Those Three Words: A Single Dad, Billionaire Boss Romance(68)

I hang my head because she’s right. There’s no point in groveling, telling her how much I didn’t want to do business with him and that I tried to get out of it. Because the reality is, he didn’t put a gun to my head; he didn’t threaten me. He gave me the dollar amount I asked for and I was willing to throw away my principles for it.

“Have a good night, Margot.”

I stand and leave her room, my heart feeling things I haven’t felt since I lost my wife.

I hate that I hurt Margot. It’s a terrible feeling. But even more, I hate that I’ve disappointed her because she’s right; I am a better man than that… or at least I’ve convinced myself I am.





23





MARGOT





I toss and turn for most of the night, guilt pulling at me for the way I reacted last night.

I feel like I was hit by a bus and dragged for a mile. The sun has just started to peek over the horizon. I grab my phone and check the time. It’s 5:04 a.m. Way too early to get up.

I roll over and stare at the ceiling, attempting to assess my feelings. There really isn’t much assessing that has to be done. I’m falling in love with Graham Hayes and it’s right in front of my face.

There’s still so much we don’t know about each other, but I know in time we’ll share and learn.

Graham doesn’t know my past. He doesn’t know who Warren Dorsey is to me and honestly, the thought that I’d have to even explain it to him never crossed my mind. It should have. They’re both billionaire businessmen in Chicago who run in the same circles, but I just didn’t put two and two together.

I know I owe him an explanation and I’ll give it to him fully. I’ll be honest and tell him about how Warren is technically my biological father, but he’s played zero role in my life.

I can’t shake the nagging feeling that Graham chose to do business with him, knowing all the other unethical and gross rumors that circulate about him. I thought Graham was different than the others, truly. The bottom line is, maybe I built him up in my head based on what I wanted him to be.

He has a good heart, I know, but maybe the reality is once you reach a certain level of wealth, even principles become too expensive and you toss them out for a healthier margin and bottom line.

“Ugh.” I sit up and decide that it’s useless to try and go back to sleep. I reach for the journal I keep in my bedside table and walk to the window in the adjoining sitting room to watch the sun rise. I curl my legs against my chest, wrapping my arms around my knees.

If Graham doesn’t see an issue with continuing business with Warren, then I think I’ll have my answer—about everything.

Lately, I’ve been writing in my journal as if I’m talking to my mom. I miss her wisdom. She wasn’t judgmental. I just remember her telling me consistently that she wanted me to be happy in life and content with who I was.

“There’s no point in pretending, Margot. The only person you’re fooling is yourself. If you can’t be happy with who you are as a person at night when your head hits the pillow, only you can change that.”

She had been holding my chubby little sixth-grade cheeks in her hands when she said that to me. I’d been crying to her about how all my friends wanted to join the Pompettes, our middle school dance team, but I wanted to join band. I ended up doing what my friends wanted and was disappointed. I hated that I was pretending to not be a “band geek” when all I thought about was music.

“But I want my friends to like me,” I had cried to her.

“Sweetheart, there’s no point in others liking you if you don’t like yourself.”

She poked my nose and then kissed it softly, reminding me that no matter what I chose to do in life, she’d still love and support me. She also reminded me it wasn’t a failure to join the dance team and hate it; we have to try different things in life to find out what we love and sometimes, it’s an uncomfortable choice that lends the best reward.

I glance down at my wrist. I’m still wearing the gold bracelet Graham gave me last night. I run my finger over the delicate gold chain and the etching on the small plate.

I think about the offer from La Crème and my chest tightens. I close my eyes and clutch my journal to my chest, inhaling deeply and slowly letting it go. I try to clear my head, praying that an answer will just pop in and reveal to me what the best decision is, like my brain is a magic eight ball.

In truth, I’m going to have to put my big girl panties on and figure it out myself. Even if my mom were still here, she’d never tell me what to do—what the best decision is. She’d tell me to search my heart.

It’s just after seven a.m., and I’ve been sitting in this chair for two hours now, attempting to figure out my life and very much avoiding running into Graham. I’m sure he’s gone to the office by now, so I stand, stretching a few times before heading into the hall to wake up Eleanor.

As much as I want to avoid Graham, I will do the right thing and speak to him tonight, explaining my reaction last night and praying that he’ll see the light and walk away from Warren Dorsey.

“Chocolate chip or blueberry?”

“Blueberry!” Eleanor shouts, her arms over her head like it’s the most exciting decision of her life.

I place two blueberry pancakes on her plate along with some strawberries.