Max hesitated, then said, “It’s nothing. Asher texted. Apologizing for the awkwardness.”
Her shoulders tightened. “Such a nice guy,” she muttered.
“Let’s just . . .” He paused, exhaling slowly to control his rising frustration. “Can we get through this without commentary?”
“Okay,” she agreed, pulling her laptop closer like a shield. “Let’s push through.”
They bent over the paperwork again, but the earlier easy rapport had vanished, replaced by stilted conversation and long, uncomfortable pauses. He kept reading the same line over and over.
His gazedrifted to his phone, where voicemails and texts from his other projects sat urgent and unread. A tightness crept into his shoulders at the mounting workload. This partnership with Paloma, while exciting, was stretching him thin. Late nights and early mornings had already become the norm with the pineapple house. The Sterling project would make everything more difficult.
He glanced at Paloma, watching as she twirled a pen between her fingers. Her passion and creativity were undeniable, but right now, he was drowning in doubt. Was all this added stress and work truly worth it?
With a quiet sigh, he forced his attention back to the paperwork. Only time would tell if he’d made the right choice, but for now, all he could do was push forward and hope that the promise of their partnership would outweigh the complications of their personal lives.
Chapter Eleven
September 6th, 12:15 a.m.
Paloma wrapped her thin cardigan around her, shivering as the cool night air caressed her skin. She stared at the line of light on the water created by the nearly full moon. The gentle water lapping against Hope’s dock was a soothing rhythm, punctuated by the occasional creak of wood beneath their feet.
Although her friend seemed the opposite of relaxed, her posture was rigid, and she gripped her wine goblet tight enough to shatter it.
“What’s wrong?” Paloma asked. “Did I piss you off?”
“No, why do you think that?” Hope replied.
She’d had her monthly sunset cruise on her pontoon with friends. Lilith was naturally among them since they lived in a small town, and Asher was Hope’s twin. Paloma might have been a tad standoffish.
“For nettling Asher’sneighbor,” she said, “I should have kept my petty jabs to myself.”
“You. Petty, never.” Hope shook her head theatrically.
“Shut up, asshole.” Paloma pinched her friend’s arm playfully. “I’m not that bad.”
Hope snorted. “I recall in high school when Tammy forgot to add you to the group text for her Halloween party. The next day in homeroom, you dressed up as a ghost, telling everyone you were invisible to certain friends. After she apologized and made a new group text, you came to the party as a vampire and stood on her porch until she specifically asked you to come inside.”
“I was making sure. We all know vampires can’t enter a home without being invited in.” They laughed at the memory, and when the sound drifted off on the night air, she turned to Hope, the old glider they shared squeaking like a mouse. “But I should have left Lilith alone and not called her out. That was a bitch move. My dad called on the way over to your place. I was taking my annoyance out on her.”
“But you weren’t wrong.” Hope’s brows furrowed. “Wait, what happened with your dad?”
“What wasn’t I wrong about?” Paloma asked.
“Forget it. Tell me about your dad.”
“No way.” She wagged a finger. “I’d much rather hear about me being right.”
Hope smiled but turned toward the lake, her jaw tightening. “Maybe not this time.”
In the silence, Paloma studied her friend, replaying the evening. Hope had been in high spirits on the boat, but afterward, she’d gone quiet. When had that happened? Ah, when she had walked Lilith to her car.
“She admitted it finally,” Paloma said. “That’s she’s with your brother?”
Hope nodded. “We argued. Me and Lilith.”
“Would it help to talk about it?” She didn’t want to talk about Asher, who was part of her past. But Hope was a good friend, so Paloma would listen if needed.
“I’mgood. I said my piece. She will do what she wants with it.” Hope waved a hand as if brushing aside the topic. “Tell me about your dad. What did he want?”
