Each bite sat heavy. Sugar clung to my tongue, thick and lingering, the way guilt always did. The skirt dug into my waist, and with it came the memory—
Kitchen light too bright.
My mother’s hand smoothing fabric over my stomach.
My father saying nothing.
You’d be so beautiful if you just tried a little harder.
The words still lived under my skin, unwelcome and familiar, tangled with the rest. I chased the sting with coffee, letting the bitterness shoulder the blame.
The intercom crackled. “Ms. Sinclair, Kevin and the others would like to meet in the conference room in ten minutes. You’re clear until noon.”
I glanced at the unopened briefcase. “Have them come here instead. I don’t have the energy to relocate today.”
“Of course, Ms. Sinclair.”
Jennifer arrived first—polished as always, though the shine had dulled at the edges. David followed, rolling up his sleeves as he dragged the velvet chair from the corner closer to my deskwithout asking. Kevin came last, balancing an untouched cup of coffee like a peace offering.
“Thanks for meeting here,” I said. “I needed something less formal this morning.”
“No problem,” Jennifer replied as she settled in, clipped but gentle. “I’ve already filled them in.”
My face fell. “So you all know.”
“Every detail,” David said. His voice carried an uncharacteristic tenderness.
Kevin loosened his tie. “Davidson’s a damn ass.”
Understatement of the year.His laugh still echoed in my head—mean, lingering.
“How’s everyone holding up?” I asked.
“I’m fine,” Jennifer said, then sighed. “Just juggling too much. As usual.”
David leaned back, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I won’t lie—I’m exhausted. And I had to tell Rebecca last night we’re canceling the Hawaii trip.” He shot Kevin a wry look, a flicker of shared misery cutting through the fatigue. “You can imagine how that went.”
Kevin’s chuckle was low, scraped raw by lack of sleep. “I’d trade you both. The twins have decided nighttime is optional. If I make it through this week, it’ll be out of spite.”
David’s expression softened. “Be grateful for this age. One minute they’re yelling for help finding the bathroom at two a.m., and the next they won’t answer your texts unless you bribe them.”
Kevin grinned. Even Jennifer’s composure cracked—a surprised laugh slipping out, brief and bright, like sunlight through blinds.
We took the panic apart. Piece by piece. Pulled it loose, examined the fractures, and wound what remained back into a plan. We pressed at weak points until only the essential piecesheld. The click of markers and the rustle of paper layered into a rhythm that almost passed for control.
By the time the meeting broke, sunlight had shifted across the carpet. Something lighter hovered in the room—tentative, fragile.
Hope, maybe.
Or maybe I’d just let them walk out carrying it for me.
***
Hours later, the office had emptied into stillness.
Calyx—our Hail Mary—had soft-confirmed the bridge financing. One brick on a wall that still shook. Enough to make payroll. Enough to keep the lights on.
For now.
