“Your point?”
“Look, don’t get me wrong, I’m actually glad you found your balls and asked her out, what I find puzzling is that you never mentioned it to me. We’re partners, Callum. I thought we didn’t keep things from each other?”
Callum sent an incredulous look Graham’s way. “We’re business partners, not Siamese twins, joined at the hip. I’m allowed to have a personal life that’s not open to the scrutiny of others, even yours.”
Graham sensed he’d tripped on sensitive ground. “Point taken,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender, “but forgive me for having questions.”
"You're forgiven. Feel free to keep them to yourself."
But Graham kept talking. “She seems great, by the way. When I met her the other day—all of thirty seconds before you practically shoved me out the door—she seemed sharp. Funny. Not your usual type."
"I don't have a type."
“Yes, you do, buddy. Your type is 'emotionally unavailable’ and ‘least likely to pester you for quality time’. Willow doesn't strike me as that.”
“Meaning?” I set down my coffee with more forcethan necessary.
“I know this is going to sound contradictive but I’m not sure getting involved with someone like Willow is the wisest idea right now. The Ashford deal requires your head in the game. Willow seems like a girl who…requires a lot of attention. You know what I mean?”
I mentally winced. “Because she’s twenty-three and I’m forty? Is that what you’re getting at?”
“Hey, I’m trying to be delicate here but…yeah.”
“Don’t worry about me. Nothing’s going to get in the way of the firm getting that contract,” I promised him, hoping that would be the end of this cringe-worthy conversation.
But it wasn’t.
“Callum.” Graham leaned forward. "I've known you for fifteen years. You're distracted. The question is whether you can compartmentalize long enough to close this deal, or whether Willow Monroe is going to cost us the biggest contract we've ever pursued."
"She won't."
"You sure about that? You've spent an hour staring at drawings you could review in your sleep. You haven't touched the material samples for the presentation. And every time your phone vibrates, you check it with the eagerness of a teenager waiting for a text from his crush."
“You need a hobby,” I growled.
"I'm not saying don't date her," Graham continued. "God knows you need a life outside this office. But the timing is... complicated. Ashford is watching everything. If this relationship implodes before you secure the contract?—"
"It won't."
"How do you know?"
I met his stare. "I know."
Graham held my gaze for a long moment, then nodded and stood. "All right. I'll trust your judgment. But Callum? Be careful. We can’t afford to lose our heads when something this big is on the horizon.”
He left before I could argue.
I stared at the closed door, his warning echoing in my head. Like I’d ever lose my head over Willow Monroe.
Except.
Except I kept thinking about that kiss. Kept checking my phone for messages from her. Kept counting the hours until Friday when I'd have a legitimate excuse to touch her again.
I picked up my phone. Our text exchange from yesterday stared back at me—brief, polite, utterly lacking the spark of our in-person interactions.
Updated my wardrobe. Thanks for the card. When you see the bill, don’t say I didn’t warn you.
He already knew how much had been spent and he thought she’d underspent.See you Friday.
