Maya
Was this greedy?
But this wasn’t about anyone else.
This was what she wanted.
She wanted to hold a child that was hers. Theirs. She was allowed to want that. Wasn’t she?
Everything else—everything she had built, everything she had poured herself into—had been ripped from her. Her work. Her reputation. Her place in the world.
Her marriage.
Her throat tightened, but she pushed past it.
This—this was something she could still have.
If she demanded it. If she took it.
There was a cruel kind of irony in it. That the most selfish thing she had ever wanted was something that would demand everything from her. Her time, her body, her sleep.
She huffed a quiet breath.
She wanted the tiny fingers and the tiny toes. She wanted the soft weight of a baby heavy in her arms, warm and real and hers. She wanted the small, bright moments and the difficult ones and everything in between.
She wanted all of it.
And she wanted Reid to be the father.
Her eyes closed again, just for a moment.
It didn’t change anything else.
It didn’t undo what he had done. It didn’t make the hurt smaller or the betrayal easier to bear. It didn’t fix the jagged, broken pieces of what they had been.
She wasn’t going back.
She wasn’t pretending.
Maya opened her eyes.
She didn’t know what it would look like. She didn’t know how it would work, or what it would cost her, or what it would turn into.
She only knew one thing with absolute clarity.
She wanted it.
This firm did large-scale builds. Schools, medical facilities, municipal contracts. The kind of projects that shaped entire neighborhoods.
But even if they hired her, Maya wouldn’t be working on that side of things.
The role was for a project administrator.
It was still a good job. Sensible.
Maya needed to concentrate on sensible things.
The interview was wrapping up when a woman stuck her head into the room and interrupted.
“Maya? I’m Naomi,” the woman said. “Can we talk? I won’t take up too much of your time.”
She offered Maya her hand. Maya shook it automatically, still trying to understand what was happening.
“I’m an architect,” Naomi told her. “I have a proposition for you.”
Naomi reached into her bag and pulled out a set of plans, laying them out over the table.
“Take a look,” she said.
Maya leaned forward. She knew how to read blueprints. She loved seeing things early enough that the lines and measurements and space laid out possibility instead of restrictions.
“Elementary school,” Naomi said. “Pre-permit stage.”
"This vestibule's too shallow," Maya said, pointing.
"You need at least sixty inches here for clearance—" she tapped the paper lightly "—and this doorway width is only meeting the bare minimum. “Widen it, add an automatic opener, and you’re not just compliant, you’ve got a smoother access point for everyone.”
Naomi didn’t interrupt.
“This ramp meets regulations.” Maya traced the line of it. She was already rebuilding the space in her head. "But why have a ramp at all? Bring this section level and you don't need one.”
She kept scanning. "Your accessible parking's at the legal minimum but I'd add more spaces here."
She stopped and looked up. Naomi was watching her very closely.
Maya straightened. “Sorry,” she said. “You didn’t want me to—”
“I did,” Naomi said. “That’s exactly what I want from you.”
She pointed at the plans. “My team can design to code,” she said. “But they don’t understand what’s needed beyond that.”
She met Maya’s eyes.
“I don’t want to have to hire someone to fix buildings after the fact,” Naomi went on. “I want someone to prevent the problems from happening in the first place.”
Maya looked down at the lines and measurements on the page. No concrete poured, nothing fixed in literal stone.
“I want you as a consultant,” Naomi said. “Project-based. You review blueprints at pre-permit stage. You flag issues, suggest changes, work with the design team before anything is finalized.”
Maya swallowed.
No fundraising, no permits stacked to the ceiling, no chasing invoices or balancing accounts or begging for donations.
Just this. Just the part she loved.
Then Naomi named a number.
Maya’s mouth dropped open.
“That’s what you’re worth to me,” Naomi told her. “Per project.”
Maya shook her head slightly, like she was trying to clear it.
She looked down at the plans again.
She could see it already. The fixes, the adjustments she’d suggest. The way it could work.
The way it could be better.
“I’m not asking for an answer right now.” Naomi nodded at the business card in Maya’s hand. “Call me.”
At the door, she paused. “Your husband was right about one thing. You’re exactly what we need.”