My thumb hovered over her contact. What would I even say? Sorry I bailed on you and your son for a construction emergency? Sorry my business has to come first right now? The truth was, I wanted to be in both places at once, and the impossibility of that made me irrationally frustrated with the entire situation. I started typing.
Chase: Thinking of you. Hope you and Finn had a good night despite…
I deleted it. Too casual, like I hadn’t just disappointed them. Another attempt followed.
Chase: I’m really sorry about tonight. The inspection failure could have…
Delete. Now I was making excuses.
Finally, I pocketed my phone without sending anything. Harper’s silence felt weighted, significant in a way I wasn’t ready to examine too closely. When had the thought of disappointing her become as dismal as the prospect of a failed project?
The electrician arrived just after nine, a grizzled man named Ray, who greeted the disaster with a low whistle and a shake of his head. “Whoever wired this place should be banned from touching anything more complicated than a flashlight.” He leaned forward to examine the junction box.
“Agreed. Can you fix it tonight?” I asked.
Ray sized up the work, calculating. “I can get the north wall done. The rest will have to wait till morning.”
“Do what you can. I’ll be here until you finish tonight.”
While Ray worked, I used the time to review the resort renovation plans I’d meant to discuss with Harper. The flooring samples would need to be decided on by the end of the week to keep on schedule. Another deadline looming, another pressure point.
Marcus approached me around 10:30, fatigue evident in the slump of his shoulders. “Inspector confirmed for eleven in the morning, and drywall to start after lunch. Tile guy says he can still make Thursday if we get the bathroom finished by Wednesday night.”
“Good. You should head home. I’ll stay with Ray until he finishes.”
“You sure? You look wrecked.”
A wave of fatigue washed over me that I pushed back with everything in me. “Nothing coffee won’t fix. I’ll need to be back here at five anyway.”
After Marcus left, the site grew quieter. Just the sounds of Ray working and my own thoughts circling back to Harper. A part of me wanted her to understand thatsometimes business emergencies happened. Another part acknowledged the guilt swirling through me at her obvious disappointment.
Just past midnight, Ray finished with the north wall. “The rest has to wait. I’ll be back with the crew by six a.m.”
After he left, I did a final walk-through of the space. The reworked section looked good, up to code and properly done. One crisis partially averted. In my car, I set a watch alarm for 4:30 a.m., ensuring I’d be back before the crew arrived. I rested my head against the steering wheel for a moment, allowing myself five seconds of pure exhaustion before straightening up and starting the car. Three or four hours of sleep, then back to this site before heading to Sunset Siesta to face Harper. Whatever her reaction tomorrow—cold professionalism or warm understanding—I knew one thing for certain. Her opinion mattered more than I wanted it to.
And that scared me almost as much as the prospect of Latitudes Design failing before it truly began.
I squintedagainst the morning light as I ended the call with Marcus, the brightness amplifying my headache from too little sleep. “Just walk the inspector through everything we fixed. The documentation’s all there. Then call me when he signs off.” My voice sounded like I’d been gargling gravel, matching how I felt after less than three hours of sleep. The peaceful morning scene at Sunset Siesta—palm fronds swaying, early guests strolling toward breakfast—felt disconnected from my internal chaos. I needed coffee, a shower, and about twelve more hours of sleep. Instead, I was here to face Harper.
I slipped my phone into my pocket and took a deep breath. My reflection in the resort lobby’s glass doors confirmed what I already knew. I looked like hell. Dark circles underlined bloodshot eyes, and yesterday’s stubble had evolved into the beginning of an unintentional beard. My button-down shirt was already looking rumpled, even though it was straight from my closet. Not exactly the polished architect image I typically maintained, but right now I didn’t care about appearances.
The lobby was quiet, with only a young couple checking out and a staff member polishing the wooden coffee table. I nodded at the familiar face as I passed, making my way toward the hall where Harper’s office was located.
Her door stood partially open, a strip of warm light spilling into the hallway. I paused just outside, hearing the soft click of her keyboard as she worked. Normally, I’d knock, crack a joke, watch her face light up with that smile that had become increasingly important to me. I pushed the door open and stepped inside without announcement, deliberately closing it behind me. The soft click of the latch engaging felt significant, creating a private space for whatever conversation would follow.
Harper glanced up, my sudden entrance startling her. Her expression shifted quickly from surprise to wariness, her posture stiffening as she registered both my presence and my disheveled appearance.
“Chase,” she said in a carefully neutral tone.
I crossed the room in a few strides and stopped in front of her desk, not bothering with small talk. “Harper, about yesterday. I want to apologize again. Properly.”
She turned away from her keyboard to give me her full attention. The careful blankness of her expression mademy chest tighten as she folded her hands on her scribbled desk calendar.
“I look like I crawled out from under a construction site because I basically did,” I continued, resisting the urge to fidget. “The Franson project inspection failed catastrophically yesterday afternoon.”
Her expression softened somewhat, concern replacing some of the guardedness. “That sounds tough.”
“This wasn’t just some minor setback,” I explained, leaning forward with my palms on her desk. “William Franson is connected to half the high-end property developers in South Florida. If word got out that Latitudes Design couldn’t handle a fairly simple guest suite addition…” I shook my head. “It wasn’t a choice between clients. It was a potential catastrophe for my company. If I didn’t fix it immediately, the penalties and the damage to my reputation could have sunk me before I even got started.”
