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Batshit crazy. The two words sum up my life the past month.
Since the morning I woke up and discovered Braydon was gone, everything feelswrong. Sleep is a joke. The shop is busy from when the doors unlock until the sign is flipped to closed. Mandi got the flu and passed it to Sharon, who gave it to Lexi. My car broke down two weeks ago on the way to girls’ night and had to be towed to Abel’s Garage—something about a head gasket, and let’s not forget the oil needing to be changed and a tire rotation. That put a major dent in my savings.
The cherry on top of the sundae… the expansion construction for Java and Teas Me starts in five days.
Why the hell did I decide to start construction during the season?
Because my head hasn’t been straight since Braydon was last here.
Originally, I’d asked Geoff if Architectural Crimson would help with the expansion project. He turned me down and gave me the business card of a fellow architect associate. Someone he trusted. I’d stashed the card in my office, swearing I’d call when the time felt right. I never reached out.
At the time, I didn’t know Geoff had been seeking out Mags. He’d been interested in her but wasn’t sure where things would go. When he suggested the other firm in Tacoma, it was his way of not mixing business and personal.
The Friday before my car crapped out, everyone met in the club after we ladies had our usual dinner. Geoff asked if I’d reached out to the architect and I said no. Out of left field, he and the guys offered to take on the project.
“Why the change of heart?”
Geoff drapes his arm over Mags’s shoulder and tugs her into his side, kissing her temple. “I thought it would be a conflict of interest.” He shrugs. “Things are different now.”
I need this slice of good news. “Count me in.”
The next day, Logan came into the shop and we talked logistics. By the time he left the shop, a heavy weight had lifted from my shoulders.
Little did I know, the weight would return and bring a few of its closest friends—ton and boulder.
A knock echoes through my office. Sighing, I lift my head from my hands and plaster on my best smile. “Come in.”
The door swings open and Lyndsey steps in, shifting from foot to foot behind the guest chairs. “Sorry to interrupt, but…”
I wait for her to continue. She doesn’t. “But…”
“A few of the customers are complaining about the noise.” A sheepish wince dons her face.
I close my eyes and count.
One, two, three. This will all work out.
Four, five, six. Today is a one-time issue. They start working overnight tomorrow.
Seven, eight. Everything will be fine.
Nine, ten. Everythingisfine.
I open my eyes and push my chair back. Rise from the seat and walk over to Lyndsey. Resting my hands on her shoulders, I give her a sympathetic smile. “I’ll handle the grumblers. You worry about the orders. This won’t be an issue after today.”
“Okay.”
As we exit the office, I slip on my invisible armor. The whirring and screeching of drills and power tools hits my ears before we step into the main part of the shop. Lyndsey returns to her spot at the register and I ask her to point out which customers are upset.
She juts her chin to a couple in the center of the dining room, then to a man in the far corner. When my eyes drift to the man, I blink a few times. His back to the counter, his brown hair and semi-slouched posture are familiar. I squint and look for any other similar qualities. Screeching fills the air and the man peeks over his shoulder, irritation flooding his expression with the flare of his nostrils and curl of his lip.
It’s not him.
The simmering pang I have felt the past month boils to the surface. I press the heel of my palm to my breastbone, trying to stave off the ache that never disappears. Not fully.
“Thanks, Lyndsey,” I say as I head for the dining room.
Like the noise from the construction, the throb in my chest won’t last forever. At least, this is what I keep telling myself.
