"Actually," I say, closing the folder, "I saw a vacant storefront on Butler Street. I'd like to look at that first."
Hawk's eyebrows shoot up. "Near Bishop Books?"
"Is it?" I ask innocently. "I hadn't noticed."
* * *
The commercial realtor shows me the first building and then mentions another option. This one is two doors down from Noa's bookshop and apartment, separated only by a brick wall and a vacant shop that I consider buying immediately, just to knock it down and create a walking path connecting my space with hers.
"It's been vacant for about three months," the realtor explains, unlocking the door. "Former tenant was a boutique clothing store that moved to Shadyside."
I step inside, taking in the high ceilings, original hardwood floors, and large front windows. The space is small, but more than adequate for my needs, with several floors I can fill with staff.
I walk the perimeter, mentally placing desks, conference tables, and a comfortable reception area. This is madness. I'm choosing an office location based on proximity to a woman I've spent two nights with. A woman who looked distinctly uncertain about my plans this morning.
"What's the lease term?" I ask, despite the voice of reason screaming in my head.
"Minimum one year, but the owner prefers three."
I nod, run a hand along the smooth wood of the counter that remains from the boutique. "I'll take it. Three-year lease."
The realtor blinks. "Don't you want to see the other properties?"
"No need." I pull out my checkbook. "What's required for the deposit?"
An hour later, I'm the proud leaseholder of 1875 Butler Street. The keys feel heavy in my pocket as I step outside, and reality crashes over me in waves. I've just committed to a three-year stay in Pittsburgh. Three years next door to Noa's shop.
What started as 'testing the waters' has become jumping into the deep end. There's no backing out now—this isn't just a satellite office. This is my life.
I pull out my phone to call her, to share this monumental decision, but I hesitate. She was so cautious this morning, so concerned about the speed of things. Maybe I should give her space to process?
However, the need to tell her prevails. I tap her contact and listen to the phone ring until voicemail picks up. "Hi, it's Noa. Leave a message!"
"Hey, it's Brian. I have some news. Call me when you get a chance."
I end the call and stare at her shop's blue and silver awning. Should I go in? Would that seem too eager, too presumptuous?
Before I can decide, my phone rings—Tahel.
"So?" she demands without preamble. "Did you sign your life away to Pittsburgh?"
"Three-year lease," I confirm. “Done and dusted.”
She whistles. “Smooth, boss."
“I’m not sure about that, but it’s … something.” I start walking toward my hotel, needing to move. "What's the status of the client transition plan?"
"In progress. I've scheduled video conferences with all affected clients for tomorrow and Friday. Most seem fine with the arrangement, especially since you're retaining direct oversight."
"And the staffing?"
"Three potential associates identified, interviews next week. I also have a shortlist of local assistants in Pittsburgh."
I've always appreciated Tahel's efficiency, but today, it feels like a lifeline. At least one part of this massive change is proceeding logically. "What would I do without you?"
"Crash and burn," she says cheerfully. "So, when do I get to meet this woman who's got you uprooting your entire existence?"
"I don't recall mentioning a woman."
