Page 212 of Manhattan Bossholes

“And this one is great for vlogging,” Chris added. “In case you want to get into more longform content.”

It sounded like they’d taken her out to buy her something to remember the team by. I’d heard from a lot of the employees that since working with drinks was their day job, celebrations or goodbyes never involved going to a bar.

My throat went dry as they drew closer. Cora looked amazing, as always, grinning at something Dot said. I was hit hard with a memory from high school, watching Cora come down the hall right after our breakup, looking perfectly put together while I still felt like I was sleepwalking through my days. Which was how I’d felt since our latest breakup, too.

I fumbled to get the door open. The last thing I wanted to do was draw her attention, embarrass myself, and spoil her good mood, so I threw myself through the door like I was diving for a forward pass.

Dad looked up as I rushed in. “Someone chasing you? Or were you just trying to avoid Cora?”

“Huh?” I started. “Wait, you knew she was here?”

“Of course I did. She came over and said hi a little while ago. Said she wanted to check up on how the renovations were going.”

Cora had come to say hi to my dad? My thoughts spiraled in a million different directions as I tried to figure out what that meant.

“She’s always been a sweet girl. The kind of gem a man with any sense wouldn’t allow to get away,” he added with a pointed look in my direction.

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, Dad. You’ve made your opinion clear.” And he had. Once he’d gotten over his apathy and hangover following the launch party, he’d had a lot to say about me ending my relationship with Cora, but I’d held firm. “I explained this. Love isn’t a good idea for me. It makes me too irrational.”

“Love’s supposed to make you irrational,” Dad shot back. “Who on earth wants to love rationally? There’s nothing wrong with having strong feelings for someone.”

“There’s something very wrong with it when it almost makes you start a fistfight at a public event.”

“Well, that’s not the fault of your feelings. It’s the fault of your self-control,” Dad said. He walked around the bar, looking me in the eye. “You’re not a kid anymore, Aiden. It’s well past time for you to get a grip on your impulses.”

I shook my head. “That’s just the way I am. I can’t change it any more than you could change the way you were to make things work with Mom.”

Dad’s eyebrow arched in confusion. “The way I was? What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re a workaholic.” I gestured around the half-renovated bar. “And Mom couldn’t deal with that. Even though you loved each other. It’s why your marriage didn’t last.”

Dad let out a heavy sigh as he leaned up against the bar top. “You’re not completely wrong, but you’re not completely right either. The problem in our marriage was that I was so determined to be a good provider that I lost sight of everything else. You know I grew up poor. We’ve talked about that.”

I nodded.

“My family lived paycheck to paycheck, and there was never enough to go around. I was the first one in the family to go to college, and I had to work multiple jobs and live on ramen to cover the costs even with a hefty need-based scholarship. When I married your mother, I vowed to myself that my family would never struggle like that, so I threw myself into work, making as much money as I possibly could in order to give you and your mom a good life.”

I swallowed hard. I’d heard these things before, but I’d never considered them in the context of what might have led to the divorce.

“But, I’ll admit,” Dad continued, “I was so focused on providing that I didn’t realize how much I was neglecting my relationships with you two. When you went off to college, your mom and I realized we were basically strangers. We were young when we married, and we’d grown up into different people who no longer had much of anything in common. The problem wasn’t that I was too much of a workaholic or that I couldn’t change. It was that I didn’t see the need to change until it was too late. I was focused on the wrong things, and I lost sight of what really mattered. But I learned my lesson.” He squeezed my shoulder. “Your mom and I may have parted ways, but I’ve built a good relationship with you in the years since then. Haven’t I?”

“You have,” I agreed.

“And I like what I’m building with Maggie—if she can forgive me for sticking my nose in her business. I guess what I’m trying to tell you is that it’s possible to change if you’re willing to try. But you have to stop making excuses for yourself. The only one responsible for your behavior is you. If you don’t like the way you’re acting, take some anger management classes, see a therapist, do something about it—but don’t blame it on Cora, and don’t use it as a justification for pushing people away. Having people in your life who you love gives you something to fight for—a reason to do better. To be better. To put in the work to become the man you want to be. Don’t miss out on that just because of some mixed-up ideas in your head. The version of you that loves with your whole heart is always going to be the best version of you—if you’ll let it be.”

My phone rang. I pulled it out and saw Nana Dee’s name on the screen.

“But if you don’t want to listen to me,” Dad said. “Maybe you should listen to Nana Dee. She was happily married for decades. Surely, she knows what it takes to make a relationship work.”

“Have the two of you been talking behind my back?”

“Just answer the phone.”

I did. “Hey, Dee.”

“Sorry I missed your call earlier.” She sounded tired.

“No worries,” I reassured her. “I was just calling to say hi.”