Chapter 4
Gwen
Gwen was early to the office, even by her own standards.
She parked in the side lot, slipped in through the alley entrance, and bypassed the espresso machine entirely.
Her desk light was the only one on, a soft triangle of gold in a sea of darkened offices.
She liked it that way. Quiet. Controlled. Predictable.
She always missed her Austin office when Melinda had her travel somewhere else. Although having Melinda in Denver last week had been a welcome sense of home, Gwen very much preferred not to be anywhere but in Austin, near her family.
Her inbox was already flooded with feedback on the renderings she’d cranked out in a midnight rush, sprawled in the rock-hard guest bed.
The comments were mostly minor nitpicks.
A few questions about materials. Nothing she couldn’t handle.
She made a few notes, toggled between CAD files, then closed it all with a sigh.
Her eyes drifted to the calendar app in the corner of her screen.
Her mom had confirmed she’d still love to watch the kids for the weekend, and Gwen had submitted the PTO request last night. The Vegas trip was blocked in green.
She still hadn’t figured out why she’d said yes.
It had been a reflex more than a decision — everyone was already cheering, Maggie had frozen, and Gwen had just…
gone with it all. Now, it sat inside her like a pebble in a shoe, small and persistent.
Part of her regretted it. Part of her didn’t.
There was a strange thrum of anticipation beneath the unease, like she was waiting for something to shift.
Maybe it would be a disaster. Maybe it would help.
Maybe, for once, she was allowed not to know.
Melinda knocked once and leaned in. She looked as polished as ever, in high-waisted trousers and a cream blouse that should’ve been too formal for Austin but somehow looked effortlessly chic on her. Her dark hair was twisted up and clipped, stray curls escaping along her temples.
“You’re here early.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Gwen said, forcing a half smile.
“What’s this new PTO request I’m seeing? I didn’t know you even knew how to submit PTO,” Melinda teased.
Gwen hesitated. “Maggie’s college friends are having a bachelorette weekend in Vegas.”
Melinda raised an eyebrow. “The ones from Denver that I forced you to see last week?”
Gwen nodded.
“You’re willingly attending a bachelorette party?” Melinda gave her a blank look, like she was trying to envision it.
“It’s a queer bachelorette party. There will be spreadsheets. And backup snacks. Possibly helmet rentals. It’s not that kind of party.”
“Uh-huh.” Melinda slid her hands into her pockets. “Just make sure someone else covers the rezoning call Monday. You going to need more days off before or after?”
“No,” Gwen said. “Just this weekend.”
Melinda studied her a moment longer, then gave a short nod. “You look like someone who could use it.”
Once she was gone, Gwen stood, stretched, and grabbed her phone. Her brother, Logan, had called twice yesterday. She owed him a conversation.
She stepped outside, letting the glass door thump shut behind her, and wandered to the edge of the plaza across the street. The sun was already hot, casting sharp shadows along the pavement. The firm’s building was sleek, modern, glassy… and completely lacking warmth.
Across the street, the old red-brick church stood stubborn and lovely, its steeple a jagged silhouette against the sky. Gwen had once biked past it nearly every day during undergrad and then her early years at the firm. She hadn’t even realized she’d missed that until now.
Her phone buzzed.
“There she is,” Logan said, voice wry. “You finally remembered how phones work.”
“Hi,” Gwen said. “Sorry. It’s been a week.”
“It’s Monday morning at 7:32 a.m.”
“Exactly.”
Gwen started pacing slowly, heel to toe along the concrete planter. “I did something.”
“Oh god. Did you murder someone at work? Do I need to google how to hide a body on a burner phone or something? Where do you even buy a burner phone?”
“The internet?” Gwen guessed. “Or, I don’t know, you live in Manhattan, I’m sure there’s a back alley with a guy in a trench coat lined with burner phones somewhere near you.”
“I am not googling ‘where to buy burner phone NYC’ on my personal device immediately before you’re arrested for murdering a coworker,” Logan said dramatically.
Gwen grinned, rolling her eyes. “Okay, it’s worse than murder. It may possibly result in my own murder.”
“Worse than murder… Did you finally say yes to Jude wanting white-kid dreadlocks?” Logan asked.
Gwen laughed. “God, no. No, I mean, I said yes to going with Maggie’s friends on a bachelorette weekend in Vegas.”
There was a pause.
“And… Maggie is also going? The friends you’ve complained about not knowing you’re separated?” Logan clarified slowly.
Gwen made a noise of affirmation.
“Gwen…” Logan said softly, like he was waiting for more.
“Everyone assumed I was coming. Maggie didn’t correct them. I just… went along with it.”
Logan snorted. “That’s incredible. Honestly. Think of it this way, a destination weekend surrounded by people disgustingly in love… It’s a recipe for making Maggie fall right back into your arms if you play it right.”
Gwen groaned. “That wasn’t my plan.”
“Oh, please. It’s genius. Vacation brain plus nostalgia plus alcohol? All you need is one heartfelt slow dance or near-death gambling experience, and she’ll be halfway to proposing again.”
Gwen laughed, a short, tired sound. “You’re ridiculous.”
Logan sighed. “You’re still in love with your wife. Just own it. Have fun. Look good. Be competent. Don’t get heatstroke. Maybe wear a tank top. You’ll be fine.”
Gwen let her eyes wander back to the church steeple. “She doesn’t want to talk about anything real. Every time we get close, even in therapy, she just shuts the door.”
“That’s why you’re going where real life doesn’t exist, so you might actually get somewhere.”
Gwen kicked at a loose pebble. “I don’t want to manipulate her.”
“You’re not. You’re just showing her a different way. Big difference.”
“When did you start therapy?” Gwen teased.
“I watch a lot of TV,” Logan said. “And I’m very wise. But really, you don’t have to manipulate her into realizing that you’re meant to be together. You just have to remind her why she chose you in the first place.”
Gwen wasn’t sure she agreed. But the part of her that wanted Maggie to say something, do something — anything — was louder than the part that wanted to take the high road.
She glanced up at the firm’s building again. Its sterile exterior glared back at her.
“Okay,” she said. “Then I guess I’m going to Vegas.”
“Damn right you are,” Logan said, catching her up on his day and recent drama with his own work. The familiarity of hearing about something completely apart from her felt nice. Then, suddenly, he gasped. “I think I just saw a pigeon pickpocket someone.”
“Stay vigilant,” Gwen joked. “Okay, I’ve got to go back in.” They said their quick goodbyes and Gwen hung up, still smiling, and headed back toward the revolving glass door.
Maybe Logan was onto something. Not with pickpocketing pigeons, but with Vegas being a new chance to prove to Maggie that their marriage was still a gamble worth taking.