Chapter Twelve
Mikkel
“In dreams and in love, there are no impossibilities.”
~ Janos Arnay
M eetings drained me.
One after the other, my morning had been spent smoothing out errors, perfecting documents, and ensuring no detail was out of place. I sat through a quarterly Zoom meeting with the board—same formalities, same pleasantries, same recycled concerns about market trends and expansion. I had answered their questions with ease, laid out projections, and reinforced Elite Rides’ dominance.
Still, frustration lingered. I had combed through everything at least thirty times, and each time, I found something that didn’t sit right. It grated on my nerves, an itch I couldn’t scratch, a flaw I couldn’t unsee.
The only thing keeping me sane was texting Abigail.
I never thought I’d be the guy lounging around the house, phone in hand, waiting for a reply like some lovesick teenager. But here I was, a lovesick adult , checking the screen between emails, a grin tugging at my lips every time her name popped up. The way she texted—sometimes quick, sometimes drawn—had me hooked. I swore I was past the age of getting giddy over a text, but every time my phone lit up, my heart kicked up a notch.
I liked it.
A little after noon, I finally pushed away from my desk. My suit was ready for pickup at Wilkes Bashford, and I needed a breather.
Just as I was about to head out, my mother stopped me at the door.
“ Hijo , 29 the engagement party is canceled.”
I frowned. “Canceled?”
She nodded. “ Tía Rosalina 30 called. It’s off, and I already called to have your suit sent to New York instead.”
“Alright then.” I kissed her cheek, not pressing for details. “ Gracias, Mamá. ” 31
With my evening suddenly free, I turned toward Emilia’s room, knocking once. No answer. I knocked again, then pushed the door open. Empty.
Hm.
Shrugging, I retreated to my room, grabbed the remote and flipped on You . I had cleared my schedule for this damn party, and now I had nothing to do but lounge around and let TV fill the silence.
Then, my phone buzzed.
Abigail.
The canceled party, the annoying meetings, the nitpicking—all of it faded as I opened her text, already feeling the grin forming on my face.
@abi_asher: You forgot me already? Lol.
Forget her? That was becoming more and more impossible.
Me: If only that were the case, Red .
@abi_asher: Hm?
Me: I had back to back meetings this morning.
@abi_asher: How was it?
Me: It was okay. Just a bit repetitive.
Me: How’s your day?
@abi_asher: I’ve been packing, so that’s fun.
Me: Packing? You’re leaving San Fran so soon?
@abi_asher: I’m moving to NYC permanently.
God’s on my side.
Me: Are you excited?
@abi_asher: Should I be?
Me: You should.
@abi_asher: Why?
me: Broadway shows, amazing pizza and great company.
@abi_asher: I’ll take your word for it.
“You look happy.”
I turned around. Emilia stood in the doorway, arms crossed.
Quickly, I texted Abigail: I’ll be back, my sister’s here.
Then, I laughed.
“What happened?” Emilia asked, stepping into the room. “You’re normally deep in a proposal.”
I rolled my eyes. “Are pigs flying, or are you actually talking to me, hermana ? 32 ”
She scoffed. “I just had about three Palomas from Mamá y papá restaurant, so I’m plied with enough alcohol.”
“Risky. Never knew you drank.”
She rolled her eyes and moved to sit on my bed, letting out a deep sigh.
“?Qué pasa?” 33 I asked.
She hesitated, then met my gaze. “I don’t hate you, Mikkel.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I don’t hate you,” she repeated, then paused before continuing. “Sometimes, I can’t handle my emotions, and I only turn to myself. That’s why I come off the way I do, but I don’t hate you. I couldn’t, hermano .” 34
Without thinking, I pulled her into a hug. “I know you have a lot going on. Sometimes, I just worry about you. Pero te quiero mucho .” 35
She nodded against my shoulder, hugging me back.
As we pulled apart, my phone rang. Morison.
I was about to decline when Emilia nudged me. “Go on. I’m going to help Mamá bake.”
While left, I stepped by the window, pressing the phone to my ear. “Morison, what’s up?”
“Payroll issue,” he said, frustration laced in his voice. “There’s a miscalculation, and I need your approval to override it.”
I sighed, rubbing my temple. “Send it over. I’ll look at it now.”
After reviewing the issue and signing off on the necessary adjustments, exhaustion hit me like a freight train. I barely made it onto the bed before sleep pulled me under.
When I woke up, the first thing I did was check my phone. Abigail had sent a message saying she was going to finish packing, to which I replied, Sorry about the abrupt pause earlier, I fell asleep. I hope packing isn’t too tiring.
I stretched and made my way downstairs, finding the house unusually quiet, with no one around. On the counter sat a bowl of rabo guisado and a plate of bunuelos —leftovers from whatever Mamá and Emilia had been cooking earlier. I ate in silence, the warm flavors settling comfortably in my stomach.
Back upstairs, Arnoldo and I sifted through legal documents, handling contract revisions and ensuring that everything was solid for the expansion pitch.
Then, finally, my phone pinged with a message from Abigail.
@abi_asher: I gave up halfway.
me: You tried, that’s all that matters.
@abi_asher: Trying to make me feel good about my failures?
me: Hardly a failure, Red.
@abi_asher: I’ll take your word for it.
me: You should. I don’t say things I don’t mean.
@abi_asher: Smooth.
me: Always.
me: How’s your trip going so far?
@abi_asher: It’s good.
@abi_asher: My mom made lasagna, so that made it even better.
@abi_asher: Lasagna’s one of my favorites, by the way.
me: Noted.
me: I’ll keep that in mind.
@abi_asher: In mind for what?
me: The future.
@abi_asher: Bold.
me: Too much?
There was a pause before she responded, and I smirked at my screen, wondering what was going through her mind.
@abi_asher: Nope.
@abi_asher: Just enough, actually.
I didn’t know if it was my words or the fact that she wasn’t shutting me down, but my pulse picked up.
@abi_asher: What’s your favorite meal from your mom?
me: La Bandera .
@abi_asher: Give me a second to Google.
me: No need. It’s our mother country’s national dish—rice, beans, meat, and veggies to match the flag. It sounds simple, but the way Mamá makes it? To die for.
@abi_asher: Dominican Republic, right?
me: Yes, you remembered.
@abi_asher: Of course.
A warm satisfaction settled in my chest. She’d remembered.
As the night went on, our messages became more frequent, the conversation flowing effortlessly. We swapped favorite songs, debated over music genres, and tossed recommendations back and forth.
At some point, her responses slowed.
me: I know you’re tired. Get some rest, Red.
@abi_asher: Mind reader. Talk tomorrow?
me: Of course. Sweet dreams.
@abi_asher: You too, Mikkel.
me: I will.
A lie.
I should’ve been sleeping for my flight tomorrow, but instead, I spent nearly two hours scrolling, searching for the perfect pictures and fonts for the playlist cover. Canva was a pain to deal with, but I finally managed to put something decent together. Unsure whether she used Apple Music or Spotify, I made versions for both, then started building the playlist until sleep finally overtook me.
The steady rain pattered against the car window as I joined an impromptu Zoom call with my team en route to the investor meeting. The city outside was blurred in streaks of water, matching the exhaustion tugging at me. Sapphire had sent a last-minute reminder about key discussion points, so I listened as we reviewed last week’s performance—an uptick in bookings, high customer satisfaction ratings, and seamless execution of our latest promotions.
Leaving Sacramento this morning had been a struggle, and the back-to-back travel was wearing on me. Chicago had its charms—hotdogs, deep-dish pizza, architecture—but I wouldn’t be here long enough to enjoy any of it.
By the time I entered the boardroom, the low murmur of conversation died instantly. The air was thick with calculation. Damon Ashford sat rigidly, his sharp gaze assessing, jaw clenched like he was already preparing a counterattack. Cataleya Nguyen was poised, exuding quiet authority, her pen tapping against the table in measured beats. And Marissa Lyles—the wildcard—was reclined, one arm draped over the chair like she’d already decided how this would go.
I took my seat at the head of the table. Calm. Controlled. Owning the room.
“Good afternoon,” I began, adjusting my cuffs. “Let’s get started. Elite Rides is expanding. We’ve perfected New York City, and now it’s time for the next step.”
Damon didn’t hesitate. “I’ve reviewed the numbers, and Chicago’s projections are ambitious. Do you really think you can maintain your edge, Suarez?”
I met his gaze without blinking. “We’re not aiming to ‘handle’ Chicago, Ashford. We’re aiming to own it. Just like we do New York. Our edge isn’t a question—it’s a guarantee.”
His expression didn’t shift, but I could see the wheels turning.
Cataleya leaned forward slightly. “And scalability? Expanding too fast can be a death sentence. How do you avoid stretching your resources too thin? ”
I nodded, already anticipating the concern. “We’ve built an expansion team dedicated to each city—separate from New York operations. Every location has localized strategies, key partnerships, and infrastructure in place before launch. We don’t stretch thin—we scale smart.”
Marissa cocked her head, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Ambition is great, but speed kills. Scaling too fast can dilute exclusivity. How do you keep quality high?”
I leaned forward, voice even but firm. “Elite Rides doesn’t sacrifice quality. Ever. Our exclusivity is built into the experience—from rigorous driver training to customer personalization. Our data-driven approach refines the service as we expand. The bigger we get, the better we get.”
Damon snorted. “Bold words. I want specifics. When will Chicago go live?”
“Four weeks from today. Beta testing is already underway. On launch day, we’ll be fully operational and dominating the market.”
Cataleya arched her brow. “And if Chicago doesn’t go as planned?”
I didn’t miss a beat. “We don’t hit roadblocks, Cataleya. We pivot. Chicago is just the start—we’re already laying the groundwork in our next locations. We don’t enter markets to participate. We enter to disrupt and win.”
Marissa studied me, her smirk deepening. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”
I held her gaze. “I do. And let’s be clear—investing in Elite Rides means investing in the future of urban mobility. Either you’re on board, or you’re standing in the way of progress. This is happening—with or without you.”
Silence.
They were calculating, but I knew they saw it. This wasn’t a risk—it was an inevitability.
Damon exhaled slowly, then leaned back, nodding once. “I’m in.”
Cataleya followed. “Same here.”
Marissa’s smile widened. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a deal.”
I stood, shaking their hands. “Good choice. ”
As I exited the room, adrenaline still hummed in my veins. The deal was done. The expansion was locked in. Another city in my pocket.
I reached for my phone to share the update with Sapphire, but before I could, my pocket buzzed.
I glanced down.
Abigail.
An involuntary smile tugged at my lips.
Her text was brief—letting me know she’d be unavailable today because of a family trip and packing—but it meant more than she probably realized. She didn’t have to tell me. But she did.
I exhaled, leaning against the cool marble wall. The sharp focus of the boardroom was already softening, shifting into something else entirely. She lingered in my thoughts like an unshakable presence. And I was completely at peace with that.