Chapter 28

Istood outside my car, waiting to meet Sloane. It had me insanely nervous. I couldn't remember the last time I had been this jittery. My palms were sweating and there was a weird feeling in my gut.

I couldn't believe I was about to meet my daughter for the first time. I wouldn't have had the courage to do this if it wasn't for Spencer talking me through it.

Last night, I had called him, needing to vent to someone in the wake of the bombshell revelation that had rocked my world. When I told him what I had learned, he'd been just as shocked as I had been.

But after talking it out with him, things seemed to make more sense. I understood why Isadora had been so pissed at me and why her father had asked me to leave all those years ago.

I doubted Isadora knew what had happened back then. As far as she knew, my departure had been all my decision. I looked like a complete asshole. In my defense, as far as I knew, I was only leaving Isadora behind.

If I had known we were having a child, things would have been different. I would have stayed in touch at the very least. It was impossible to know exactly how I would have responded back then, but I wanted to think I would have tried to be a father. She never gave me a chance to do the right thing.

I wasn't ready to talk to Isadora about that situation just yet. She had taken something from me that I could never get back. Eventually, we would talk and hash out all the anger and all the blame. Right then, I was too pissed at her to have any kind of constructive conversation. The wound she caused me wouldn't get better overnight.

I had no idea if my daughter hated me. All these years, she must have thought I abandoned her. Or maybe she thought I was dead. I never got into the details with Isadora. I had been too stunned to ask questions. She told me she would give Sloane my number and that was that.

I wanted to meet my daughter, to begin the process of forging a relationship with her that had been denied to us for so many years. Last night, I waited for her to reach out to me, but she never did. I started to wonder if Isadora had given her my number after all.

When I woke up this morning, there was a text from her. With a courage I couldn't imagine, she had opened the door and invited me into her life. As soon as I saw it, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and responded.

We chatted all morning. It was still so surreal. I had a daughter—and a teenager at that. From what I had gathered from our text conversation, she was a smart kid with a curious personality.

She was the one to ask to meet me in person. I worried it was too soon, but I wouldn't deny her after missing out on so many years. If anything, I was just as eager to get to know her. No way would I miss my chance.

I waited outside the building, not wanting to go to the door, which was funny since I had been trying to get in Isadora's home for a week. But I wasn't ready to see her. My focus was on my daughter. The complicated mess of my love life had to take a backseat until I could wrap my head around fatherhood.

Glancing at my watch again, I wondered if Sloane had changed her mind. She was certainly entitled to do so. I wasn't going to push her. If it was too much, it was too much. I was an adult and I was freaking out.

When Sloane finally emerged from the building, my breath caught in my chest at the sight of her. She was the perfect mixture of Isadora and me. She was tall and beautiful. Her hair was a little darker than mine and longer than Isadora's.

As she approached, I extended my hand, my heart pounding with nerves and anticipation. Most men met their daughters fresh out of the oven, when they were still drooling and easily impressed by rattles and jingling car keys. My daughter was a young woman, damn near old enough to drive. She would be much more difficult to impress.

"Hi, I'm Graham," I said, feeling lame. My voice was steady, despite the emotions swirling within me, but it wasn't the most interesting opening line.

I had debated how to introduce myself. Asking her to call me dad seemed a little too demanding. She already knew my name, but I felt the need to introduce myself anyway. Offering her my hand to shake felt a little formal, but it was way too soon for a hug. I was still a stranger to her.

Sloane glanced at my hand, hesitated, and then took it. Her eyes flickered up to mine as we shook. "Sloane," she said, her expression giving nothing away.

Why was this teenage girl so intimidating? I had billionaire clients who controlled whole countries, and none of them made me as nervous as Sloane. Not even close.

"It's so good to meet you," I said, the words rushing from my mouth. If I couldn't be composed or charming, I could at least be honest with her about my jumbled-up feelings. "I'm sorry if I'm a little out of it. I'm just so excited to meet you in person. I just found out about you, and we have so much to catch up on. I'd love to hear about your life."

She nodded. "I'd like that."

I opened the passenger door of my Range Rover. It seemed like a safer choice than my sports car. She was precious cargo.

And I didn't want a driver for this reunion. It would make the situation even more awkward. She was already meeting one stranger today. I didn't need to add another one to the mix.

I settled into the driver's seat and glanced over at her. "Buckle up."

She tugged at the seatbelt already across her chest. "I am."

I chuckled and shrugged. "I know. I just wanted to say something like a dad."

She stared straight ahead but a little smile crept onto her face. "Not a bad start."

My expression remained neutral, but inside, I was singing with joy. My first impression hadn't been a total disaster. The air was still thick with tension, but she didn't seem to hate me. That was step one in connecting with her.

"So, where would you like to go?" I asked, my voice casual as I pulled onto the road.

Sloane seemed to think about it for a moment. "Just to the park, maybe?" she suggested, her voice barely above a whisper.

I hated that she was so uncomfortable. "Would you like to get something to eat on the way?" I asked. "I could use a coffee."

"Sure, sounds good."

I swung by a local café. I got a boring normal coffee and some muffins to share. She ordered a Frappuccino. I had no idea if it was allowed or not, but today wasn't about rules. Besides, I was her parent too, as weird as it was. Today, with me, she was allowed to have a damn frap. What was Isadora going to do, not call me for another fourteen years?

With a sack of muffins and drinks in hand, we continued on our way to Central Park. I was rarely on the east side and relied on GPS to get us there. Getting lost with my daughter on day one would make me feel like a failure.

Becoming a parent was already changing me. Suddenly, there was this little human beside me, and her opinion meant everything to me. I had to set a good example for her, even though she was no longer a baby.

With the help of technology, I found a place to park and together we walked to the East Meadow and sat down on the grass. She was fidgeting with her cup, showing her nervousness. I didn't blame her. For the first time in my life, I was wondering if I was sitting weird.

Was my back too straight? Not straight enough? Was she embarrassed to be seen with me?

"So, I know we have a lot of ground to cover here," I said, choosing to just dive right in. "I've only worked with your mom a little while and she hasn't said much."

Sloane's lips twisted into a frown. "Of course not. She wouldn't want to tell my father about me."

I didn't want to get into a thing where it was us against Isadora. That wasn't helpful for anyone.

"What grade are you in?" I asked, my voice gentle as I tried to steer the conversation toward safer territory.

"Ninth grade."

I nodded. "A freshman. I think your mom said you went to Dalton, right?"

"Yes, go Tigers," she said sarcastically.

"You joke, but you're on the swim team, right?"

She nodded. "Yes, but no one has pep rallies for the swim team. Forgive me for not bursting with school spirit."

"I used to swim," I told her.

That got her attention and she sat up. "Really?"

"Yep," I said. "I wasn't too bad, either."

Her eyes lit with a spark of interest, finally finding something we had in common. "What was your event?"

"I was a butterfly swimmer," I replied with a chuckle. "Not the easiest stroke, but I loved the challenge of it."

Sloane's eyes widened. "Butterfly? That's awesome. It's a tough one."

I laughed, thinking back to those years. "I still hold the record at my old high school for the fifty-meter butterfly." A nostalgic smile touched my lips. "How about you? What's your event?"

She shrugged. "Hundred-meter freestyle. I just had the best time at the meet yesterday. Although that feels like ten years ago."

"I know, right?" I said. "It's a lot to take in. For what it's worth, I think we're both doing great."

My daughter looked up at me and smiled. In that moment, I knew I would do anything to take care of her and keep her safe. She was my flesh and blood.

We spent the next hour talking about swimming, sharing stories and experiences. Slowly but surely, the awkwardness between us dissipated. As we sat on the grass of Central Park, cocooned from the hustle and bustle of the city, it felt like we were in our own little world.

"How did you and my mom meet?" she asked after a lull in the conversation.

"My dad worked for her dad," I replied. "My family was very different than your mother's. I guess you could say I was the downtown boy, and she was the uptown girl. She was wealthy and my parents barely got by."

"But you're rich now," she said. "I looked you up."

I laughed, unable to argue with that. "Yeah, I started a business with my college buddies and it took off beyond our wildest dreams. It made all of us very comfortable."

"That's cool," she said, nodding. "I think that's better than just being born rich like my mom."

"Your mom is very smart and very good at her job," I said, feeling a little defensive of her.

"What about your parents?" she asked.

"My father was a tough man, closed off and distant," I told her. "I vowed never to be like him with my own children. My mom is kind and stubborn. She is very independent. She always believed in me, even when I doubted myself. I'm sure you'll meet her at some point, if you want to. You'll like her."

"Do they live in New York?"

"My mom lives in Midtown in an apartment," I said, smiling. "My dad passed away when I was in college. He actually died around the same time your grandmother did. Your mom's mother."

"I'd like to meet her," she said. "Your mom. My other grandma."

The thought of introducing my daughter to the woman who had shaped me into the man I had become was exciting and terrifying. "She's going to love you."

"Does she know about me?"

"Not yet." I laughed. "I've known less than twenty-four hours. I'm still trying to get my head around it."

"Did you ever suspect that you were my father?" she asked.

"I had zero idea you existed," I answered honestly. "When your mom came to work for us, she mentioned she had a daughter, but I didn't know how old. That morning you guys were on a video chat was the first time I realized you weren't in elementary school. And yesterday, at your swim meet, I happened to be sitting at a stoplight and I saw you and your mother. I'll admit, there was a tiny inkling, but I had no reason to suspect anything. If I had known?—"

She held up her hand to stop me. "It's fine. I know."

"It's not fine," I said. "But it will be. I'm going to spend the rest of my life making things right with us."

We talked a bit more before we got up and started to walk through the park. We stopped at a hot dog vendor and bought two dogs. She got hers with mustard just like I did.

Sitting on a bench, we ate in silence for a moment. I glanced over at Sloane, studying her profile as she chewed thoughtfully. I still couldn't get my head around the idea she was my kid, but I could see so much of myself in her.

"I can't believe this is happening," she finally said, breaking the silence.

"Me neither," I admitted. "But I'm glad it is. I admit I don't know you that well, but you're a cool kid. I like talking to you."

"Thanks," she said shyly. "I like talking to you too."

Once we were done with our dogs, Sloane sighed and said she should probably get home. Our time together was over too soon, but this was just the beginning. I would see her again. There was so much I wanted to know about her.

As we pulled up outside her apartment building, her demeanor shifted. She was angry. I understood it, but it wasn't going to solve anything. "Go easy on your mother," I urged. "This is uncharted territory for all of us. She's trying her best."

"She should've told me," she angrily retorted. "I wondered about you my entire life."

I nodded. "I'm sorry for that, but I will be here for you, no matter what, for the rest of my life. I promise to take care of you, give you whatever you need, even if it's just someone to talk to. If you're up for it, I would like to hang out again."

"I have a meet on Tuesday," she said. "You should come."

I grinned but then quickly reined in my excitement so she didn't regret inviting me. "I'll be there."

"Cool." She opened the door.

"Do you want me to walk you up?"

"No. I'm good. Thanks for today. It was nice."

With a final awkward hug, she got out. I watched her go inside and let out the breath I'd been holding since I learned I had a daughter.

I had a daughter.

My mom was going to lose her shit when she found out.