Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Esteban
It’s been a few days since we told everyone about our relationship.
And somehow we’ve survived.
More than that, we’re good. I’ve never felt this grounded in something, this sure.
Eva and I don’t have to hide anymore. We’ve been soaking in the freedom, walking everywhere we go hand in hand, kissing in public like we invented the concept.
She even snuck into my office two days ago just to bring me coffee and make out like we were back in high school. I haven’t stopped smiling since.
Right now, though, I’m trying to focus. I’m at my desk with blueprints spread out like a dinner menu and emails fighting for attention. I’m halfway through a zoning report when I hear a knock.
Payton leans into my office, tablet in one hand, phone in the other. “Boss,” she says, eyes wide. “McNeal just called.”
That gets my attention. I look up. “And?”
“He wants to meet. Dinner. Tonight. You, Noah, and Austin.”
I blink. “For real?”
She nods. “Just got off the phone with Noah. He said to tell you—and I quote—‘tell loverboy he better wear a shirt with buttons and try not to be a dumbass.’”
Huffing a laugh, I drag a hand over my face. “Classic Noah.”
Payton smiles and turns to leave. “I’ll send the reservation info when I get it.”
“Thanks, Payton.”
As soon as she’s gone, I grab my phone and open my messages.
Me: McNeal wants to meet with us tonight.
My Girl: That’s good news
Me: It could be. Or it could be that he doesn’t want to do business with us.
My Girl: Wear the navy button-up. I love that one. And don’t forget deodorant. No one signs contracts with a sweaty man.
Me: Noted. I’m only doing this for you.
My Girl: And the multimillion-dollar deal?
Me: Right. That too.
I sit back in my chair and stare out the window. My heart’s doing that low thrum thing it does when something big is coming. Good or bad, I don’t know yet. But I’m ready.
At least I’ve got the girl. Now I just need the deal.
The restaurant is the same one we came to the first time we met. It’s a dimly lit place that smells like money and perfectly cooked steak. I’m standing outside with Noah and Austin, all of us in suits, all of us pretending not to be nervous and failing.
Austin’s shifting from foot to foot like he’s got ants in his pants, and Noah’s got his arms crossed so tightly it looks like he’s trying to keep himself from exploding.
I shove my hands in my pockets and glance at both of them.
“Well, boys. Time to shine. Deal or no deal, we’ll be okay.”
Noah lets out a breath. “Easy for you to say. You’ve got the charm. I’ve got heartburn.”
Austin grunts. “Let’s just get this over with. I hate waiting.”
“Same,” I say, pushing the door open.
We step inside, and the hostess leads us to a private table in the back. McNeal isn’t here yet.
We sit.
And we wait.
No one says a word. The silence stretches like a tightrope between us. I can feel the tension bouncing off Austin and Noah. Even I can’t pretend I’m cool. My leg’s bouncing under the table like it has a mind of its own.
I glance at the door every two seconds, silently begging McNeal to just walk in already so we can get this over with.
Finally, after what feels like a damn hour, he arrives.
He walks in looking sharp as ever, cool and calm like this is just another night for him. But what makes my stomach tighten is the man walking beside him, a guy in a sleek black suit, mid-50s, with dark slicked-back hair and a serious expression.
We all stand.
McNeal offers a smile as he approaches. “Gentlemen. Thank you for meeting me.”
He turns slightly and gestures to the man beside him.
“This is my lawyer, Marcus Johaneson. After our last meeting, I decided I needed new representation. I don’t work with people who are entitled or who lack respect for others.”
I reach out to shake his hand, feeling the tension slip a notch in my chest.
Thank God. It’s not Brandon.
Marcus gives a firm nod, his handshake strong and practiced. Definitely lawyer vibes, the kind who reads contracts like bedtime stories and probably has no idea how to smile.
I glance at Noah and Austin. Both of them look like they’re trying to do the math in their heads, lawyer plus dinner equals… deal?
I hope so.
Because if McNeal brought legal backup, that means this is serious. And maybe we’re about to get the answer we’ve been working our asses off for.
We all sit again, and I do my best to relax my shoulders.
McNeal rests his hands on the table and looks at each of us in turn. His expression is unreadable, but not cold. Just thoughtful, like he’s still weighing every word before saying it.
“Gentlemen,” he starts, “I’ve had a few days to think this through. To consider everything that happened. And I’ve come to a decision.”
The air around us thickens. I hear Austin’s breath catch beside me.
McNeal continues. “I’m going to move forward with this deal, with the two of you.”
The relief that crashes over me is almost overwhelming. I don’t show it, but inside I’m celebrating like we just won the Super Bowl.
“I’ll be honest,” he says, turning his gaze toward me.
“Esteban, I understand why you did what you did. I know how I can come off family man, old-fashioned values. I don’t hide it.
I am that guy. But I also recognize how that might’ve made you feel like it was all or nothing during our first meeting. I appreciate you coming clean.”
I nod. “Thank you, sir.”
“I thought long and hard about what you told me. And while I don’t condone lying, I can’t deny the truth that came out of it. You found love. That’s not something I take lightly.”
Beside him, his lawyer pulls out a leather folder and lays it on the table.
“So,” McNeal says with a half-smile, “I figured we might as well get this show on the road.”
We all exchange stunned glances before diving into the paperwork like kids on Christmas morning. Contracts are signed, hands are shaken, and when it’s done, I feel lighter than I have in the weeks since all this deal started.
We made it.
Once the ink is dry, dinner finally comes, and the conversation loosens up. We talk details, design phases, timeline, the kind of legacy McNeal wants to leave with this project.
Somewhere between appetizers and steaks, Austin clears his throat. “Mr. McNeal, if I may…”
McNeal raises an eyebrow. “Go ahead.”
“I just want to say I’m sorry,” Austin says. “For going along with the story. I should’ve said something, and I didn’t. That’s on me.”
Noah nods. “Same here. I gave Esteban shit, but I still kept the secret. We all did. We weren’t trying to be shady. We just didn’t want to mess up this opportunity.”
McNeal looks at both of them and gives a small nod. “Apology accepted. You’re young men building something for yourselves. I get it. Just make sure next time you lead with honesty. It goes a long way.”
“Yes, sir,” Noah and Austin say almost in unison.
By the time dessert comes around, we’re all laughing about the stress, the mistakes, the whole ridiculous fake-fiancé setup. Even Marcus cracks a smile, barely.
Eventually, we say our goodbyes outside the restaurant. McNeal and Marcus head to their car, and the three of us are left standing on the sidewalk under the warm glow of the streetlights.
Austin lets out a shout and pumps his fist in the air. “Hell yeah!”
Noah claps a hand on my back. “You did it, man.”
“We did it.” I say with a big smile.
We walk to our cars, already talking strategy. There’s a ton to do. Projects to wrap, timelines to shift, new teams to assemble. The future’s coming at us fast, but for once, it feels like we’re ready for it.
And me?
I’m driving home to a woman who makes everything worth it.