Danica
Okay okay okay LOOK WHO’S OFFICIALLY IN THE CHAT?!?
Pete
our favorite reclusive architect
Kiera
Welcome to the chaos, Gwyneth!! You can’t leave now, this chat is blood-bound.
Maggie
Again, her full name is not Gwyneth.
Danica
Sorry, I don’t make the rules. Gwyneth until proven otherwise.
Gwen
…Hi
Izzy
Don’t worry, we mostly just send memes and argue about who’s bringing what to the next potluck.
Danica
I’ve been trying to rein in the chaos of this group for years and no one listens to me. Gwyneth, be my ally.
Pete
lies. she’s secretly the most chaotic among us.
Gwen
I’ll do my best. Thanks for letting me in
Kiera named the conversation “GWYNETH’S GOBLINS”.
Maggie
Do not make me send a picture of her birth certificate!
CHAPTER 4
Gwen
Gwen was earlyto the office, even by her own standards. She parked in the side lot, slipped in through the alley entrance, and bypassed the espresso machine entirely. Her desk light was the only one on, a soft triangle of gold in a sea of darkened offices. She liked it that way. Quiet. Controlled. Predictable.
She always missed her Austin office when Melinda had her travel somewhere else. Although having Melinda in Denver last week had been a welcome sense of home, Gwen very much preferred not to be anywhere but in Austin, near her family.
Her inbox was already flooded with feedback on the renderings she’d cranked out in a midnight rush, sprawled in the rock-hard guest bed. The comments were mostly minor nitpicks. A few questions about materials. Nothing she couldn’t handle. She made a few notes, toggled between CAD files, then closed it all with a sigh. Her eyes drifted to the calendar app in the corner of her screen. Her mom had confirmed she’d still love to watch the kids for the weekend,and Gwen had submitted the PTO request last night. The Vegas trip was blocked in green.
She still hadn’t figured out why she’d said yes. It had been a reflex more than a decision — everyone was already cheering, Maggie had frozen, and Gwen had just… gone with it all. Now, it sat inside her like a pebble in a shoe, small and persistent. Part of her regretted it. Part of her didn’t. There was a strange thrum of anticipation beneath the unease, like she was waiting for something to shift. Maybe it would be a disaster. Maybe it would help. Maybe, for once, she was allowed not to know.
Melinda knocked once and leaned in. She looked as polished as ever, in high-waisted trousers and a cream blouse that should’ve been too formal for Austin but somehow looked effortlessly chic on her. Her dark hair was twisted up and clipped, stray curls escaping along her temples.
