Chapter 8
Chapter eight
Sam
I’m ten minutes early to the Donut, sitting in our usual back booth and already regretting my moment of weakness.
Nobody responded. I didn’t expect them to. It was late on a Sunday. But I sent it anyway because I'd spent two hours trying to draft Wednesday's presentation deck alone and couldn't think straight.
Nadia is already here. She grabbed our coffees before I even walked through the door. I take my seat across from her, my phone sitting face-up on the scarred wood table. No new messages.
The front door chimes over the loud hum of the morning rush.
Liv walks in first, scanning the crowded room until she finds our back corner booth.
She doesn't wave, just marches straight toward us, followed closely by Priya, who is rapidly finishing a phone call.
They are all early, summoned by my late-night panic.
Liv slides into the booth to my left, setting her heavy bag down. A second later, Priya ends her call, shoves her phone into her pocket, and drops into the seat on my right. Nobody bothers to say good morning.
Liv folds her hands on the table. "You texted at 10:23 on a Sunday."
"What happened?"
I open my mouth, fully intending to give the perfectly structured explanation I rehearsed in the shower this morning. I had three key points to cover before asking for the vote. But sitting under the combined weight of their stares, the words evaporate.
Nadia watches me over the rim of her latte. She isn't impatient, just quietly waiting. She tips her head slightly.
Priya leans back in her chair and crosses her arms. Her mouth twitches. "You're wound up."
My shoulders pull back automatically. "I'm not wound up."
"You texted at 10:23."
"I was awake."
"On a Sunday."
I look down at my coffee. Pick it up. Set it back down without drinking. "I'm processing."
Liv's eyebrow goes up. Just one. "Processing what?"
I take a breath. You already rehearsed this. Just stick to the facts.
"The photographer I'm working with. Tom. The Developer loved his work so much they're making us co-present to the Board. Every Thursday. Indefinitely. And we have to prep together every Wednesday."
I pause. Wait for the sympathy. The solidarity. The acknowledgment that this is a problem.
Silence.
Priya blinks. "That's it?"
My jaw tightens. "That's not enough? I have to stand in front of investors every week with someone who—"
Liv cuts in. "With someone who what? Does good work?"
I look at Nadia. She's watching me, not coming to my defense.
"With someone I did’t expect to be... competent."
Heat crawls up my neck. "He found a connectivity angle I missed." I'm talking faster now. Filling the silence before it gets worse. "He improved my design argument. And now the Board thinks we're some kind of creative dream team and I'm stuck co-presenting with him until the bid closes."
Priya sits back. Takes a slow sip of her coffee.
Her grin widens. "You're mad he's good."
I want to deny it. I open my mouth to deny it.
Liv's already nodding. "You expected chaos. Instead you got a capable partner. And now you don't know what to do with it."
I look away. Stare at the chalkboard menu behind the counter like I'm reading it for the first time.
"I know what to do with it. I manage it."
Nadia tilts her head. "And?"
Priya's grin shifts into something sharper. "At least he's cute, right?"
My hand jerks, sloshing coffee over the rim of my cup. "That's not—this isn't about—"
The table explodes with laughter.
i want to disappear. My chest feels tight, and the sudden memory of the way he smelled like cedar and rain outside the gate yesterday floods my senses.
Nadia just raises an eyebrow, sliding a napkin across the table for my spilled coffee.
Priya sits back, satisfied. "You're red."
I want to disappear. I want to rewind to last night and delete the text.
I want to go back to the version of this conversation where I was still in control.
I furiously dab at the spill. "I am flushed from the stress of a compromised timeline."
"You're flushed because the guy with the excellent bone structure is actually good at his job," Liv corrects.
"Fine." I toss the napkin down, my voice coming out tight
"Fine." My voice comes out tight. Defensive. "Yes. He's attractive. Once. Maybe twice. I noticed."
He saw the sightlines to the waterfront. That’s the value he brings.
"It doesn't matter if he's attractive," I say it firmly. Like that will make it true. "Working with him is going to be chaos."
Liv's still grinning. "Chaos how?"
Facts. I can do facts.
"He changes camera angles without asking. He adds shots that weren't on my list. He told me my four-year running schedule might not be as reliable as I think."
Priya's grin fades. Her arms uncross. "Does he ignore your shot lists or does he improve them?"
I freeze. That's what I've been avoiding all weekend.
That's the part I didn't want to say out loud.
"He... improves them."
He was right.
My throat tightens. "But he doesn't ask first. He just does it."
Liv nods slowly, a smile spreading across her face. "So he's not chaotic. He's confident."
She pauses and lets that sit for half a second.
"And you're used to people waiting for your permission." Nadia adds. Her voice may be quieter than Liv's, but her point feels sharper.
"And now you're attracted to someone who doesn't." Priya smirks.
My stomach drops. I shake my head. "I'm not—it's professional. I'm processing friction."
Priya doesn't buy it. She never does.
"You texted for a vote. What's the question?"
I exhale. My hands are wrapped around my coffee cup. I don't remember picking it up.
"We have to prep a joint Board presentation every Wednesday before the Thursday meetings. I'm drafting the structure tonight to make sure we're aligned."
The Boss Babes exchange looks. The kind of silent communication that happens when you've known someone long enough to skip entire conversations.
Nadia leans forward, resting her elbows on the table. "Wait. Are you actually going to plan this with him, or are you just doing his homework so you can boss him around?"
My answer comes too fast. "I'm making sure we don't look unprepared."
Liv's eyes narrow. "That's not what she asked."
My hands tighten on the cup. "If I don't run the presentation, it falls apart."
Priya's voice is calm. Steady.
"That's how it worked when you were solo. You're not solo anymore."
I look at her. "So what? I just hand him the presentation and hope he doesn't improvise us into disaster?"
Nadia shakes her head. "No. You ask him what he needs to do his job well. Then you build the structure together."
The resistance rises in my chest before I can stop it. "And if he says he doesn't need structure?"
Liv's response is immediate. "Then you learn what his version of preparation looks like. Because competent people don't wing flagship presentations. They just don't prep the way you do."
I stare at my coffee. I don't like that answer.
I like it even less because it might be right.
Priya tilts her head. "Okay, worst-case scenario. What actually happens if you just step back and let the guy do his job?"
My throat tightens.
"That he'll make us look disorganized. That the Board will see the friction. That they'll question whether we can deliver if we can't even present cohesively."
Nadia rolls her eyes, taking a sip of her coffee. "Please. You're just terrified he's going to crush it, and you won't get to be the sole savior of the Harbor project."
The table goes quiet.
Behind the counter, the espresso machine hisses.
Liv doesn't break eye contact.
Priya breaks the silence. "Okay. Let's vote."
She sits up straighter. Her voice shifts into the formal register we use when we're making it official.
"Question: Do you draft the presentation structure alone and hand it to him, or do you ask him to co-draft it with you?"
Liv goes first. "Co-draft. You're already tethered. Stop fighting it."
Nadia nods. "Co-draft. You don't have enough data on how he works under Board pressure. You need to see his process."
Priya doesn't speak right away.
She just looks at me.
I stare at the table.
Then she says,
"Alone."
I blink. "What?"
"Not because that's the right thing to do." Her voice is calm. Matter-of-fact. "But because that's what you're going to do anyway. And I'd rather you own it than pretend you're collaborating when you're not."
She pauses. Lets that settle.
"But don't be surprised when he shows up Wednesday and refuses to use your deck."
My face burns. She's right.
I was already planning to draft it alone.
Liv sighs. "If you're going to manage him, own it. But don't call it partnership when it's control."
Nadia adds the last piece. "And don't be surprised when he pushes back."
I nod.
I don't say anything. I'm already building the deck in my head. Slide order. Talking points. Timing cues.
I tell myself it's preparation.
It feels a lot more like defense.
**
I'm halfway to the subway when my phone buzzes. A delivery truck beeps in reverse somewhere behind me. I pull out my phone without slowing my pace.
Tom
Wednesday 7 AM work for you? We should talk through the Board structure before I start editing visuals.
I stop walking on the crowded sidewalk.
Talk through the structure.
He doesn't want me to hand him a plan; he wants to build it with me.
My thumb hovers over the keyboard. I can feel the shape of the right answer. The collaborative answer. The one Liv and Nadia told me to choose.
But then I picture him standing next to me, confidently adjusting my angles, completely immune to my color-coded calendar. If I let him build this with me, I lose my only leverage.
Me
7 AM works. I'll have a draft deck ready.
I hit send before I can hear Priya's voice in my head.
I already know what she'd ask.
I already know my answer.
Three dots appear instantly.
Tom
Can't wait to tear it apart.
My pulse spikes, a sharp, terrifying mix of fury and anticipation.
I lock my phone and start walking again. Let him try.