Page 82 of Big Daddy

I didn’t wanther driving tearfully and emotionally, so I told her to take the town car home and I took her car.

It was a good choice for her. But not a good one for me.

Her scent lives everywhere inside this vehicle and my heart can’t take it. Not right now. I drive through town, back toward the office, and have the VIP valet park me. Riding the elevator up, memories of just an hour ago flash through my mind.

I just had her in her new office, on her new desk. And now… she’s home and I’m here.

The elevator doors open, and I ignore the office full of people and beeline to the back. Once in my office, Kennedy comes in, not needing to knock since I left the door open. I never leave the door open but my preoccupations consume me so much that I break my routine.

“Back so soon?” Kennedy asks as she slips some folders onto my desk.

Normally I’d say, I don’t know,I’m here aren’t I, but today, I don’t have it in me. I meet her eyes. “My daughter is pregnant.”

Ken’s face twists with concern, her mouth opening and closing without words. “Are—you’re happy or…” she volleys her head side to side just slightly. “Not happy?”

“Happy,” I confirm, my eyes going to the framed photo of us on the desk. “Very happy.” And yet, my face reads disdain, but Kennedy knows me well enough to not ask.

“Well let me know if you need anything,” she offers, but on her way out, I stop her.

She knew the old me. She hasn’t met the man I’ve become and am actively working on. “Hey, Ken, thanks for everything, you know, all the time.”

Silence.

“What did you think of the office?” I ask her as I tip my head in the general direction of Winnie’s new office.

“Beautiful,” she says slowly. “You okay?”

I open my scotch drawer and pull out a glass and the bottle. “That’s Winnie’s office for her new business.” I pour a drink then take it, appreciative of the numbing burn. “She’s integrated with Parker & Pen in an effort to retain clients leaving marriages and starting businesses.”

Ken peeks out the cracked door then looks back at me. “You told me already. I saw her work, when she was working on that graduate project.” She nods knowingly. “Good stuff.”

“The best.”

Ken goes thoughtful for a moment and before she leaves she says, “This office could use more Winnies.”

The door closes, and I’m left knowing somehow exactly what she means. More Winnies would make the world a better place. To fuck up because you’re trying to love so many people, remain loyal to so many… I shake my head, angry at myself for being so angry with her.

From my pocket, my cell rings. Brielle’s name fills the screen but I don’t feel like talking, so I don’t accept the call. I can’thelp but look at the photo on my desk, much younger versions of ourselves, before my walls were completely up and stoniness took over.

Brielle was always such a rule follower, and a good girl in general. She tried hard in school, she kept her room clean—so clean that our housekeepers often joked that they got paid for doing very little, as Brielle often cleaned the home in her downtime. She was always so good, and I rode her so hard.

At the time, riding her hard, in my mind, equated to her having a better life. If I was tough on her, she would learn to work hard and be strong, both things she’d need to be to make it in this world. Without her mother, I thought she’d especially need to toughen up and learn that life is unfair and the only way to compensate is hard, hard work. Financial security. A fruitful career.

My office chair creaks as I tip forward, collecting the silver frame in my hands. Looking more closely, I see Brielle’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes. In fact, nothing about her body language or expression says “I love my dad” or “I love my life.” Her face is the depiction of endurance, withstanding, getting the fuck by. My stomach sinks as I replace the frame on my desk.

She didn’t need to be ridden hard and disciplined and micromanaged. She needed to be hugged. To be heard and loved. To have warm arms wrap her up and assuage her fears, calm her worries, soften the sharp pains of grief that intermittently stab anyone who has lost a loved one.

She needed a father.

And I wasn’t there, not in the way I should have been. My priorities were out of whack and when I look back on all of it, I can’t help but think that I should have been seeing Dr. Wilder back then.

I think about Brielle confiding in Winnie, and how I reacted as if she were trying to be manipulative and divisive. That she’dhand over a piece of huge information to one of the only people she’s ever loved under the guise of destroying her friend and myself.

Why would I ever think Brielle would intentionally do that?

Because I would do that. Because I have been, for many years, the type of man that does whatever he needs to achieve what he wants. I’m not even talking about the lawyer in me, either. The man I let myself become was a bully. Arrogant. Borderline spiteful.

Of course Brielle shared the news with Winnie. They’ve been best friends for years and who came between them? I did. I threatened the best relationship both of them have ever had. All she was trying to do was feel like she didn’t lose her friend. And Winnie, a woman who essentially raised herself due to tragedy in her youth, was merely doing the same. Hanging on, finding hope, wishing for peace with her best friend.

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