“He trusts you,” Mandy says quickly. “That’s why I brought you in.”
There’s a pause. “You’re the one he listens to,” she adds, a little softer now. “If you tell him it’s handled, he’ll back off.”
Rick shifts, like he’s weighing that. “Yeah. As long as it actually is.”
“It will be,” Mandy says. Then, more firmly, “It has to be.”
Rick’s tone turns practical. “Funding’s lined up. Build timeline’s aggressive, but doable. Once we’re open, the rest will fall into place.”
“Exactly.” Relief threads through her voice. “That’s all I’ve been saying. We just need to get it open.”
Another pause, then Rick exhales. “Then let’s keep it moving. The longer we stall, the more chances there are for questions.”
Mandy lets out a small laugh, a little brittle around the edges. “Then we don’t stall.”
Rick puts his hand at the small of Mandy's back and leads her back into the ballroom, fake smiles plastered in place.
What the hell did I just hear?
The conversation wasn't outright wrong. And somehow … that made it worse. They weren’t whispering or even hiding. If anything, they sounded … certain.
My phone buzzes in my hand, jolting me out of it.
Sam
Thanks for letting me help pick out the flooring. You didn’t have to let me be part of that. I noticed you haven’t used the card at all this week. Are you okay? Do you need anything?
I know I’ve messed up in more ways than I can count. But I still see you, Becca. Still love you. And I’m not giving up on us.
I read it once. Then again. Of course he noticed I haven't used our joint card. Of course he’s paying attention now. Tracking the spend, watching every dollar, tallying it all together.
Just like I always used to do. And damn it, part of me respects that. Wants to fold and acknowledge him. Because the thank you felt real, like he was grateful to be a part of the dream in a small way.
But then—I still see you.
A hollow laugh builds in my chest. Did he ever see me?
Did he see me when he handed off our savings like it was his to give? When he decided our future without me?
My grip tightens around the phone. I can’t afford softness right now. Softness doesn’t buy tile. Or paint. Or dignity.
Another buzz hits my palm.
I almost ignore it. It’s not Sam this time.
It’s a text from Holly.
Holly
Hey… random question. Do you know how to build a basic forecast? Rick said we don’t need one yet, but Sam asked about it.
Before I can answer, another text comes in.
Holly
Sorry, ignore me. I’m probably overthinking it.
My stomach drops. I stare at the message, thumb hovering over the screen. I know exactly how to answer her.
