Jack eventually lets himself out of the car. He looks anxious. A bit disheveled. And beyond the stoniness of his expression is something else. Stress. My conclusion is only reinforced when he shoves a frustrated hand through his hair and slams his car door shut violently.
“For fuck’s sake, not again,” Richard mutters, marching over to him.
I rip my eyes from Jack’s and look at Richard, seeing his tight, pissed-off jaw. Not again? What does he mean? Jack takes a few steps toward his right-hand man, yanking on his suit jacket as he does, his head dropped. There’s too much distance between us for me to hear Richard’s hushed whispers, but it’s plain to see that something is wrong with Jack. Is it me?
I back up, beating down my curiosity, and make my way into the building. Work. Just get on with your work.
I find the old table where Richard has the drawings laid out and stare down at them, if only for something to do.
“Sorry I’m late.” Jack’s voice hits my back and makes every hair on my neck stand.
“You didn’t say you were coming.” I keep my eyes cemented on the drawings, dropping my bags to the floor next to the table. His tan brogues appear in my downcast vision, the same shoes he had on that fateful night. I close my eyes and work hard to calm myself down.
“I didn’t?” he replies. He knows damn well he didn’t.
“Does Richard know?” I need to find out what I’m dealing with.
“No.”
I breathe out my relief, hearing the sound of boots on the concrete behind me. “Okay, let’s—” Richard cuts off when his phone starts ringing. “Yes? Shit, yeah, I’ll be right out.” He curses under his breath. “The scaffolders are here and the skip wagon is in the way. You guys crack on. I need to go teach people how to drive.”
My eyes spring open, finding a pair of familiar hands spread on the table before me. Big, capable hands. Hands that handled me with confidence, authority, and care. I look up, straight ahead at the brick wall in front of me, rummaging through my mind for anything work related to say. There’s nothing. No words, only mental visions of that night. This is supposed to be getting easier, not harder!
“How are you?” Jack asks quietly.
“Great, thanks,” I chirp, way too over the top. I scold myself for sounding so completely fake. “You?” Why would I ask that?
“Struggling on.” His arm brushes mine, and I jump from his touching distance, pointing at the drawing nearest to me.
“I’d like you to go over these numbers with me.” I’m not even pointing at numbers. I’m pointing at a damn window spec.
Jack reaches forward with a finger and places it next to mine near the window, and I hear him inhale deeply. There’s a long, uncomfortable silence, until Jack finally breaks it. “These drawings really amaze me, Annie. Richard and I were marveling over them yesterday.”
“Thank you.” I brush off his compliment and straighten, turning into him and looking past his shoulder. “Shall we walk the site? I have a few questions, too.”
“Why can’t you look at me?”
My eyes drop, and I scream at him in my head to keep to his word. He promised. He promised to keep this business! “It’s this way,” I say, passing him and making my way to the rear of the building. “There’s a tree that I’m worried will jeopardize the glass roof.”
“Right.” Jack sighs and his footsteps kick in, following me. When I exit the existing old uPVC patio doors, I point to the colossal horse chestnut tree that canopies one quarter of the outside space.
Jack wanders around the trunk, looking up. “Have we checked if this thing has a preservation order on it?”
“It hasn’t,” I confirm. “But obviously, we should avoid chopping it down if we can. Though to get the full impact of the roof, we need to lose some of these branches.”
“I agree.” Jack smooths a hand down the bark of the tree, and my gaze follows it, my damn body responding like it’s feeling his touch all over again. I look up and catch his eye but quickly look away, knowing he’s reading my mind. “I’ll call the tree surgeon in,” he says quietly.
“Thank you.”
“No problem. We should also be mindful of the roots when we dig down for the footings of the extension. She’s one beast of a tree.” Jack looks upward, stretching his neck.
I wince and look away, but dart my eyes straight back to his throat in a double-take, squinting. What’s that mark on his neck?
“How we doing?” Richard appears, getting Jack’s attention so he lowers his head and I lose sight of the blemish. Or was it a shadow?
“We need to keep an eye on these roots, mate,” Jack says, stubbing the toe of his shoe on the trunk. “And we need to call in the surgeons to get rid of a few branches.”
“Got it,” Richard confirms. “Can I borrow Annie for a moment? I have a few questions about the steels.”
Yes! Please borrow me! Get me away!
“Sure,” Jack says softly, but I’m walking back into the building before I get his go ahead. And I can feel his fiery stare on me the whole damn way, raising my temperature higher and higher.
“Is it me, or is it really warm today?” I ask Richard’s back, pulling at the sides of my heavy visibility jacket.
“It’s you.” He laughs and points to a wall splitting two rooms. “This here is a supporting wall.”
“Right,” I confirm. “And the wall on the next floor is, too, so we need a pretty hefty steel in there. The calculations are on the drawing. I suspect we’ll need to get it specially made.”
“I’ll speak to the fabricators.” Richard reaches into his pocket and pulls out his card. “You’ll be needing this.”
“Perfect.”
“And this.” Another card appears, held between the fingers of Jack’s big hand.
“Thank you.” I take it without looking at him and slip them both into my trouser pocket.
“It’s gonna look amazing,” Richard remarks. Any other time, I would feel a sense of pride, but right now I’m riddled with too much apprehension to feel anything else.
“Colin’s filled you in on the roof situation?” I ask.
Richard laughs. “Yes. You’re one brave woman. If that roof arrives with a chip or crack, this whole project will be knocked off schedule.”
“I have a question.” Jack steps forward, and I can’t stop my eyes from meeting his. The gray I remember is clouded and dull, not sparkling and glittery. He’s definitely suffering here, and I get no pleasure from it. I’m suffering, too.
“What?” I ask tentatively, my head spinning with all of the questions that are probably on his mind, none of them work related.
He lifts a heavy arm and points at my torso. “Can I have my coat back?”
Richard starts laughing, and I tense from top to toe, looking down my front. “It’s yours?” Quickly shrugging the coat off, I hand it to Jack on an awkward smile.
He takes it slowly, and then his arm starts to lift toward me. I find myself discreetly pulling back, my stare following his outreached hand as it moves toward my head. What is he doing?
“And this,” he says quietly, taking the hard hat from my head.