Chapter 10 #2
"Tom gave me a tour. I'm pleased with the progress."
I set the tablet down. "Good. We're ahead of schedule in some areas."
"The two-bedroom unit is taking shape exactly as you described."
"Custom millwork installation starts next week. Two weeks for fabrication, one week for install, then we move to furniture and staging."
Knox nods, satisfied.
The food arrives faster than I expected. We eat in silence for a few minutes before Knox looks up.
"How was your week?"
I take a sip of water. "Busy. Other clients, site visits, the usual."
"The usual for you seems to be controlled chaos."
I almost smile. "I prefer 'organized multitasking.'"
"How was Dallas?" I ask, turning the conversation back to him.
"Productive. The development there is significant."
"Tell me about it."
Knox sets down his fork and describes the project—a forty-story luxury residential tower, two hundred million dollar development, breaking ground this fall.
He's more animated talking about it than I've seen him before, his hands gesturing as he explains the design challenges and the market positioning.
I listen, asking questions about timeline and target demographics, and he answers with the kind of detail that shows how deeply he thinks about every aspect of his developments.
Mid-sentence, my phone buzzes in my bag.
I pull it out quickly, glance at the screen. Text from my realtor confirming tomorrow's apartment viewings at 2PM.
"Sorry," I say, typing a quick confirmation.
"It's my realtor."
I set the phone face-down on the table.
Knox's expression doesn't change, but something flickers in his eyes.
"Realtor?"
I realize too late that he noticed.
"Yes. I'm looking for a new place."
A pause. "You're moving?"
"Yes."
I don't elaborate. Don't explain. Just let the word hang there.
Knox waits, clearly expecting more. When I don't offer it, he asks,
"Current place not working?"
"Something like that."
I pick up my water glass, take a sip, then set it down deliberately. "You were saying about the Dallas project? The timeline?"
Knox holds my gaze for a beat longer, and I can see him deciding whether to push.
He doesn't.
"Breaking ground in October," he continues.
"Completion estimated at thirty months, though we're building in buffer for weather delays and supply chain issues."
I ask another question about the construction strategy, and he answers. The conversation shifts back to business, safe territory, nothing personal. We finish lunch and the table is cleared.
"Ready to see the site?" he asks, standing.
"Yes."
We leave the restaurant and walk the two blocks to Sterling Tower. The afternoon sun is warm, the street busy with lunch traffic and delivery trucks.
The construction site is loud with the sound of power tools and workers calling to each other across the space. We take the construction elevator up to the three-bedroom unit. The progress is visible—drywall is up, paint is going on, the kitchen cabinetry is being installed.
I walk Knox through the space, pointing out the custom millwork that arrived last week, the paint colors that look exactly right in the natural light, the way the layout flows from entry to living space to bedrooms.
"Furniture sourcing?" Knox asks as we stand in what will be the living room.
"Meetings scheduled with vendors next week. The standard pieces will arrive within six weeks. Custom pieces for the penthouse will take longest—twelve to fourteen weeks for fabrication."
"Budget concerns?"
"We're under budget in some areas. I'd like to reallocate those savings to higher-end art for the penthouse."
Knox doesn't hesitate. "Approved."
I turn to look at him. "Just like that?"
"You haven't given me reason to doubt your judgment."
I hold his gaze. "Thank you."
The moment stretches between us, something unspoken in the air, before Knox breaks it.
"About the apartment search."
My shoulders tense immediately.
"If you're looking for a place, I can put you in touch with my leasing team. They manage properties all over the city. Could get you squared away quickly."
I give him a half smile, about to deflect, when he continues.
"Though I'm sure Rowan could handle this for you. You haven't asked him?"
I freeze.
Rowan's name is like cold water dumped over my head. Knox doesn't know. Hasn't asked about my relationship status, wouldn't have any reason to assume anything changed from the family events where Rowan and I showed up together.
I don't want to tell him here. Don't want to explain the breakup in the middle of a construction site, don't want to see whatever expression crosses his face when he learns the truth.
"I'll keep that in mind," I say carefully. "Thanks."
I turn away from him and walk toward the master suite.
"The penthouse master bath. I want to discuss tile options with you before we finalize the order."
Knox follows me, and I can feel his gaze on my back. He lets me change the subject. But I know the question is still there. And eventually, I'm going to have to answer it.