Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Harrison
“You want to tell me what this is?”
Henry slaps the piece of paper down onto my desk.
I don’t bother to look away from the email I’m typing. I have a pretty good idea what’s on that piece of paper.
“Hello to you, too.”
I click send on the email, push the keyboard away from me, and turn my head toward Henry.
With an exaggerated sigh, I pick up my glasses and slip them onto my face.
Then I lift the piece of paper. I don’t really need glasses most of the time—just when I’m tired.
Emotionally, physically, it doesn’t matter which.
My vision gets blurry when exhaustion hits.
I read the simple words on the paper:
Henry,
I quit.
Your brother is insufferable.
Jennifer
“It looks like a resignation to me.” I drop the letter back onto the desk and look at my older brother and business partner.
He shakes his head and slumps into the chair on the opposite side of my desk. “I know it’s a fucking resignation letter.”
“Okay, well, I have a lot of work to do, so…”
Henry pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, closing his eyes. He takes three deep breaths. I almost chuckle watching him try to keep it together—but I don’t.
A wave of guilt hits me. Henry could use help. An assistant would make his life easier.
“You wouldn’t have so much work to do if you’d let an assistant help you instead of pawning them off on me.”
“I was letting Jennifer help me, and Susan before her. What happened to them, I wonder? Oh, yeah, you chased them away with your grumpy ass.”
I lean back in my chair and fold my arms across my chest. “I told you I don’t need help. Hire someone just for you.”
“There’s not enough work with only my stuff to justify a full-time hire.
It’s hard to find someone who wants part-time hours and is mature enough to do the job right.
” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees.
“It has to be appealing. People want benefits; they want security. You can’t keep chasing off assistants and receptionists. ”
“I haven’t chased anyone off.” His eyebrows shoot up like he doesn’t believe me. “Are you being serious right now?”
“As a heart at—” He stops himself.
My chest tightens. It will always be too soon for that phrase.
“Listen,” he says, “Since Lucy retired, I’ve hired two different assistants. Both resigned—because of you.”
“That’s not true.”
Henry tilts his head and raises his eyebrows at me. “You do realize your resting bitch face can be intimidating to people who don’t know you, right?”
“They shouldn’t look at it, then.”
“Harrison, I swear to God, if you don’t start cooperating—”
“What? Why does it matter if I let someone touch my stuff? You’ve got most of the work that needs doing anyway.”
“No, I don’t! Look at that fucking pile of contracts that need finalizing.” He flings his hand toward my pile of work sitting to my left. “Have you gotten all the permits? How do you think you’re going to handle your workload and still make it to all the sites to make sure everything’s on track?”
“I’ve been getting it done.”
“Yeah? At what cost? You’re here all the fucking time, and you’ve been grumpier these last six weeks—ever since that conference—than you were before.”
A vice clamps around my chest. I don’t want to think about the conference. I can’t. I wish I didn’t care, but I do. It bothers me.
“That’s bullshit,” I mutter. “I’m the same guy I always was.” I don’t look at him when I say it because we both know it’s not true.
Whatever Betty did to get so into my mind fucking messed me up. What kind of man has a one-night stand where the woman leaves crying the next day?
“Jesus,” I mutter. “Was I really that bad?” I don’t realize I said it as loudly as I did until Henry responds.
“You’re not a bad person, Harrison,” he says, yanking me out of my spiral. Even his voice sounds tired.
“I have a fiancée who’s about to become my wife. I have two little girls. I want to spend time with my family. I need normal business hours. We can afford to hire someone to do the shit we don’t need to be doing ourselves.”
“It’s hard to find someone competent… and trustworthy,” I argue.
“A lot of it is clerical. You don’t have to let them do the entire books—”
“I don’t have to let them do anything,” I snap.
He groans and shakes his head at me. “Please don’t make me bring Layla in to force you to pull your head out of your ass.”
“That’s a low blow. You’re not gonna bring Ladybug in here to guilt-trip me into letting you hire someone. I don’t want anyone touching my stuff.”
He stares at me, silent. The seconds stretch on, and finally he stands. His shoulders slump, and his expression is blank. Then, he shakes his head.
“Look,” he says, “I know you don’t want certain things in life. Hell, I thought I didn’t either. You don’t want a wife. You don’t want kids. I get it. But I do. After everything with Dad, losing him so young… I want to spend every moment I can with my family.”
I tear my gaze away, staring down at my desk. I need a moment.
Losing Dad when I was just twenty—probably the age I needed him the most—still hurts in ways I can’t talk about. I shove the feelings down, force them away.
It must take me longer than I realize because Henry’s voice softens.
“It’s fine. I’ll find somebody part-time. Maybe I’ll use the temp agency.”
He walks out of the office without another word.
“Henry,” I call as he crosses the threshold.
He doesn’t turn back or respond.
That’s probably good, right?
It’s what I need. What I want.
I turn back to my computer screen and get back to work. Three hours later, my stomach growls.
I glance at my watch. “Fuck.”
No wonder I’m starving—it’s seven p.m. I’ve been working through contracts, permits, tax forms—things we need to keep the business running. I’ve gotten through maybe a third of the pile.
I rise, stretch, and gather the completed work, carrying it over to the small table in the corner of my office. I grimace when I look at it. I hadn’t realized how much had stacked up.
I set the new bunch to the right of the last one. That’s my system—piles by month. Easy to find anything if I need it before it’s filed.
There are seven piles. Meaning seven months of filing not yet done.
Jesus.
I need a couple of days to catch up. Maybe then Henry won’t be so irritated with me.
As I turn back toward my desk, I hear the faint sound of a folder slipping.
I spin, arms outstretched, but I’m not fast enough. I catch two files—barely—and the rest of a large stack crashes to the floor, scattering in every direction.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “Just what I need.”
Now I have to sort them all again.
I know. I know this is exactly the work an assistant could do.
But I hate the idea of someone else in my space, touching my stuff.
What if they mess something up? What if an important contract gets lost, or they don’t file a permit on time?
They’d have access to sensitive information.
I could screw everything up—for everyone.
I can’t trust someone enough to give up that control. This company supports our family. It’s how we take care of Mom. The company supports Henry’s growing family. It’s the livelihood for the twins.
It’s not just Henry and me anymore.
Holden’s our structural engineer. He might be a dick sometimes, but he loves this job. He’s worked nowhere else.
Hayden—Jesus, his wife just left him. Side note—another reason not to get involved with anyone. He’s the architect. We need him, and his designs are unreal.
I have to be on guard to make sure this company stays afloat.
A voice in the back of my head pipes up—low, sarcastic. “I call bullshit.”
I don’t know whose voice it is. It sure as hell isn’t mine. It feels like a little devil sits on my shoulder, telling me to screw it all. Telling me I’m fine, that it doesn’t matter.
But then there’s an angel on the other shoulder. The one that reminds me, our family is okay. We’ll continue to be all right, financially anyway. It says that the hinge my brothers and I invented and patented made us all multi-millionaires, which is kind of hilarious when I think about it.
A four-and-a-half-inch hinge set us up for life.
Unless, of course, I fuck up and put it all at risk again.