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Becca starts to tell me about her horrible assistant manager, and we pass the rest of the outing in mostly easy conversation. I have trouble keeping my predicament from my thoughts, but hearing how she’s dealing with a terrible boss distracts me enough to relax.
When the time comes to go back to Noah’s, I say goodbye to Becca with a huge hug.
“We have to do this again. And don’t make me wait a week this time!”
“I won’t. Thanks, Becks. Good luck with Kevin.” I give her a sympathetic smile.
“And good luck with Mr. Money Bags. Tell him I'm available if he needs another nanny or a housekeeper. I’m terrible with cleaning, but I’m cute, right?”
My throat tightens. “Super cute. I’ll keep that in mind.”
The sour churning won't leave my stomach as I drive back to the house. That’s the first time I’ve lied to Becca about anything, but I can’t imagine she’d be very supportive of me screwing my boss.
If only he was a horrible boss like Kevin.
Chapter 12
Noah
I said I wanted to meet. With you. No lawyers. Stop being such a dick and text me back. You owe me this meeting.
It’s the third message I’ve gotten from Natasha, and at this point, I’m seriously considering changing my number. I don’t know why I’m surprised or even annoyed at this point.
From the start of the divorce, she’s been like this. But how much should I really expect from someone who literally fucked my business partner in our office?
Exiting out of my messaging app, I look back at my computer and remember the joy I was dealing with before she texted.
The Hawaii deal can’t seem to move past this supply issue, and I can’t let it get even more behind schedule. It’s costing me thousands in wasted labor costs every day the project goes past schedule.
I email a response to Dwight, one of the contractors on the project, about his suggestion to change materials. If it’s going to be just as expensive to replace it as it is to keep having people stand around at the job site, he can go for it.
As long as the quality doesn’t go down.
He messages back quickly. It’s going to be a stretch to keep the project under budget from now on, but the quality won’t go down. If anything, this new material is better than the last, hence the hefty price tag.
I give the go-ahead, and Dwight assures me it’ll be done and updated as soon as possible. He still has to run it past the investors, and at this point, I have to hope they will be understanding.
When the email is sent, I check the clock. It’s a little after the typical lunchtime, but I need a break. I’m still heated over Natasha's endless fucking texts and the complications of the Hawaii deal.
It’s the roughest part of doing things out of state. I can’t physically be there as often as I’d like to keep things going smoothly. And with the divorce, I’m there even less.
Getting out of the office for a few minutes will do me some good. After all, there’s literally only so much I can do, at least when it comes to the Hawaii complex.
I’m not answering Natasha.
Plus, I feel like changing; something about putting on new clothes usually helps me clear my mind.
I have another conference call at 3 p.m., so I’ll just swing by the house for an hour or so and then head back to work. It’ll be a welcome reprieve from all these fucking emails and messages.
The drive home is quick, thanks to the lack of traffic, and I hurry inside and upstairs into my bedroom to change.
Finding a new suit, I pull off my current look and toss it all into the hamper. It’s a bit full, so I decide to walk it down to the laundry room.
As I round the corner, I come face-to-face with Olivia, who looks like she is headed for my room.
“Oh! Noah, hi. What are you doing home?” She eyes the laundry basket in my hands. “I was just going to do that.”
“I didn’t see your car. I thought…” I have no idea where I was going with that line of thought and stumble to answer. “I wanted to change quick.”
