Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Wade
“What is this? A daycare?” I ask as I shut the door to Boone’s office.
“Wadeeeeeeeeee,” Rosie screeches before launching herself at me. I buckle from the force. She attaches herself to my leg by sitting on my foot and wrapping her limbs around my shin.
Do I have a sign on my head asking to be jumped on today?
I lift my gaze to Boone. He has the audacity to grin.
“I love you, Wade,” Rosie says, pressing her cheek against my knee. Her eyes focus on me so intently that it makes me itch. “I just love you so much.”
“That’s … nice.” I glare at Boone and then at Holt. “I thought you guys were running a reputable company over here?”
Holt laughs. I want to tell him that he’s getting soft in his old age, but I don’t bother. He’ll just laugh even more, and that will extend my time here.
“Boone … can you get your kid?” I shake my leg, but it only makes Rosie giggle. “You’re going to have to let go of me at some point, you know.”
She shakes her head. Each swipe to a side causes her forehead to thump against my shin. It can’t feel good.
“Wade?” Rosie asks.
I look down at her. I would never admit this to anyone, but she’s actually kind of cute when she’s not covered in chocolate or sticky. She also has an affinity for me, and I have to give her credit for that. At barely five years old, she can tell which one of us is the one to buddy up to—me.
“What, Rosie?” I ask, sighing.
“Will you marry me someday?”
I reach down and try to pry her off my leg. She fights me, protesting both verbally and by fisting the fabric of my pants in her little hands.
“Rosie,” I say through clenched teeth. “I can’t marry you because I’m your uncle. That’s illegal in every state. Also, you’re five.”
“But I’ll be bigger someday!”
Finally, with more effort than I anticipated it would take to detach myself from a preschooler, I hold her up in the air and hand her to Holt.
“You are a little rascal. Do you know that?” Holt asks her.
“That’s what Daddy Boonie says.” She smiles wide as she looks at my little brother. “Can I go see Helena?”
Boone grabs a notepad and a pen off his desk. “It’s Saturday, so Helena isn’t here. But you can go out into the hallway where you can spread out and draw her pictures.”
“Draw only on the paper,” Rosie says seriously.
“Only on the paper.” Boone nods. “Draw her something nice.”
“I’ll draw pics for Wade,” she sing-songs.
Rosie hops off Holt’s lap, grabs the notepad, and heads for the door. It doesn’t take two seconds until we hear everything Boone just gave her clamor against the floor.
I poke my head into the hall to ensure she’s okay. She smiles broadly back up at me.
“How do you deal with her energy all day?” I ask.
“She’s usually not here. That’s how,” Boone says with a laugh. “We had lunch with Dad today, and I needed to swing by here, so I brought her with me. Never again.”
I sit next to Holt. He gives me a curious look.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing. It’s just always shocking to see you dressed in anything but a suit and tie.”
I roll my eyes. “I went for a run.”
“In the mud?” Holt laughs, chuckling.
“Fuck off.”
“How’d the meeting go this week with Bowery?” Boone asks, tossing me an I got you look.
I narrow my gaze. Despite my appreciation for the segue, I’m also concerned. Boone doesn’t do me favors without needing something in return.
But I don’t have time to consider that. I just came by my brothers’ office to grab a file that Eliza inadvertently sent to Oliver by courier yesterday.
“It went swimmingly,” I deadpan.
Boone’s smile falters. “You know—I’ve never understood that word. Swimmingly. What does that even mean?”
“Use context clues,” Holt says.
Boone looks even more confused.
“I don’t have time today to give you an English lesson.” I settle in my chair and rest my elbows on my knees. “About this Bowery thing …”
The back of my neck tightens.
“I agreed to do it today,” I say.
Holt relaxes against his chair. “Thank God.”
“No, thank me,” I mutter as I roll my eyes. “It’s going to be a massive pain in the ass.”
Dara Alden is a massive pain in the ass.
“And I’m not sure how I’m going to swing it.”
Or how I’m going to deal with her.
“But I did you guys a solid. You’re welcome.”
I don’t look at them. I’m not confident that they won’t see the hesitation in my eyes.
This morning when I left the house, I was going for a run to help me work out how to tell my brothers that I would have to pass on this job.
The more I thought about Dara last night, the more it became apparent that it wasn’t going to work out.
It was already taking up so much mental space, and it hadn’t even begun.
How could I justify the hours, days—potentially months—that something as elaborate as I’m sure a Bowery home will require?
I can’t.
But I’m going to have to.
“At the moment, you’re just an architect who made a very weak first impression.”
I shake my head. She’s so full of shit.
“You still with us, Wade?” Boone asks.
I look up. “I’m still sitting here, aren’t I?”
“Do you wake up already programmed to be a dick, or is it a decision you make over breakfast?” Boone asks.
“It usually falls into place once I walk in the same room as you.”
He grins. Of course he does.
Holt chimes in about a job in Atlanta that Bowery floated Oliver’s way, and I tune them out. Let Johan work his magic on that one.
I roll my eyes.
Fucker.
My phone buzzes in my pocket as Boone circles back to his lunch with Dad. I take a quick look at the screen.
Bowery Enterprises.
My heartbeat picks up as I consider taking the call. If I ignore it, I’ll just have to call them back when I get out of here. Alternatively, if I take it now, I won’t have to wonder what it’s about and can get it over with.
“I’ll be right back,” I mutter and get to my feet. “This is Wade Mason.”
I open the door and slip into the hallway. I motion for Rosie to stay put and to stay quiet. She nods, happy to make me happy. Then I pace across the foyer and slide into Shaye’s vacant office.
“Wade, this is Curt Bowery,” a voice booms through the line.
“How are you, Curt?”
“Fine. Thanks for asking. You?”
“I’m great,” I say. Why the hell is he calling?
“Great. I wanted to reach out to you this afternoon and give you an opportunity to talk with me one-on-one about working with Dara. I know it’s an unusual setup for companies such as yours—and even more peculiar that I’m asking it almost as a favor from you.
I’ve been chatting with Oliver, but it occurred to me last night that I should’ve called you myself before this point. ”
“It would’ve been appreciated.”
He seems to consider this. He also doesn’t seem to know that Dara and I reached an agreement today.
In business, there’s no reason to show your hand until you have to. So I don’t mention it. Yet.
“Your work is admirable. Your creativity and attention to the smallest detail in your design is—”
“Curt, with all due respect, let’s cut the shit.” I pause, letting my words sink in. “We both know that you didn’t call to tell me what a genius I am. So let’s save us both the time and get to the point.”
He chuckles. “I knew I liked you.”
“You’d be the first.”
He sucks in a long breath. “To be blunt, and I hope this stays between the two of us …”
“Of course.”
“I’m looking to part ways with Oak and Moss. There have been a variety of circumstances that have transpired to get to this point, but it goes without saying that I’m uncomfortable with them working closely with Dara.”
Take that, Johan.
“You come highly recommended, and that’s not me talking out of my ass,” Curt says. “I’ve known your family for years. You are good people. Family men. I respect that.”
I pace Shaye’s office.
We are family men. The Masons have always put family above everything. But something about the way Curt is speaking—I’m not sure if it’s his tone or the words he’s choosing—but something doesn’t quite sit well with me.
I brush a streak of dirt off my shirt. “That’s good to hear.”
“Of course, the budget is whatever Dara needs,” he says. “I trust that you wouldn’t run up the bill just to run it up.” He laughs ruefully. “There’s more on the line here than just this project. I’m sure you realize that.”
“Someone said something about a project in Atlanta.”
“Well, yes. And I haven’t mentioned this to Oliver,” he says, “but I’m working with a few investors on a resort in Mexico. It’s going to be state-of-the-art. A one-of-a-kind. I was thinking, if things go well, that it might be an opportunity for Mason Limited.”
Ah, hell.
A part of me wishes that this situation never unfolded because something is amiss here. I can feel it. But another, bigger part of me is emboldened that I’ve already said yes. If I’m involved at the start, I can do two things.
First, I can make sure that some fool like Johan doesn’t fuck Dara over. Second, I can feel Bowery Enterprises out before Oliver gets his panties in a twist and jumps all over the Mexico proposition—if it’s real. Because my reservations run deep in my bones.
“Well, Curt, you’ll be pleased to hear Dara and I decided to work together today,” I say, withholding a sigh. “We have a meeting on Monday.”
“That delights me. How wonderful.”
I can hear him smile. It takes everything I have not to roll my eyes.
“Please, take care of her, Wade. And whatever you need, let me know.”
“That’s the plan.”
I spot the file I came to the office for and tuck it under my arm.
“I’m glad to hear it. Call me if you have any issues and please don’t mention anything about Mexico to your brothers. Nothing is set in stone yet. You know how it goes.”
Unfortunately for you, I do. “Understood.”
“Talk soon.”
And just like that, Curt ends the call.
Fuck.
Somehow, this whole thing seems even more complicated, and I was sure that was impossible.
I wrap a hand over the back of my neck and storm through the foyer. Rosie looks up at me and smiles.
“I’m making you pictures,” she says, her grin stretching from ear to ear. “See? That’s your heart. It’s black.”
“Fitting.”
“Do you love it?”
“I think you’re a very perceptive little girl.”
She seems satisfied with this and goes back to her scribbling. I, on the other hand, march into her dad’s office.
“I have to go,” I say, gripping the back of the chair I sat in before. “I have work to do.”
Boone grins. “Have you told Ollie that you’re doing Bowery?”
“I’m not doing Bowery. I’m working on the Bowery project,” I correct him.
“Ah, she’s hot,” Boone says. “I knew it! You lucky fuck.”
I glare at him.
“Ignore him. I’ll let Oliver know,” Holt says.
“You do that,” I reply.
Before anyone can say anything else, all of our phones go off at the same time. We exchange a look before pulling them out.
Coy: I’m having a baby!
Bellamy: Excuse me?
Coy: WE ARE HAVING A BABY!
Bellamy: The light is green. GO or you’ll have this baby in your car.
Coy: Sorry.
Mom: I’m on my way!
“I better be the godfather,” Boone says, tossing his cell on the desk. “I mean, I don’t know who else he’d pick, but it better be me.”
“Of note, we aren’t Catholic,” I point out.
Boone shrugs. “So?”
“So, godparents are traditionally a Catholic thing,” Holt points out. “But I think he is choosing godparents for the baby, and I think they are Hollis and Larissa.”
Boone gasps. “Why? Coy has four brothers, and he’s picking Hollis? I call bullshit.”
“It’s probably not a bad idea. Larissa is Bellamy’s best friend,” I point out. “And Hollis …” I release a hefty breath. “Give him a break. The guy just found out that his sister died ten years ago. Let him have this.”
Holt nods in agreement, a frown on his face. “I feel so fucking awful for him.”
I hang my head, fiddling with my fingers. I don’t like to talk about this kind of shit. I’d rather jab my eye with one of Rosie’s crayons.
“Maybe this godparent situation will make him feel like he’s a part of the family,” Holt says. “I think that’s what Coy is going for. They’ve gotten really close.”
Boone crosses his arms over his chest. “Fine. I agree. But one of you better have a kid then and let me be the godparent.”
I turn and head for the door.
“Want to have a kid, Wade?” Boone teases. “I’ll let you borrow Rosie for the night.”
“Fuck off,” I say over my shoulder, much to my brother’s amusement. “Bye, Holt.”
“Goodbye.”
I hurry down the hallway and enter the elevator before Rosie can see me. I just don’t have the energy to peel her off me again.
The buttons light up, and I select the parking level and then relax against the glass. A little pink sticker that’s stuck about Rosie-level shines from just below the buttons. The color jolts my memory and takes me back to this morning.
And to the errant puppy.
Then to Dara Alden and her insinuation that I’m not the best architect around.
Damn her, anyway.