Chapter 3
IN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL, SHELBY HAD been a fighter. Not just a fighter for causes, but a knock-down-drag-out fighter. She’d come home so often from school with black eyes or busted lips that her mother had refused to let Shelby get her ears pierced because some other girl was bound to rip out an earring. Shelby had given and received plenty of punches growing up.
Staring at Wade—inAlan’sconference room withAlan’sconsent—she felt like she’d been sucker punched in the gut. All the air rushed from her lungs, and she stood frozen in place for a few seconds. Then, with a loud noise, her lungs sucked in air again. Now she knew why Wade had come to San Francisco.
Shelby spun around and faced Alan, her betrayer. She couldn’t believe he’d set her up.
“How could you?” Shelby hissed. She turned and strode to the door.
Philip still held it open, his eyes wide in surprise. She blasted past him and into the waiting room, where Shang Junior had jumped to his feet, his eyes darting between her and his father.
“Shelby, come back.” Alan hurried up behind her and grabbed her arm, forcing her to turn around to face him. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“And yet you know what it looks like.” She brushed at her eyes, hating the weakness of tears.
“His company sent him as the replacement architect working on the project you’ve been assigned to.” Alan released his grip and rubbed her arm where his hand had clutched her so hard.
“You couldn’t warn me?”
“Would you have come?” He had her there, but she didn’t answer. Alan leaned closer and lowered his voice. “This really is the job you’ve been hoping for. If you can turn this project around, you’ll have your pick of employers.” He stepped back. “Don’t blow it because of old issues. You told me yourself he was history.”
Shelby took a deep breath, opened her purse, and pulled out a mirror and tissue. The day had already turned into a disaster, and she held responsibility for part of it. Fine. She could own that. Pretending a nonchalance she didn’t feel, she fixed her makeup. By the time she felt more in control, she also looked the professional. She shot Alan a scathing look and headed back to the conference room.
***
Wade stood frozen in place as he watched Shelby storm from the room. No way would a Love Potion hot chocolate have softened up the look of loathing she’d directed at him. She musthatehim.
He turned to stare out the window onto the vista before him, the Bay Bridge off to the right, with its connection to Yerba Buena Island. Shelby had once talked about hiking on the island, about how fun it was to have a view of both the Oakland skyline on one side and the San Francisco skyline on the other. Someday, she’d said, they would tour the City together, and she would take him to all her favorite haunts—Pier 39, The Cannery, Ghirardelli Square, Alcatraz, Golden Gate Park, China Town, Golden Gate Bridge, riding a cable car. She’d talked all the time about the many museums in the City and even the opera, though he knew for a fact she wasn’t a fan of opera music. She’d insisted it was a bucket list experience to visit the theater.
Letting out a breath, Wade tried to decide what he should do. He didn’t want to say something to make things worse. All his dreams of having a chance to talk with her, to get to know her again seemed like simple flights of fancy when held up against that look. Something niggled at the back of his mind, a memory of something his mother had said right after Shelby walked away and Wade had realized she wasn’t coming back. What was it? Something about emotions, even negative emotions. She’d thought he should keep trying for Shelby, if he really loved her.
Any strong emotion can be turned around. Shelby’s hurt. She’s furious with you now, and I imagine she thinks she hates you. That’s powerful, Wade. You can’t fight indifference, but hate you can turn around. She loved you once; she can love you again.
Wade had held on to that thought ever since. Now, faced with the memory of Shelby’s fury, his confidence withered. How could he possibly turn that around? He wasn’t anything special. Not to her. Not anymore.
At the sound of voices moving closer, Wade turned around. He closed his eyes for a second, as he always did before an important presentation. He needed to look and sound like the confident and talented architect he knew himself to be. Yes, he might be his company’s second choice for this job, but he knew the only thing he lacked was seniority.
When Kepnes’s wife had been diagnosed with cancer, Wade had finally understood why the man had seemed so distracted. It also helped explain why the job’s problems had continued to mount. A lot more rested on Wade than his personal happiness, but, as Shelby entered the room, that stayed in the forefront of his mind.
She gave him a single nod of acknowledgment before taking one of the chairs. Wade turned to Mr. Bradley for direction, but the older man simply walked around the table and took the chair facing Shelby. Wade stepped forward and sat in the seat beside hers. He lifted his briefcase and removed the large tablet that contained the files for the project. His hands didn’t even shake as he typed in his password. Not much, anyway. He tried not to inhale too deeply. She still wore the same perfume.
Closing his eyes again, he worked to ground himself. If Mr. Bradley decided Wade wasn’t the right man for the job, all hope at a chance to connect with Shelby again would disappear. That must not happen.
“So what do you have me working on this time, Alan?” Shelby asked.
Wade opened his eyes and found that she had also opened a tablet. Same make and model as his. Even the same color. He almost remarked on it but decided to keep his mouth shut until Mr. Bradley wanted information.
“Shelby, I know you’ve heard about the island resort project,” the attorney began, “because it’s been in the news. If you recall, the development will have four distinct villages from different parts of the world.”
“You’re giving me that?” Shelby shifted in her chair, excitement coloring her voice for the first time.
Wade straightened a little, frowning. Kepnes had confided some concerns about the project, one being a lack of information sharing. Wade struggled to imagine being shoved into a project with no advance information. It seemed a poor business practice.
“Do you have a question, Mr. Masters?”
“Uh ...” Wade fumbled for something to say, not sure how to put his discomfort into words. If he wanted to tick Shelby off, he only had to imply she needed someone to speak up for her. They might be developing the cultural immersion resort in phases, but it still required an overarching perspective. “I had the impression Ms. Nash was already on board with the project.”
Mr. Bradley sent Wade a piercing glance before turning to Shelby. “Ms. Nash is good at what she does. I have no doubt she will step in with her usual finesse. Now, about the development—” He straightened his papers. “We have smaller-scale project managers for each of the individual phases. Shelby, you’ll have a couple of responsibilities. One is rather discreet, and you’ll get your instructions in an email. The other will be to work with the lead architect.” The attorney nodded to Wade.
