Chapter twenty-seven
Sam
The oat milk latte slides onto my desk, interrupting the drone operator mid-sentence.
I blink down at the cup, then up at Tom's retreating back. He doesn't even pause to look at me, stepping right back to the monitors to point at the live aerial feed.
Rule Number One: The work comes first.
We agreed on it yesterday. We sat on his couch in his half-empty apartment, typed the parameters into my phone, and sealed it with a kiss that absolutely short-circuited my brain.
We promised we would keep the personal and the professional in two completely separate boxes.
But it turns out, watching Tom flawlessly execute Rule Number One is a massive liability to my concentration.
He doesn't acknowledge the coffee delivery. Doesn't break stride in his explanation about altitude adjustments and whether the current angle matches the perspective in my design.
The drone operator, Reeves, leans closer to the screen. "If I drop another ten feet, I lose the waterfront context."
“Then tilt north,” Tom says. “Just enough to keep the harbor in frame.” He gestures toward the screen.
“We need the Board to see how her path threads through the structure. If the angle flattens it, the scale disappears.”
Her path.
Tom shifts his weight, one hand braced on the desk. Completely focused.
I should be looking at the monitor. I should be checking the sightline alignment against the rendering.
Instead I’m watching him.
He is treating me like a standard, strictly professional colleague, just like we planned. So why is his hyper-competence making my pulse hammer against my throat?
I wrap my hand around the coffee cup. I take a sip, letting the caffeine hit my system, and close my eyes for a fraction of a second. Two shots of espresso. He remembered exactly how I take it.
"That," Tom says. "Hold that."
The operator nods. "I'll send you the raw files tonight."
"Appreciate it."
The operator packs up his gear and heads out.
Tom doesn't look at me right away. He studies the last still frame like he's memorizing it.
Tom turns toward me. "See you at two?"
"Site walk's at one-thirty."
"I'll be there at one-twenty."
The door closes behind him.
***
By Wednesday morning, I've decided our ground rules are actually working. Then my phone buzzes while I'm brushing my teeth, getting ready to leave for the office.
I rinse and glance at the screen.
