He turns back, his eyes boring into mine. “Why do you want this job? Give me the truth, not the essay.”
The room is silent. Just the hum of the light and the ghost of the Thompson mansion. I can still feel the weight of the gallery portraits watching me, their eyes heavy with judgment. The silver-and-white ballroom. The crash of my knees against the red carpet.
And then, there’s Harley.
That grainy newspaper photo. The way she looked at Mrs. Delgado—with respect, power, and a fierce, quiet love. But looking at her forces me to look at myself: at the mold in our apartment, at the way she suffered because I was too afraid to tell my parents the foundation was rotten. I remember the cedar boxes Jake built, the ones Elaine threw away because they weren’t ‘appropriate.’
“I’m a thirty-year-old man who doesn’t know who he is without a brand name on his business card,” I say.
Mike doesn’t interrupt.
“I’ve spent my life building things for people who don’t need them, using money I didn’t earn, to please a man who doesn’t love me,” I continue. “I’ve let the most important person in my life walk away because I couldn’t choose between a mansion and a human being. I’ve lived in two worlds, Mike, and I destroyed both of them.
“I looked at myself in the mirror and realized I’m just an empty frame. I don’t want to design villas anymore; I want to build something real. I want to learn how to swing a hammer. I want to be someone who creates rather than inherits. I want to be the man worthy of her respect, even if I never see her again.Even if I’m just a guy in the mud, making fifty thousand a year. I need to know that I can stand on my own two feet without a trust fund holding me up.”
I stop. I’m out of words.
Mike studies me for several beats. Then my tie. Then my hands.
“You’re completely unqualified on paper,” he says.
“I know.”
“You use corporate jargon, and you’re clearly an entitled brat who has no idea how hard this work actually is.”
“I am,” I say. “But I’m willing to get my hands dirty.”
Mike lets out a short, dry chuckle. He sits back down, the metal chair creaking.
“I like your grit, Thompson. It’s buried deep, but it’s there. You’ve got the kind of desperation that either builds a house or burns it down. I’m betting on the building.”
“Wait.” My heart stops. “You’re hiring me?”
“Assuming your background check clears—and I’m assuming it will, since you’re too much of a Boy Scout to have a record—you can start Monday. Eight a.m. sharp at the site on 4th and Maple.”
Standing, a surge of adrenaline hits me like a physical blow. “Thank you. Mike, thank you. You won’t regret this.”
“One condition,” Mike says, pointing at my chest. “Leave the tie at home. Leave the Audi, too, if you can. You’ll be swinging a hammer, not attending a board meeting. If I see you in silk on my site, you’re fired before you hit the mud.”
“I understand,” I say, a grin breaking across my face.
When I walk out of the office, I don’t feel like an invader anymore.
The air is crisp, smelling of rain and asphalt. I look at my Audi R8. It’s a beautiful car, but it’s a Thompson car. And I realize I’mgoing to sell it. I’m going to buy a truck that can hold a toolbox. I’m going to get some more jeans and an actual flannel shirt.
I’m still miles away from being the man Harley deserves, and I know I might never get back to her. She might marry someone else, someone who never had to learn how to be a person at thirty.
But as I stand in the parking lot, I realize I’m not breathing for anyone else but me.
Chapter 24
Skyler
The interior of my new-to-me Ford F-150 smells like a different life. It’s the raw, aggressive tang of sawdust, sunbaked lumber, and my sweat. Three months ago, my hands were as smooth as silk. Now, calluses crosshatch my palms, and the grit of the site permanently stains the skin over my knuckles.
Rehearsing the words, I grip the steering wheel, my fingers locking around the worn plastic. I’ve changed, Harley. I’m not that man anymore.
But even now, with sawdust in my hair and a tan that comes from fourteen-hour days under a relentless Illinois sun, I still sound like a man trying to manage a merger.
