Chapter 26
“Jeez, Cynthia, does every project you work on begin as the set of a low-budget porn movie?”
Cynthia managed to elbow Naomi in the ribs before her friend stepped deeper into what would, one day, be Kashmiri Palace after a lot of work.
Because whomever had chosen the décor for the previous business—an after-hours cocktail lounge if Cynthia remembered correctly—must have been inspired by a BDSM dungeon complete with studded red leather booths and red-and-black damask wallpaper.
Regretting that she’d chosen a leather, military-style blazer for this particular site visit, Cynthia crossed her arms over her chest and bit her lip nervously as Naomi drew a squiggle on the dusty bar with her finger.
“It would be a complete renovation,” she said, hurrying to Naomi’s side and tapping through the screen of her tablet until she found the blueprint for the Kashmiri Dining Group’s new restaurant.
“Like your work on Gia’s Bazaar. You’d be starting from scratch.
” When Naomi didn’t respond, the first stab of disappointment sliced through her.
“I know it’s a big job,” she added, pushing the tablet into Naomi’s hands.
“And I know it’s a tight timeline but…I just need… ”
Cynthia forced her mouth shut and took a step back. It wasn’t like her to hover or ramble. But as she watched Naomi purse her lips as she flipped through the specs, Cynthia could admit to herself—even if only silently—that she very badly needed Naomi’s buy-in.
Collaboration was not on Cynthia’s very long list of professional strengths and yet here she was, hope churning in her stomach that Naomi would agree to take on fifty percent of the contract for this new restaurant.
She’d brought Naomi in today under the same pretext she’d told Rohit after their picnic in the park—that she was currently slammed with playing catch-up after tackling an important internal task at Kumar Construction.
And while this was all true, Cynthia knew there was more to it than that.
It was as if a new heaviness had settled in her bones, one that pulled her back from being the first to speak up when Leering Larry said something stupid and borderline sexist, and slowed her pace as she raced the clock to meet with her many, many clients.
Kashmiri Palace, with its sex dungeon beginnings, wasn’t the only thing that felt like too much these days. What a strange feeling it was, confronting her growing feelings of fatigue and burnout. And asking for help.
Not that she needed Naomi’s help. She could do it on her own. She was more than capable of—
No. Cynthia admonished herself with a quick shake of her head.
Look what happened the last time you thought you were better off without help.
And yet the word alone left a funny taste in her mouth.
Years of conditioning herself to do and be everything so no one would think twice about a woman’s place at the head of the table, and here she was, hope, anticipation, and disappointment competing for real estate in her insides.
She wanted nothing more than for Naomi to say yes .
It was enough to push Cynthia to go for broke. “I just need help,” Cynthia finished. Although the words made her throat feel tight and her mouth dry, she was surprised that they tasted much better when said out loud. They were more than palatable; they were necessary . It was okay to need help.
Cynthia licked her lips. “I know that you’re busy planning the wedding and that your plate is already full, but—”
“Cynthia.” Naomi’s voice was gentle. “It’s not that or any of things you’re worried about. I’m trying to figure out what my contractor might say.”
“Your contractor?”
Naomi’s eyebrows knitted. “Well, yeah. I figured, when you explained why you’d want to bring me on, that you’d want me to oversee the demolition and rebuild, too.”
Cynthia could practically feel every single muscle in her body expand and relax, relief pulling her shoulders away from her ears. “So, are you in? You’ll do this with me?”
“Well, yeah, this is a great opportunity…”
“But?”
“But I think we should hear Nick’s opinion first. That’s my contractor’s name, Nick Santiago. I meant for you to meet him this morning but of course, as usual, he’s late. I swear, that man—”
As if on cue, the entrance of the restaurant swung open and a tall, handsome guy strolled in.
“Nick!” Naomi said, her hands on her hips. “I hate when you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Your sense of timing is so annoying.” Naomi glanced at Cynthia and hastened to add, “But his timing is impeccable, too. I swear, he will work miracles in the time he’s given to complete the job. I’ve known this guy professionally for years and—”
“You’re rambling,” Nick sang in an impressive and surprisingly melodious tenor.
Cynthia wasn’t sure if it was the number of rom-coms she’d watched with Rohit or not, but, to her, Nick looked like a stereotypical contractor from a Hallmark movie.
Tall, fit, and with linebacker shoulders, he was wearing a flannel shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, to boot.
He looked relaxed, with just a touch of mischievousness, as he ribbed Naomi with a glint in his dark green eyes.
All he needed was a small town and a family farm to save.
“Shut up, Nicky.” Naomi’s hip bumped him back. “He’s very professional,” she assured Cynthia. “I promise. With the timeline and budget you indicated, I think he’s the right person for the job.”
Cynthia quirked her eyebrow as she eyed Nick. “You did Gia’s, too, didn’t you?”
With a wink, Nick quirked his eyebrow right back. “Yep.”
“I love the finish of the countertops there,” Cynthia said. “Honed, right?”
“Yes!” Nick said with a delighted grin. This time he nudged Naomi. “See? I told you matte would be worth the splurge.”
Naomi rolled her eyes. “Cynthia is the queen of interior design. Of course she’d notice.”
Despite the playful exchange, Cynthia could feel her shoulder blades pulling tight again as she waited for Nick’s response to Naomi’s decree.
Her friend’s compliments were one thing, but Cynthia had dealt with contractors before, had jumped through hoops many times in the past to prove to them she knew what she was talking about, that she knew more than what colors were trending and which fabrics were the most stain-resistant.
All those contractors had been men who did not take too kindly to a woman—especially a younger one—making calls and reviewing their work with a fine-tooth comb, or, in Cynthia’s case, a compact leveler that she kept in her purse.
But Nick surprised her. “I can tell she knows her shit,” he said, wandering deeper into the dining room. “You don’t rock a blazer like that if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
He was probably kidding, but the throwaway compliment leaped straight into Cynthia’s chest cavity and did absurd, mortifying, wonderful things there. She wanted to laugh with relief. Or maybe cry. She wasn’t sure.
Was this what it was like working with people who accepted her insight and applauded her intelligence?
For the first time, maybe ever, the knot that normally sat behind Cynthia’s sternum—the one that pulled her posture ramrod straight and urged her to stay three steps ahead of everybody in the room or risk having everything she wanted unravel—eased. She could relax.
She could relax at work and just be herself. It was an odd feeling and Cynthia couldn’t help but eye the room, contemplating if she should sit down for a moment.
Better not. Who knew what had happened in those studded-leather booths?
“You want to gut the entire place?” Nick called from the rear of the dining room, stooping to examine the undersides of the floating shelves on the back wall.
“The whole thing,” Cynthia confirmed, wincing before adding, “in a month’s time.”
She waited for Nick to scoff, to laugh that patronizing contractor laugh she’d heard many times before when she mentioned a tight turnaround.
What followed was usually a condescending breakdown of why her demands were unachievable, forcing her to reevaluate her schedule and, in most cases, bend over backward trying to accommodate everyone else to get the job done.
But Nick tilted his head, considering, and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Is the kitchen back there?” At Cynthia’s confirmation, he headed around the corner.
Once he was out of sight, Naomi handed the tablet back to Cynthia. “I know, he seems way too laid-back, but he’s the best I’ve ever worked with, I swear.”
“I trust you,” Cynthia said simply. “And your judgment.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
As if on instinct, Cynthia’s stance widened ever so slightly, and she braced herself. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Naomi made her wait three long, excruciating seconds as she traced another line down the bar with her fingertip before answering. “Oh, I don’t know,” she finally said, her tone nonchalant. “You don’t trust me enough to mention that you…”
“That I what?”
“Had sex last night.”
Cynthia gasped. “How’d you know?”
Her friend’s face brightened. “I’m right, aren’t I? I knew it! A married woman always knows.”
“You’re not married yet.”
Naomi raised her left hand, fanned her fingers, and wiggled them obnoxiously so her engagement ring sparkled under the room’s task lighting. “It was Rohit, wasn’t it? How was it?”
“I’m not answering that.” Cynthia fought the telltale grin spreading across her face.
“I knew it!” Naomi squealed and grasped Cynthia’s shoulders. “Your face is practically glowing! Even your hair looks shinier. Was it good?”
A slow heat curled through Cynthia’s body, unfurling through her with the lazy grace of a cat stretching in the sun. It was a pleasant warmth, one that had the power to seep into one’s veins so that everything felt cozy and secure.
Cynthia stopped trying to hide her smile.
“ That good, huh?” Naomi’s eyebrows lifted in excitement.
“Again, I am not answering that,” Cynthia repeated.
Nick strolled out of the kitchen, a measuring tape in his hands. “Not answering what?” he asked. “Questions about the fantastic sex you had last night?” He grinned. “Naomi, you are so inappropriate.”
“Nicky!” Naomi slapped Nick’s arm as Cynthia covered her face with her hands and laughed.
“I heard everything,” he admitted with zero contrition on his face. “In addition to the unmatched skill in my hands, I have excellent ears. And eyes. How else do you think I correctly predicted when Naomi and Dev would do the nasty?”
Naomi swiped at Nick’s arm again and Cynthia could tell, from his slight wince, that it was much harder this time. “You did not.”
“Please, you guys were so obvious.” Nick threw Cynthia an exaggerated wince. “My crew was taking bets.”
“I take back everything I said about this guy being any kind of professional,” Naomi grumbled.
“On that note,” Nick said, gesturing toward the kitchen, “we’ll have to soundproof the kitchen properly so the diners don’t hear what’s going on in the back.
” He shrugged apologetically as he waited for that info—and the accompanying dollar signs—to sink in, then turned to Cynthia with an innocent smile. “So, was it fantastic?”
Her brain reeling from Nick and Naomi’s rapid-fire exchange in addition to the shocking realization that she was actually having fun on the job, Cynthia squinted in confusion. “Was what fantastic?”
Nick’s grin was wicked. “The sex, of course.”
When Cynthia pressed her lips together and shook her head, he held out his hand with an overdramatic sigh. “Okay, let’s see.”
“What?” Cynthia asked, shooting an uncertain glance at Naomi.
“The guy, obviously.”
“You might as well,” Naomi advised. “He’s relentless when it comes to gossipy things.”
Cynthia pulled out her phone and swiped through her most recent photos.
She was more than a little disappointed to find that despite having spent the better part of the last four weeks with Rohit, she had failed to capture more than a handful of selfies with him.
She was even more disheartened to realize that most of her photos were work-related: the rows of images showed buildings, before-and-afters, furniture samples, and pictures of business cards.
The images were reminders of the work she had done and hoped to do, of the future she had been chasing for years without really realizing that, once lined up under her seeking finger, it was all just a dull, meaningless blur.
Cynthia enlarged a selfie she had taken with Rohit a few nights ago when he’d spontaneously challenged her to an axe-throwing competition at a local rec room.
With his appalling lack of aim, Cynthia had done the bare minimum to wipe the floor with him.
He’d laughed, then bought her a bubble tea as a reward.
It wasn’t a particularly special moment, but as Cynthia took in the happy crinkles in his eyes, the carefree way she pressed a kiss to his cheek, her eyes half-closed and the picture off center because perfection had been the last thing on her mind, she realized it meant everything to her.
And she wanted more of this. More of him.
She smiled proudly as she passed the phone to Nick so he could see what Rohit looked like.
Nick whistled as he studied the phone. “Damn,” he said. “First Dev, now this guy. Should I be dating more brown dudes?”
Cynthia and Naomi traded grins. “Yes,” they said in unison.