A part of me wishes that this situation never unfolded because something is amiss here. I can feel it. But another, bigger part of me is emboldened that I’ve already said yes. If I’m involved at the start, I can do two things.
First, I can make sure that some fool like Johan doesn’t fuck Dara over. Second, I can feel Bowery Enterprises out before Oliver gets his panties in a twist and jumps all over the Mexico proposition—if it’s real. Because my reservations run deep in my bones.
“Well, Curt, you’ll be pleased to hear Dara and I decided to work together today,” I say, withholding a sigh. “We have a meeting on Monday.”
“That delights me. How wonderful.”
I can hear him smile. It takes everything I have not to roll my eyes.
“Please, take care of her, Wade. And whatever you need, let me know.”
“That’s the plan.”
I spot the file I came to the office for and tuck it under my arm.
“I’m glad to hear it. Call me if you have any issues and please don’t mention anything about Mexico to your brothers. Nothing is set in stone yet. You know how it goes.”
Unfortunately for you, I do. “Understood.”
“Talk soon.”
And just like that, Curt ends the call.
Fuck.
Somehow, this whole thing seems even more complicated, and I was sure that was impossible.
I wrap a hand over the back of my neck and storm through the foyer. Rosie looks up at me and smiles.
“I’m making you pictures,” she says, her grin stretching from ear to ear. “See? That’s your heart. It’s black.”
“Fitting.”
“Do you love it?”
“I think you’re a very perceptive little girl.”
She seems satisfied with this and goes back to her scribbling. I, on the other hand, march into her dad’s office.
“I have to go,” I say, gripping the back of the chair I sat in before. “I have work to do.”
Boone grins. “Have you told Ollie that you’re doing Bowery?”
“I’m not doing Bowery. I’m working on the Bowery project,” I correct him.
“Ah, she’s hot,” Boone says. “I knew it! You lucky fuck.”
I glare at him.
“Ignore him. I’ll let Oliver know,” Holt says.
“You do that,” I reply.
Before anyone can say anything else, all of our phones go off at the same time. We exchange a look before pulling them out.
Coy: I’m having a baby!
Bellamy: Excuse me?
Coy: WE ARE HAVING A BABY!
Bellamy: The light is green. GO or you’ll have this baby in your car.
Coy: Sorry.
Mom: I’m on my way!
“I better be the godfather,” Boone says, tossing his cell on the desk. “I mean, I don’t know who else he’d pick, but it better be me.”
“Of note, we aren’t Catholic,” I point out.
Boone shrugs. “So?”
“So, godparents are traditionally a Catholic thing,” Holt points out. “But I think he is choosing godparents for the baby, and I think they are Hollis and Larissa.”
Boone gasps. “Why? Coy has four brothers, and he’s picking Hollis? I call bullshit.”
“It’s probably not a bad idea. Larissa is Bellamy’s best friend,” I point out. “And Hollis …” I release a hefty breath. “Give him a break. The guy just found out that his sister died ten years ago. Let him have this.”
Holt nods in agreement, a frown on his face. “I feel so fucking awful for him.”
I hang my head, fiddling with my fingers. I don’t like to talk about this kind of shit. I’d rather jab my eye with one of Rosie’s crayons.
“Maybe this godparent situation will make him feel like he’s a part of the family,” Holt says. “I think that’s what Coy is going for. They’ve gotten really close.”
Boone crosses his arms over his chest. “Fine. I agree. But one of you better have a kid then and let me be the godparent.”
I turn and head for the door.
“Want to have a kid, Wade?” Boone teases. “I’ll let you borrow Rosie for the night.”
“Fuck off,” I say over my shoulder, much to my brother’s amusement. “Bye, Holt.”
“Goodbye.”
I hurry down the hallway and enter the elevator before Rosie can see me. I just don’t have the energy to peel her off me again.
The buttons light up, and I select the parking level and then relax against the glass. A little pink sticker that’s stuck about Rosie-level shines from just below the buttons. The color jolts my memory and takes me back to this morning.
And to the errant puppy.
Then to Dara Alden and her insinuation that I’m not the best architect around.
Damn her, anyway.
SEVEN
DARA
“This is a great shot,” I say, taking a second to appreciate my handiwork.
I fiddle with the image a bit more. It’s a shot with the groom and his two best friends from a wedding I worked on a few weeks ago. Their arms are over each other’s shoulders, and a bottle of Corona is hanging from one of their hands. Faces lit up in smiles like someone just told a joke. The golden hour casts the perfect glow on their handsome faces.
The wedding was amazing. It was the kind of celebration that I always pictured for myself. The white tents were filled with delicious food and raucous laughter. Revelers danced until the wee hours of the morning. The music didn’t stop—random explosions of confetti and sparklers didn’t wane—until the closest neighbor a mile away finally complained at three o’clock in the morning.
“There. That’s perfect.” I stop editing the picture and pause to get a better look. “They’re going to love these.”
I reach for another baby carrot on my snack plate when my phone rings. I clamp a hand over the back of my neck—tense and stiff from the past four hours of edits—and answer the call.
“Hello?”
“Guess what?” Rusti squeals. “Don’t guess. I’m not going to wait that long because I can’t wait that long to tell you my news. So, guess what? Zack called.”
Her enthusiasm is a little much, especially for news that I already expected would happen. Of course, Zack called. Zack is an opportunist. There’s no way he doesn’t know how into him Rusti is, and Rusti is a catch by all accounts.
I recline in my chair. “He did? When?”
“Now. Just a minute ago. He wants to see me.”
“He wants to see you to give you back a hoodie? Or to get a little booty?”
She laughs. “Realistically? Probably the first, but I’m hoping for the second.”
“Just keep that little dog of yours out of the way, or she’ll clam jam you.”
Rusti’s laughter only grows louder. “What is that? The female equivalent of a cock block?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I laugh. “Come to think of it, she might trigger something in Zack if he starts remembering all that leg humping. You should probably hide her.”
“Aw, Auntie Dara. Do you want to puppy sit your little niece?”
I make a face and pick up a carrot. “Hardly.”
“Hey, now,” she says, teasing me. “The last time I allowed you to watch her—”
“You practically threw her at me.”
“Well, you almost let her get away.”
I snap off the end of the carrot. “Because she clearly hates me. You’re a terrible mother for letting your child be with someone they loathe.”
“She was testing you just like all kids do. You should be honored that I’d even consider letting you watch her again.”
I snort and get to my feet. “That’s me. Honored.”