Archie went very still, like someone had pressed pause on him mid-movement.
“They don’t just take homes,” I continued, too frustrated to notice immediately. “They unravel entire lives. Families scatter because they can’t afford anything nearby. Children have to change schools mid-year. Elderly residents lose access to their doctors. Community networks that took decades to build just dissolve in months like they never existed.”
“That’s—” He stopped. His throat worked as he swallowed. “That sounds devastating.”
“It is devastating. And the people in charge don’t care because they never see the damage firsthand. They just see profit margins and property values on spreadsheets.” I looked at him then, his face had gone pale, his jaw tight. “Are you alright?”
“What?” He blinked, snapping back from wherever he’d gone. “Yeah. Sorry. I was just thinking about what you said.”
“About Devlin Holdings?”
“About all of it.” He set his wine glass down on a nearby table, his movements careful and precise like he was concentrating very hard on the simple action. “I’m sorry—I just remembered I have an early meeting tomorrow. I should go prepare.”
The excuse was so transparent it almost stung.
“Oh.” I tried to keep my face neutral, tried not to show the disappointment settling in my stomach. “Sure. No problem.”
“It was good seeing you.” He was already stepping back, already putting distance between us. “I’ll text you. About rescheduling dinner.”
Then he was gone, weaving through the crowd toward the exit like he couldn’t get out fast enough.
I stood there holding my wine glass, watching him disappear down the hallway toward the elevators.
Sam reappeared at my side, concerned replacing his earlier amusement. “Did Terrace Guy just run away from you?”
“Apparently.”
“What did you say to him?”
“I was talking about my case. About Devlin Holdings and displacement.” I replayed the conversation in my head, trying to figure out where it had gone wrong. “I don’t know. Something I said made him bolt.”
“Maybe he’s uncomfortable when confronted with actual problems,” Sam said, shrugging like it was obvious. “Some people are like that. They want interesting conversations but not ones that actually require them to think about uncomfortable things.”
“Maybe.” But that didn’t feel right. Archie had asked about my work. Had seemed genuinely interested until I mentioned the company name and what they were doing.
“Also he canceled dinner on you,” Sam added. “Which honestly, red flag. I’m starting to think Terrace Guy was an incident.”
“An incident?”
“A thing that happened that you remember fondly but that shouldn’t be repeated.” He sipped his wine thoughtfully. “I’m just saying, maybe the universe is trying to tell you something and you should listen.”
I wanted to defend Archie, to say there was probably a good reason for everything—the canceled dinner, the sudden exit, the way his face had changed when I mentioned Devlin Holdings.
But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. That there was something he wasn’t telling me, something important.
We stayed at the event for another hour. I made half-hearted attempts at networking, shaking more hands and collecting business cards I’d probably never use.
Later that night, lying in bed and staring at my ceiling, I pulled up my phone and looked at our text thread.
Archie
I’m really sorry about Friday. Work’s been insane. Can we reschedule?
Gianna
No problem! Let me know when works for you.
No response since then. And today he’d literally run away from me at a networking event.
