. Emily spent the night with me last night. Headed toward the grocery.”
“What area? What street?”
“Uh, West Esplanade and Transcontinental.” He sounded confused.
So was she. “Can you come get me?”
A surprised pause. “Where are you?”
“On the corner of Old Metairie and Sycamore,” she said wondering what in the hell she was doing asking him to come get her. In her mind, hell, in everyone’s mind, Graham was the enemy. She was supposed to hate him for what he’d done, not ask him to rescue her from the tidal wave of grief threatening to wash her away.
“I’m on my way,” he said.
Clicking the phone off, Tess sank down on the curb and set her head against her knees. Her body ached to cry, to release all the bitterness she’d held within. She needed something. Maybe a cocktail. Or maybe she needed therapy. Could a shrink help her figure out her life? Inside, Tess felt like a ripped sail on a forgotten boat, fluttering in the gale with no hope of repair.
In the past her family had always reeled her in and stitched her up, assuring her all would be right again. But her father couldn’t fix this. Nor could her mother or brothers. No one could.
A car turned onto the street, slowing down. But it was a red convertible Mercedes with a thin blonde at the wheel. The oversized sunglasses blocked the woman’s eyes, but somehow Tess knew she looked concerned.
Tess raised her hand and waved.
The woman waved back and sped off.
And some people thought New Orleanians weren’t friendly. Two strangers in the space of twenty minutes checking on her.
Eight minutes later Graham pulled up, rolling down the window. “Tess?”
She lifted her head and suppressed the sob rising within her. Why Graham? Why the man who’d stolen her dream? Why was he the one she wanted on the day she found out her daddy was dying?
Because he felt like someone to watch over her as much as he felt like someone who could move her forward. Any other lifetime, and Graham Naquin would be the perfect man.
But not in this life. Graham could never be her Mr. Right because he’d already stepped into the shoes of Mr. Wrong.
“Hey,” she said, reaching for the door. Climbing inside the cool exterior, she tried not to give in to the tears, but her heart didn’t get the memo her brain sent out.
“Sorry, sorry,” she choked on the sobs, wrapping her arms around herself, rocking slightly. “I don’t know why—”
His hand on her back felt so good and it only made her cry harder. The car moved, but only a swerve to the curb before he put it in Park.
“Tess,” he said, his voice soothing like a velvet night skimming over her.
“I can’t stop. I can’t—”
“Hey,” he said, lifting his hand to push her hair back. “Just get it out. Just let it all out, Tess.”
So she did. For a good five minutes she sobbed against the dashboard of the car her father had brought her onetime lover and present rival. The entire time she cried, Graham rubbed her back, comforting her.
