This wasn’t me. I always kept my emotions in check. But I hadn’t planned on Jessa screwing with my heart.
She did. And my son’s too. We were both in love and neither of us could face another day like this. I’d do anything to stop my son’s heart from aching, and mine too. These adult-sized feelings weren’t fair for a young boy to go through, hard enough for me.
I had to figure out a way to bring Jessa back. If she would even want me.
Eventually, numbed, I made my way to the West Games building. I used to wake up excited to be here, the pulse of the company practically in sync with mine. Not today—or lately if I was honest.
Marianne greeted me, the worry lines speaking volumes about her concern for me. “Sam wants to see you before the morning update.”
“Great,” I flatlined. Ever since the West Games Benefit, I’d been avoiding him, working from home.
“Do you need a coffee or anything?”
“Not coffee. And unfortunately, what I need nobody can help with.”
She quizzed me with her face as I walked away.
By the time Sam arrived, he caught me staring out the window. The view here differed from home, pointing east to catch the morning sun. Supposedly made for a more productive work space. Not for me today.
“Nice to see you in the office, Grif,” his smug voice grated on me.
“Well, I own the company. I can come and go as I please.”
“At least until you go public,” he laughed at his own joke, stepping closer. “What are you looking at?”
“The future. This IPO. I’m having a difficult time remembering why we’re going public in the first place.”
He snorted. “For the money, my friend, a shitload of it. From there we’ll expand across the world.”
“Doesn’t the company have enough money though, and me, too?” I side-eyed him.
He studied me back for a moment, squinting at me. “Okay. I know what you’re going through. We’ve been pushing toward this goal for weeks now. It’s only natural to have a crisis moment.” He poured a drink and walked it over to me. “Here, drink up.”
I took the glass from him and set it down.
“I remember your father talked about leaving a legacy behind,” he said.
“Wasn’t West Games enough of a one? We have one of the finest reputations in the world. The company made each of his sons rich. What more did he want?” I scoffed.
“In his final year before he passed away, he talked about going public nonstop. This was his dream.” He gestured wide with his arms.
“Hisdream. Right.”
“Taking the company public is the legacy you’ll leave your son,” he pointed out.
I snickered at the implication my son would care. “Theo’s almost ten. He collects comic books, video games, and plays hockey. CEO isn’t on his radar.”
“He might want it someday.” He looked at the time on his phone. “Okay. Enough of this. Put your doubts aside because the meeting starts in a few minutes. We’ll be going over the detailed prospectus the team has drafted. Just one more step toward your legacy.”
Before he reached my door, I called after him. “Don’t think for a minute that I’ve forgotten or forgiven you for what you said to Jessa.”
He stopped cold and faced me. “I was on medication that night, mixed with alcohol… Things were said that probably shouldn’t have been.”
Likely excuse.
“Tread lightly around me, Sam. Very lightly.”
His face reddened as he left.
