Kissed and Missed (Daddy Issues #2)

Chapter 3

3

JULIAN

M y lungs are on fire, and every breath is like throwing wood on the flames.

I don’t stop, though I know I could. It makes me defiant, as if I’m getting one-up on my own body. Today is different. It’s not my body that’s the challenge, or my business, or whoever has decided to do battle with me that week, it’s her , and Honor Vogel takes my breath away in a different manner altogether.

It’s that thought which prompts my pace to slow, as my eyes drift to the smartwatch on my wrist, checking . Again .

Disappointed. Again.

I can’t say I’m surprised, but the ache radiating outward from the center of my chest flairs painfully. The ache that’s been present since she left, and so persistent I called a doctor, convinced there had to be a physical explanation. There wasn’t. I’m just a deluded old fool who wants a woman he can’t have, for reasons that not even all the money in the world could fix.

The irony isn’t lost on me.

“Heading back?” Grey is my head of security and has been for over a decade. He’s more of a friend than an employee now, though admittedly one who makes a lot of money ensuring I’m not kidnapped and held for ransom.

Still panting, I let my head drop back, staring blindly at the palm tree hanging over the path where we stand, watching the leaves ripple in the breeze coming off the ocean. It’s February, though everyone on the boardwalk is dressed in shorts and T-shirts, dewy tumblers of iced coffee or soda in hand, their cheeks flushed from the heat.

“I’m a fucking mess,” I finally admit in a croak, turning to look at him. “I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Grey doesn’t look particularly surprised by the statement, nor does he need to ask the identity of “her.” The man simply avoids my gaze, staring out at the waves lapping gently against the pier only a few yards to our right. At last, when he seems to accept I’m not going to let the subject drop, Grey turns to meet my eye, grave and unsmiling. “When’s the last time Riley called you for anything other than a check, Julian? That kid is determined to hate you, and you still keep writing ’em.”

“She’s my daughter,” I snap, because what the hell does he expect me to do? Disinherit her? Disregard her feelings and go after the woman she dated for two fucking years ? Riley was the reason I worked so fucking hard to build this empire in the first place. Having enough was never acceptable, not for my kid. I wanted her to have everything .

It wasn’t until too late that I realized everything was too much.

Now, my daughter is an adult and not a terribly capable one. Her mother, my ex-wife, is the closest I’ve come to encountering an actual succubus and raised Riley to follow in her footsteps. The two are close, united in distaste for me, and I have no idea how to break through that to connect with my kid.

Grey scoffs. “I’m just saying, I spent less than half an hour in a car with Honor, and I can tell you that woman is going to end up with a ring on her finger so fast it will make your head spin. Just because your kid was an idiot, doesn’t mean the next one will be. So, if you have feelings for her, you’d better get off the goddamn fence and do something about it.”

“You’re not a parent,” I spit, hating myself for the urge to vault off the goddamn fence and run toward Honor as fast as I can. “Even if Riley and I aren’t on good terms right now, I can’t just…” My words trail away, and I grit my teeth as I remember, for about the dozenth time today alone, the expression on Honor’s face just after I kissed her.

It was with a deep grief that I realized I’d gone a lifetime without feeling so connected to another human being or being looked at the way she did that day.

Fuck me .

I tried to let her go, tried to ignore the pull, but it never let up. The moment she disappeared into the airport, I wanted to run after her, pull her into my arms and never let her go again. Grey is right. Honor is incredible; kind and intelligent, compassionate and funny. Riley might be too young to appreciate how rare it is to find someone like that, but I’m not. It was only a few days after she left that I broke and spent two hours composing a single, six-word text message.

I could just be her friend. Friends was better than nothing.

Except, before I knew it, I was living for those messages and calls. I found myself pushing off work, turning down invitations I shouldn’t, all for those slivers of genuine connection. I’ve known for a while that this grand, successful life doesn’t make me happy, but it’s become so much more apparent since Honor.

And now, because I got greedy, I’ve lost her.

Grey doesn’t offer further commentary on the situation as we turn back toward the house, jogging side by side through the city, then out into the quiet, high-end neighborhoods where my home is located. I’m operating on autopilot, barely aware of where I’m going as I run through that last, brief conversation I had with Honor two days ago.

It was always in the back of my mind that perhaps she was playing with me, luring me closer in the hopes of securing some kind of financial gain. God knows it wouldn’t be the first time. Unfortunately for me, her silence over the last few days has served as confirmation that Honor is exactly the kind of person I thought she was.

If she was in it for the money, she wouldn’t be ignoring me. Which means that, by some horrible twist of fate, I managed to find exactly what I always wanted but never really hoped to find—a woman who wants me for who I am, not what I can give her—in the completely wrong place.

Grey heads off around the house in the direction of the security office when we make it back to the property, and I traipse inside, still barely conscious of my surroundings. I’m due at the office for a board meeting in an hour, but instead of heading for the shower, I sit down at the kitchen counter and pull out my phone, staring down at my last texts to Honor.

I’m willing to risk it.

Are you okay?

I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. Can we please talk?

Hey, just checking in. Is everything okay?

Honor, I’m sorry.

It reads as a pathetic string of attempts to maintain a connection with a woman who is clearly trying to move on with her life. It’s fucking embarrassing that I can’t get past this. It’s been almost two months since she left, and I’ve only grown more obsessed, more desperate for her.

A part of me thought that she would give in and accept the job I offered her, running The Ballard Fund. I’ve been purposely keeping the position vacant for weeks, hoping that the right offer would tempt her away from her life on the East Coast.

I take a long swig from my water bottle, keeping my eyes on my phone as if this is the moment Honor is going to break her silence, and I won’t have to consider moving on anymore.

God forbid.

Just as I go to set it aside, however, a name pops up on the screen that has my heart sinking for an entirely different reason. Pushing one hand through my hair, I force myself to accept it, setting the phone on the counter as my daughter’s voice, high with hysterical indignation, fills the room.

“Dad,” Riley cries. “Did you seriously turn off my credit card?”

Jesus, not today. This isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation, but I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t still sting. Now, while nursing a bruised heart and a healthy dose of regret, my daughter is doing the emotional equivalent of kicking me while I’m down.

“I didn’t turn off your credit card, Riley. I put a limit on it,” I tell her, endeavoring not to allow my feelings for Honor to bleed into this interaction. “It’s only a week into the month, are you telling me you’ve already maxed it out?” How the hell did she spend thirty thousand dollars in seven days? Especially when she knows full well I won’t pay the bill early.

A frustrated noise comes in response. “Are you seriously giving me grief for this right now? You know I’ve been going through some stuff. Could you please just, like, pay it ? This is ridiculous. You could probably drop thirty grand on the street and you wouldn’t even notice.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, hurt bleeding into resentment despite my best efforts. “Riley, this is the first time you’ve contacted me in over a month, and it’s only because you’ve maxed out your credit card.”

“Do you blame me? Dad, you were such a dick about the whole thing with Honor.” My heart surges into my throat at the sound of her name. “We weren’t even that serious, just because she thought we were?—”

“Enough.” My ears are ringing, and for the first time, it’s really hitting me that I don’t know this person. My only kid is a stranger to me, and continuing to finance her extravagant lifestyle isn’t going to fix the problem. “If the credit card is such an issue, I’ll just cancel it.”

Dead silence for a long moment, then, “Dad.” There’s a note of poorly concealed panic in Riley’s voice. “I’m sorry, okay? I promise I’ll do better next month. I’ve just been going through?—”

“Some stuff. Yeah,” I repeat, staring out at the sunny beach beyond the house, and the place where I did something I once thought selfish. “This stuff has been going on for years, Riley. I’ve tried to be there for you, to support you, but all you ever want from me is more money. How do you think that feels?”

A hysterical little shriek follows this. “So, what?” she demands, “you’re just going to cut me off or something?”

It’s surprising how easily the answer to this question comes. I’m not a man who makes impulsive decisions, and when I do, they’re often second-guessed. This, however… Christ. For the first time, I’m positive I’m doing the best thing for Riley, even if she hates me more for it. “Yes,” I tell her, my voice strained. “You’re twenty-four, and I think it’s time you stand on your own two feet. If you need me, I’ll always be there. Always. I know it’s never been simple between us, but you’re my kid, and I love you. That isn’t going to change.”

Riley sobs. “You’re being so controlling! I’m sorry, okay? I swear I’ll do better with the card and call you back and everything!”

“And I want a relationship with my daughter that isn’t dependent on her credit card limit,” I reply, my chest hollow, and my mouth dry. “I’m a human being, Riley, not your personal bank account. Human beings also have limits, and I just hit mine.”