“That’s plenty. Some historical figures operated on less. Napoleon. Einstein. Various people who definitely didn’t die of exhaustion-related complications.”
“Scott.”
Grayson and I have been business partners for fifteen years. We built Reed Development from nothing but student loans and audacity. Survived recessions, bad investments, and that one year where we nearly murdered each other over a zoning dispute that still gives me a twitch.
He knows me better than anyone.
Which is precisely why this conversation is going to be painful.
“I’m fine,” I say, settling into the chair across from him. “Just busy. The Harrington project is demanding more attention than anticipated, and the quarterly reports need?—”
“I got Harold’s email.”
I freeze with the coffee halfway to my mouth.
Grayson’s expression is carefully neutral. The neutrality of a man who’s about to say something I don’t want to hear. “He cc’d me. Wants to discuss the boardwalk property.”
“It’s handled.”
“You told her sixty days?”
“I told her sixty days.”
“And you think that’s enough time for Jessica to either agree to a forty percent rent increase or find a new location?”
The way he says her name—gentle, knowing, like he’s handling explosives—makes me want to throw something.
“It’s not about what I think. It’s about what the numbers say.”
“Right. The numbers.” Grayson takes a long sip of his coffee, studying me over the rim like he’s reading a very obvious book. “The same numbers that say we’ve been carrying that property at a loss for three years that somehow never make it into the quarterly reports we send to Harold and Patricia.”
My jaw tightens. “I’m handling it.”
“You’re in love with her.”
“That’s—”
“Scott.”
“—completely—”
“Scott.”
“I’m not—” I catch the look on his face and abandon the denial. It was a terrible denial anyway. Wouldn’t have convinced a jury of sympathetic blind people. “It’s complicated.”
“You’ve been in love with her for two years. You bought her building specifically so you could be her landlord. You’ve invented approximately forty-seven ‘routine property inspections’ as excuses to see her. Last month you rearranged your entire Tuesday schedule so you could ‘accidentally’ be at the library when she does her volunteer literacy program.” Grayson ticks these off on his fingers like he’s been keeping a list, which he probably has, because he’s thorough and annoying. “What part of this is complicated?”
“The part where she thinks I’m a soulless corporate shark trying to destroy everything she loves?”
“Have you considered...not acting like a soulless corporate shark trying to destroy everything she loves?”
“It’s called a defense mechanism, Grayson. Some of us have those.”
“Some of us have healthier coping strategies.”
“You proposed to Michelle with a coffee blend. You don’t get to lecture me about healthy.”
“That was romantic.”
