I clear my throat. “Functional, at least.”
She smirks, but before she can say anything more, the door opens, and cold air rushes in.
Dorian James steps inside like he owns the place—tailored coat, scarf looped perfectly, eyes sweeping the hall with that architect’s detachment that makes everyone else feel like background.
He takes it in—the lights, the flowers, the new trim along the baseboards—and nods, impressed. “It’s stunning,” he says, voice low and even. “Truly.”
Norah stiffens. I notice because I always notice her. Her shoulders tighten, but she forces a polite smile. “Thanks.”
Jude, oblivious or maybe just too tired to care, claps Dorian on the back. “You missed the real fun—the part where we nearly froze our asses off fixing that leaky window.”
Dorian chuckles, though his eyes flick toward Norah again. “I’ll make sure to show up next time. You’ve outdone yourselves.”
“Just wait till Christmas,” Jude says. “We’ll be tearing half of this down again for the winter market. It’s going to be chaos.”
“Good chaos,” Dorian says. “That builds legacies.”
He says it like he means it, but like he’s already halfway somewhere else in his head.
Norah mutters something about checking the humidity and slips away before anyone can stop her. Jude notices but doesn’t comment. Dorian’s jaw tightens for a second, then he smiles again, composed.
“I’ll get out of your hair,” he says, adjusting his coat. “Just wanted to see the progress before tonight. Mayor Brighton’s thrilled.”
“He should be,” Jude says, grinning. “He’s the one who hired us last minute and demanded miracles.”
Dorian nods to me. “Ryker.”
“James.”
He studies me for a second, then says, “Good work.”
It’s short, genuine. I nod back. “You too.”
He leaves, boots echoing against the floorboards. The moment the door shuts behind him, the air seems to settle.
Jude exhales. “That guy’s wound tighter than a nail gun.”
“He’s got the polished kind of stress,” I say. “The kind that costs money.”
Jude chuckles. “And you’ve got the grumpy kind.”
“Balance,” I mutter.
He laughs, but the sound fades quickly. “I should hit the road soon. It’s a five-hour drive, maybe six with the snow.”
“You sure you don’t want to stay for the opening? Get some food in you first?”
He shakes his head. “If I stay, I’ll drink. And if I drink, I won’t leave. Amber needs me more than Brighton needs my costume.”
I nod. “Tell her hi for me. Tell Maisie I asked about her, too.”
He gives me a quick hug. “Try not to work tonight, okay? Take a damn break.”
“Go save your sister, Jude.”
He grins, then disappears into the crowd.
By the time the party starts, I’m long gone.
