Now, the “thing due” is a report on a $32 million mixed-use project that will make or break the entire quarter. I’m not a fan of The Apex expansion. Beck insists that we build a second building—when we’re still trying to fill the first with tenants. It feels too hasty.
But I still need to have the numbers finalized. I run my hands over my face and take a look around my office. There’s shit everywhere. It’s not the neat space it usually is.
But no one notices when my shit is off. They’re too wrapped up in themselves. I’m just the reliable guy who never fucking misses a deadline and always shows up.
Fuck.I do my best to pull myself from my pity party.
My brain would be firing on all cylinders if it weren’t for the fact that every time I try to focus, my thoughts veer sideways into the chaos of Adrian and Beck’s little feud over some undisclosedsubject, and even more embarrassingly, into the chaos of Maddy.
She’s in my head constantly, and right now she’s in the conference room, color-coding the latest batch of property reports. I see her through the glass, flipping her pen between her fingers and biting her lip in concentration.
She doesn’t notice me.
I’m supposed to be working on this project, not stalking her like a creep.
This past week has been a mess. Adrian is ice-cold one second, then explosive the next. Beck is… well,Beck. I don’t know what the hell he’s doing most of the time.
I’m supposed to be the anchor, the dependable partner who holds it together when the other two blow off steam.
I always thought it was a role I was suited for. But apparently, I’m full of shit. At least right now.
I do my best to focus on the tasks at hand. I decide to deal with the software issues first, so I pull up the bug complaints and print them off.
This would be so much easier with two people.
But I do what I do best: work alone.
After about forty-five minutes of flipping through spreadsheets and coding forums, I’m about to rip my hair out. Every time I close my eyes, my brain conjures up Maddy, hair a mess and lips pursed with that quiet, relentless focus.
Ihaveto talk to her, but I have to finish this stupid shit first.
I work until my vision blurs, the glare from my monitor giving me a headache. I force myself to keep typing, to keep rerunning the simulation, and working through one bug at a time.
That’s always been my thing. Just outwork the problem.
Finally, when I make it to the finish line of the first bug, I let out a deep breath.I got this.
I go to hitsaveand…
My computer crashes.
What. The. Fuck.
My jaw drops at the full, blue screen of death, fatal error, everything-is-fucked-and-so-are-you kind of crash.
This cannot be happening right now. No, no, no…I start smashing the escape button, desperate to undo whatever the fuck I just did, my heart pounding so hard, it’s all I hear.
I stare at the monitor, the loading circle mocking me, and I try to bring the system back to life with sheer force of will.
Nope.
My body goes completely rigid, and then I do something I haven’t done since I was a hot-headed teenager. I slam my fist into the desk and throw a fucking tantrum.
“Fuck!” I shout.
A stack of plumbing plans avalanches off the table and onto the floor, sending a snowstorm of sticky notes and graph paper everywhere. The desk shakes, my coffee tips over, and for a second, it looks like my whole damn office is caught in a paperwork tornado.
I just stand there, breathing hard, hand throbbing, staring at the disaster.
