Chapter 3 Gabriel
“What the hell happened to you last night?” my cousin Roman asks, his tone half curious, half accusatory. I don’t look up right away. I’m too focused on the outlets that we’ll have to rip out of the building we’ve been working on for months.
The wiring is outdated, it’s practically a fire hazard, which means redoing the whole place is the only option to get this up to code and ensure it doesn’t burn down as soon as we get tenants.
It’s the kind of costly, time-consuming problem that makes me want to light the whole building up in flames myself and start over.
This flip was already shaping up to be a challenge, and now we’re diving into electrical work, which for the record, isn’t in mine or my cousin’s wheelhouse. To be frank, nothing is in Roman’s wheelhouse except making loads of money, delegating tasks and balancing checkbooks.
Thankfully, I have a guy who knows how to fix this. I just hope he’s available so that we don’t have even more delays to the project.
“It’s going to be expensive to fix this shit,” I mutter, shaking my head at the mess.
Roman leans against the wall, arms crossed, his brow raised in that way he always does when he knows I’m dodging his question. “You’re avoiding the subject.”
“No, I’m trying to work.”
It’s our first real flip since my sisters and I sold everything in our parents’ thrift store and the building before putting the profit toward me starting my own business. I’m still adjusting to this new chapter in my career and life and the last thing I want is for it to fail.
Letting go of the shop had been a mutual decision but it was still bittersweet to hand the keys over to the new owners who are turning it into a hardware store.
We’d outgrown it, and our lives had shifted in ways that made keeping up with the website, refurbishing projects and storefront practically impossible.
My sister Rhiannon has her hands full juggling her therapy practice, her high-powered entertainment lawyer husband, Cain, their baby girl, and now a second pregnancy.
Eden, my youngest sister, is knee-deep in her senior year of college and barely has time to sleep, let alone refinish old furniture with me.
And Natasha, Roman’s sister and my cousin, who used to help manage the storefront between her bar shifts, is now running the most popular bar in Brookhaven like it’s her own empire.
The shop had been a piece of our past, a final tether to our parents who we lost too young in a tragic car accident, but it was time to let go and take a big leap forward.
That leap led me straight into co-owning Carpenter Cousin’s Construction with my cousin Roman and purchasing this abandoned building for dirt cheap.
Of course, the reason it was cheap is because of the amount of work we’ll need to put into fixing it.
My background as a project manager in New York City construction made me the obvious choice to run the show for renovations and design, while Roman’s taken the lead on the sales, marketing and finances.
He’s spent the last fifteen years in Miami real estate, buying up homes and commercial properties the second they hit the market, flipping them fast, and turning obscene profits.
It’s a skill he learned from his father, a wildly successful real estate mogul and a man Roman and Natasha want nothing to do with these days. I can’t blame them. When my dad, his brother, and our mom passed away unexpectedly, he did nothing to help us out. Practically acted like we never existed.
But to Roman’s credit, he took that blueprint his father showed him and ran with it. For the past two years straight, he’s landed on the list of self-made billionaires in the U.S. under forty.
This project is different, though. The plan isn’t just luxury for the elite.
We want to sell these renovated units to families across a range of income levels.
In a prime location. With actual access.
That’s why we’re putting a daycare inside the building.
A coffee shop. Even keeping the bar that came with the purchase and integrating it into the design instead of gutting it.
Thinking about that bar reminds me of the woman I met there last night…
Roman cuts into my thoughts with another snarky remark. “Call your electrician. I don’t care. Just make sure he understands he needs to do the job fast and under budget. I need to fly back to Florida, and I want this shit looking better when I’m back in a few weeks.”
“Yes, because quality isn’t important,” I mumble, standing and stretching my lower back that never seems to get loose enough when I take my bike into the city.
Roman brings the vision. The strategy. And most of the funding.
I bring the blue-collar hands and the grit that rallies people together to finish the work.
Originally, we were on track to have the first units ready to rent or buy in eight months.
Now, if I don’t get these renovations back under control, that eight months is going to start looking like eight years.
“I’ll call him as soon as I leave here.”
He gives me a curt nod and punches something into his phone angrily.
I can guarantee it’s a text or an email bitching about one of his hundreds of projects.
Roman’s focus will always be split between New York and Florida and frankly I prefer it that way.
I love my older cousin, but sometimes his presence can be suffocating.
“Maybe if you spent less time in Brookhaven,” he starts, but then an incoming call comes through interrupting his sentence. “What!?” he barks into it. “I fucking told you put the fence in, or the buyers won’t want it because of the pool.”
There’s a pause while I walk to the opposite side of the room, inspecting the flooring that just got delivered that I’ll need my crew to install later today. It looks good and thankfully none of it was damaged in the transport from the west coast which I count as a big win.
Roman sighs and glares at me like I’m the cause of his problems. “Just take care of it. I need to be in New York for a bit, but I’ll be back and if it’s not fixed, you’re fired.” Another pause. “Fine. Bye.”
Roman’s not wrong about my focus being split too.
I’ve been casually buying up homes in Brookhaven, my small hometown just two hours from the city in Connecticut.
It’s the perfect blend of picturesque charm and practical opportunity, with its growing population of ex-city dwellers searching for affordable housing and scenic living.
And I want to be on the forefront of this small-town renaissance.
But balancing my time between there and our project in New York is no small feat and I’m exhausted.
To say I’m overwhelmed would be putting it lightly and to make matters even worse, his sister Natasha purchased her first property in Brookhaven.
A cute little purple house with a picket fence and a dock that stretches out to the lake.
But like most of the homes in Brookhaven that have been weathered by the elements and the breeze off the lake that our town surrounds, it needs work. Serious work. And I simply don’t have the time to do it all with everything that’s piling up on my plate.
Roman comes over to where I’m crouched looking at the floor.
“I’ve been meaning to ask, why don’t you have Jack help Natasha with the renovations that her home needs?”
Roman lets out a sound that reminds me a lot of a growl. I roll my eyes. Roman’s been a dick to his stepbrother from the moment his dad cheated on his mom and got his mistress pregnant twenty-seven years ago. I guess that’s not changing anytime soon.
“No.”
“When are you going to let your grudge against him go?”
“Never.”
I chuckle. “It’s one-sided, you know? He didn’t ask to be conceived.”
“I don’t care.”
“Fine. But it’ll be a while until I can get to the things she needs fixed, and her house is rough. Jack’s been doing renovations for years. He’s completely capable.”
“I don’t care,” he repeats again, his dark eyes glaring at me.
I chuckle and shake my head before standing to face him again. “Your old angry broody thing doesn’t faze me. And stop talking to me like I’m one of your employees. We’re partners on this project. I’ve been letting it slide, but you’re getting on my last fucking nerve with the attitude.”
That gets a smile out of him. “Where did you go last night?” he asks me again. And clearly, he’s not dropping that.
“I wasn’t expecting you to show up.”
Roman huffs. “After that guilt trip you gave me about not showing up for our employees, how could I skip it? Plus, then I would have missed out on that big, heartfelt speech you gave about new beginnings and how this year’s gonna be a game-changer for the business.
I tried to find you to tease you about it, but you were gone.
You didn’t even stick around to have a celebratory drink. ”
“Yeah, just wasn’t feeling the best,” I say, brushing him off.
“It was Friday night. You never stick around in the city after work for a drink, let alone with me when I’m in town.”
“Since when have you ever cared about spending time with me outside of this project?”
He slings an arm around my shoulder, the obnoxious business guy nowhere to be found now. “I’ve always loved hanging with you. I’m just an important guy.”
I shrug him off.
Maybe me leaving early had something to do with the woman who kissed me and made me feel things I haven’t felt in years. Hell, maybe things I’ve never felt before.
The memory of her is like a splinter lodged in my brain. It’s nagging, sharp and been impossible to ignore. Everything about her is throwing me off. Who was she? Why was she at our private employee holiday event? And why did she run just as soon as she finished kissing me?