Chapter 5
GABRIEL
Knox’s textarrived Monday morning at seven forty-five, while Gabriel was driving to work.
Knox: My car’s still in the shop. I need a ride to Park Slope. Devney wants fresh danish from that bakery for the ten o’clock meeting.
Gabriel stopped at a red light and answered.
Gabriel: Which bakery?
Knox: Flour & Honey. Devney’s obsessed with the place. I’m supposed to pick up the standing order.
Gabriel: Can’t she send someone else?
Knox: Apparently this requires my “personal touch.” Her words. Also, she wants me to try some new honey almond thing the baker’s testing.
Gabriel: She can’t fire you if you don’t go.
Knox: She said she’d make my life miserable until Ronan did it for her. Same result.
Gabriel stared at his phone.
Park Slope was two blocks from Tessa’s coffee shop. It was the neighborhood where he had run into her last Thursday, where they had sat across from each other and pretended they were capable of casual conversation.
He had managed to avoid thinking about her for approximately six consecutive hours over the weekend, a personal record achieved through aggressive contract review and a gym session that had left his trainer concerned about his cardiovascular limits.
The light changed. He pulled into a parking garage near Oath Capital. Park Slope was a big neighborhood. The odds of running into her again were minimal. He was picking up danish, not camping out at her coffee shop hoping for another accidental encounter. That would be pathetic.
Gabriel: When?
Knox: Eight thirty. Gives us time to pick up and get back before the meeting.
Gabriel: I’m at the office. I’ll swing by.
Gabriel spent the next forty-five minutes pretending to focus on emails. At eight twenty, he gave up and grabbed his keys.
Knox was waiting outside his building when Gabriel pulled up at eight thirty, phone pressed to his ear, looking like whoever was on the other end had personally offended him and his entire bloodline.
“I don’t care if the timeline’s aggressive. That’s why you’re being paid.” Knox slid into the passenger seat without breaking stride in his conversation. “Find a way to make it work, or I’ll find someone who can.”
He ended the call and looked at Gabriel. “Contractors. They act like moving a wall requires an act of God and a blessing from the Pope.”
“It’s your apartment.”
“It’s a box with windows and terrible lighting. I’m trying to make it habitable.” Knox buckled his seatbelt. “How was your weekend? Thrilling, I assume.”
“I reviewed contracts and went to the gym.”
“Naturally. Because that’s what normal people do on weekends.” Knox checked his phone. “Take Seventh. It’s called Flour & Honey.”
Gabriel pulled into traffic toward Brooklyn. Monday morning meant stop-and-go progress, everyone commuting with their coffee and their Monday dread.
Knox scrolled through something on his phone, then looked up. “You’ve been weird since the wedding.”
Gabriel kept his eyes on the road. “I haven’t been weird.”
“You’ve checked your phone forty-seven times during meetings this week. You’re never on your phone during meetings.” Knox’s voice carried that casual tone he used when he was anything but casual. “And Thursday you came back from checking on my construction crew looking like you’d eaten gas station sushi.”
