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“I know what youintendto do, but life has a funny way of fucking over our best-laid plans.” He dismisses me with a flick of his gaze.
“We’re working on a project together, not falling in love.”
Dahlia made sure that wasn’t possible once she began dating my ex-roommate after I dropped out of Stanford.
He snorts. “Because working together went so well the last time.”
My teeth grind together as I remember the one and only time Dahlia and I teamed up: on a college psychology project.It was a decision made out of jealousy and became the first in a long list of mistakes I made when it came to her. Flirting. Kissing. Pushing her away because I didn’t have the skills to process my fear of losing someone else I loved after my father’s death.
“That right there is what I’m worried about.” Rafa points at me.
I blink a couple of times. “What?”
“That look on your face.”
“What are you talking about?”
He replicates an expression that sure as hell can’t be mine.
I toss a crumpled napkin at him. “No mames.”
“I thought you were over her.”
“I am. I was just…”
“Reminiscing?”
“Thinking,” I correct.
“Please consider doing more of that, because clearly you haven’t been lately.”
“Helping Dahlia get over Oliver is the right thing to do.” After all, I’m the one who introduced them to each other.
You’ll be back soon, right?Oliver asked in the middle of me panic-buying a plane ticket home after I heard about my dad’s heart attack.
Dahlia came over to help me pack up your stuff and ship it since you’re too busy to answer a single text, he messaged me a month after I dropped out of Stanford.And thanks for letting us know you weren’t coming back,dickface.So much for us being friends, he added.
No mames:Stop messing around.
Next thing I knew, Dahlia was in a relationship with the asshole who had his head stuck so far up his ass, I’m surprised he hadn’t suffocated yet.
Not a single week goes by when I don’t regret becoming friends with Oliver and the mistakes I made that pushed him and Dahlia together in the first place.
My fingers cramp from how long I’ve spent tapping them against the conference room table. It’s hard not to feel antsy after a day full of meetings with project managers, architects, engineers, and interior designers.
My general manager, Mario, shuffles a few papers in front of him. “All submitted permits for our projects have been paused due to the person in charge going on paternity leave.”
I frown. “And no one else can take over for the time being?”
“No. The same thing happened two years ago when Abbie was having her twins.”
I release a frustrated exhale. If I worked in a bigger city like Detroit or Chicago, I wouldn’t run into these kinds of issues. My life would be much less stressful if daily operations didn’t cease because a few people caught the flu or one person was out having a baby.
And lonelier.The idea of moving away from my family again has me shutting down that thought.
I speak up. “Readjust schedules so all our guys have consistent work for the next few weeks. It shouldn’t be too hardsince city hall approved our permits for the townhouses.” I turn to Ryder. “Any updates?”
Ryder, my project manager, quits tapping his pen against the clipboard. He’s been working with me for seven years already and worked his way up to his current position before turning thirty-eight. Thanks to him, I can sleep easier at night knowing he can manage my crew like a disciplined drill sergeant.
